Why you shouldn't carve too early

We carved our Halloween pumpkins with the neighbours, Gavin and Christina, last weekend (ie. 1 1/2 weeks before Halloween). They looked VERY cool when first done. As below.



Now... it looks like he's been partying all night. He's slumped over the bottom step, he's got filthy mouldy "breath" and he looks spaced out. Oh and I think he wet himself too... :)

Ack.

My face is throbbing, I'm trying to revise for my first uni exam which is in a week and I feel completely underprepared, I think my lunch may have had lactose in it, because my tummy is feeling quite ill right now (either that or the wide array of meds is making me sick again), the cat barfed on the table (which she's not supposed to be on), so we've had to do an extra load of washing to clean all the cat barf off the tablecloth, and now she's acting all weird, so now I'm also worried that something's wrong with her and it wasn't just overeating that made her barf.

Sigh.

It's a small world

I was in the local post office the other weekend posting my uni assignment, and heard a pair of Aussie accents from across the counter, so commented to them something about it's funny how many Aussie accents there were around Mountain View.

So we got chatting, their names are Trish and James, and it turns out they'd just moved to Mountain View from Melbourne as James got a job in the Valley. Also turns out they live in the same complex as us! So we swapped phone numbers and have caught up a few times now and they're a lovely couple, with an absolutely adorable 1 year old son named Ashwin. And to continue with the small world theme, they have the same wedding date as us, we have mutual friends, and judging by what I just read on their blog, James' birthday is the same as Seth, my nephew's.

What a small world huh? :) It's nice when you meet random people in a random place, but something as simple as the same accent can bring you together!

Post surgery report

Well stage 2 of the implant is done. Stage 1 was the bone graft 6 months ago. I wasn't happy with that oral surgeon so decided to go with someone else for stage 2. I'm glad I did as well. Turns out the bone graft failed, and the screw that was half hanging out of my gum wasn't even attached to anything!!

So this guy could see the other dude hadn't grafted enough bone from the x-rays, and was saying depending on how it looked, they may do a connective tissue graft to make sure everything stays in place.

But because the graft didn't take, they had to do another bone graft, taking bone from my sinus cavity, a connective tissue graft which I think they took from the roof of my mouth, and the implant of the titanium screw.

So my poor mouth is feeling quite uncomfortable, my right sinus aches, I have a fair bit of facial swelling, and the roof of my mouth is hurting as well from the tissue graft I assume. I can wear my plate with the fake tooth which helps limit the swelling as well as helps me not look so silly, and I reckon it also stops me playing with all the stitches! They gave us an extra prescription for anti-inflammatories, and also told me to take high dosages of calcium and vitamins C and D to help with the bone healing and strength which certainly makes sense!

So my daily dosages are antibiotics 4 times a day, anti inflammatories starting at 6 a day and decreasing over the next week, painkillers as needed, 3 x Calcium tablets a day, 3 x Vitamin C a day, 2 x Vitamin D a day, and 5 x arnica 3 times a day as well as arnica gel on my face to stop bruising. Anyone who saw my post wisdom teeth photos will understand why I need anti bruising stuff... So that's 35 things in total I'll be taking today. Maybe more if I take more painkillers. Plus my heart tablets gives me at least 37 for the day. Wow. I'll so be rattling!

Still busy!

End of semester exams start in 1 1/2 weeks, so have been madly trying to study. Work has been ridiculously busy which has eaten into the study time and also sent energy levels crashing by the time I get home, so haven't felt very motivated to study.

Fingers crossed it'll all go fine...

I've got stage 2 of the dental implant surgery tomorrow - they'll be placing a titanium screw into my jaw bone. Eww. I hate operations. They may also need to do some more grafting depending on how much bone is there, so I'll keep fingers crossed for no extra grafting on that one as well.

I've also finally joined a gym, and have been trying to get into a routine for that, but previously mentioned study and work hasn't been helping! I've been trying to get in before work, and am going with one of the girls from work, so that's good. I went at 6am this morning though, and the last time I was up and going at that time was when I flew out of Singapore to come to the US! I feel soooo tired now! So hopefully I'll sleep well tonight and not be up all night thinking about the operation tomorrow.

We also still have our little foster kitten Smudge. She was supposed to go up for adoption two weeks ago, but they noticed she has an eye condition called Entropion, where her upper eyelid rolls inwards, which is causing eye irritation, and can damage the cornea. So we're keeping her for a few more weeks while she gets big enough for the surgery to fix her eyelids. Poor baby!

I think that's about it for the moment... Everything else is same ol', same ol'.

Introducing the new and improved blog!

I've been fiddling with my blog. I changed over to the new Blogger Beta, picked a new template, got rid of a bunch of the triathlon related stuff (let's face it, I'm not a triathlete anymore!!), and did a little bit of tweaking.

So apologies to anyone has my blog syndicated and has had everything reposted!

Don't swallow these!

According to Wikipedia, you can get Panadol suppositories. What a.... pain in the ass. Hehehe.

Something for pet owners to think about

As someone who has worked at an animal shelter, and a pet owner, this really touched me. I've read it before, but not since I've had a blog...

HOW COULD YOU? By Jim Willis, 2001

When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you
laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed
shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best
friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and
ask "How could you?"-but then you'd relent and roll me over for a
bellyrub.

My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you
were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those
nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and
secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more
perfect.

We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for
ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs"
you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come
home at the end of the day.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career,
and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you
patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments,
never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your
homecomings, and when you fell in love.

She, now your wife, is not a "dog person"-still I welcomed her into
our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy
because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I
shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they
smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried
that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to
another room, or to a dog crate.

Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love." As
they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and
pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes,
investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved
everything about them and their touch-because your touch was now so
infrequent-and I would've defended them with my life if need be. I
would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret
dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the
driveway.

There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that
you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories
about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed
the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and
you resented every expenditure on my behalf. Now, you have a new
career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving
to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right
decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your
only family.

I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal
shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You
filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home
for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand
the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You
had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he
screamed "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I
worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about
friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about
respect for all life.

You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and
politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a
deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two
nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months
ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook
their heads and asked "How could you?"

They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy
schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite
days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the
front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind-that this
was all a bad dream... or I hoped it would at least be someone who
cared, anyone who might save me.

When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for
attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated
to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me
at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a
separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table
and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in
anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of
relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days.

As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which
she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I
knew your every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my
foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same
way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the
hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool
liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into
her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"

Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry."
She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I
went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or
abandoned, or have to fend for myself - a place of love and light so
very different from this earthly place.

And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a
thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her.
It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I
will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your
life continue to show you so much loyalty.