This is my blind cat, emotionally traumatized dog, and disabled wife. Please allow us back into Canada

 Hi Friends

The countdown is on! In 14 days we'll be packing up our blind cat, emotionally traumatized dog, my deformed Britknee, and making the trek back to Candle Lake for the summer. What could go wrong? Haha (nervous laugh).

I am slightly worried (AKA lay awake for hours with heart racing) about how this trip home will go. Neither of our Paw Patrolers (Stevie and Dilbert) have ever traveled any further than about 20 miles, and Dilbert has puked and/or pooped on about 75% of his treks out of West Bay. Thankfully both pets can travel as carry-on; however, given that we have 2 flights and approximately 12 hours of traveling, I'm leaning towards sedation....for all of us. Say your prayers for us on July 1. 

Despite the mobilization "therapy" (This is TORTURE, people, not "therapy") three times per week, this f'n knee will not straighten. Britknee toys with the therapists, looking straight-ish after it's been yanked repeatedly out of joint for an hour straight, but then immediately bends back at this weird and awkward angle as soon as I exit the Physio clinic. I've had second and third opinions. The physios are saying that we might just have to call this, as the scar tissue and joint stiffness just does not seem to be responding after 4 months and AGGRESSIVE therapy.  This could very well be a situation where I need to be anesthetized while each and every professional in the OR takes turns jumping on Britknee (this is how I picture a manipulation under anesthetic) Haha! (nervous laugh). My surgeon is on holidays, and I am not able to see him until the end of August. In the meantime, I'm to carry on, continuing to attempt extension and see if we can combat this without another surgery. At this point though, what's another f'n surgery? 

I've been back at work now for 2 weeks. It's been....rough. I do really enjoy waking up with a purpose, doing my hair, wearing something that does not contain lycra, catching up with my fabulous colleagues, and hanging out with the kiddos. That has been very good for my emotional and mental health. I feel like after 12 years of surgeries, I'm now a professional faker, and have the ability to plaster is big smile on my face, joke my way through pain, and generally look like I'm fine. And sometimes faking it can genuinely make you feel better! However, the truth is that I'm wandering around in this bizarre fog. I'm struggling to problem solve. When something goes awry (which is a very common occurrence in our workplace), I just don't know what to do, nor do I really care. I could sit for hours with a blank stare, not a thought circulating through my brain. That sucks! I blame the medication - Gabapentin is known for putting people in alternate universes. I blame the pain - it's really difficult to sustain 8/10 pain for an hour in physio and then limp back to the office. I also found out this week that I'm severely anemic, so I'm sure that hasn't been helping. Apparently iron is important.  Do you remember the video games where your character starts blinking repeatedly when it's down to its last life force? That's me. I'm on my last life force. Thankfully we have a 3-day weekend ahead (God save the King!), so I can retrieve a few more lives with some BBQ'd red meat (GOOOO IRON!) on the beach. 

Britknee watching the physios try to straighten her

Look at me! Dressed and vertical! 

So...although I'm excited to go home and see my Canadian peeps, I'm heading back in a much different position (literally) than I had expected. I'm still on ALL the pain meds. My gait is atrocious and causing my muscles to shorten, resulting in overall pain. Britknee is nowhere near where Courtknee was at this time, and frankly, I want a refund. This knee is stupid. I hate it. I had visions of golfing, wakesurfing, and just plain old WALKING (is this too much to ask?). I also was really looking forward to getting drunk. Really stupidly drunk. Unfortunately, after 2 drinks, I feel like crap and the thought of adding headache and dry mouth to my long list of symptoms does not appeal to me. I'm pissed off. I'm so tired of hearing about the billions of successful knee replacements that typically occur on people over 60, when Britknee is far from a success story at this point, despite the fact that I'm young -ish, fit-ish, and have been so committed to my therapy. Why can't I catch a damn break?!

OK. RANT OVER. 

Thanks for feeling sorry for me. 

Now here's the fun update...

You all know that we adopted Dilbert from the Humane Society (AKA "Dilly," "Dill Pickle," "Dilly Bar"). Although Dilly's history wasn't clear, he was found abandoned, wandering the streets of West Bay in rough shape, and it's quite obvious by his submissiveness and fear of feet that he was kicked or abused in some way. Dilbert was heart worm positive and had to endure 2 months of treatments, which requires the dog to remain very calm and inactive. Thankfully, we've passed the 2 month mark, and Dilbert is ready to learn how to be an active and happy dog. 

Dilbert is now attending school on Tuesdays and Thursdays! His little school bus comes and picks him up at 8:30 AM, he typically pukes and/or poops on the way to school, and then he learns commands, socializing with other dogs and people, and generally just gains confidence. 

He's doing really well! It's so cool to see this passive, scared little animal become so full of life and joy. 

So proud!

Blind Cats hare NOT allowed at doggie school :(

Dilbert's a little clingy with his new emotional support dog 

Every morning Dilbert positions himself near the bed and patiently waits for me to wake up. As soon as my eyes open, he lets out this joyous "howl!!!" and that's the kind of enthusiasm and energy that I need right now! How can you wake up grumpy to that? He gets me out of bed in the morning, and instead of dreading the day ahead, I spend my mornings laughing as I watch Dilbert and Stevie awkwardly play together. Dilbert also has developed a keen interest in my bras. He waits until we're sleeping and then steals them out of laundry baskets and drawers and does zoomies around the house, euphorically flinging the bra around in the air. I swear he's a reincarnated teenage boy (or maybe a creepy old guy?) haha (nervous laugh). 

I think it's incredible how these two animals came into my life at such an opportune time. This has been one of the hardest years for me in terms of pain and rehab, yet I've experienced so much joy and happiness with these little furry friends. I'm so thankful for them. I didn't think that I'd be able to love an animal as much as I loved Biloxi and Dundee, and although Dilbert and Stevie have completely different personalities, they make my heart happy. This sounds cheezy, and a bit dramatic - but these little furballs are keeping me going right now. Animals are amazing. 

Well...that's all for now. Just imagine Evan on July 1 explaining to the customs agent, "Hi. This is my blind cat, emotionally traumatized dog, and disabled wife. Please let us in to Canada." (oh dear...)

Wish us luck!