Do you want to talk about my blood test? Let’s talk about my blood test and urine test (surprise!) yesterday. I waltzed down to the doctor’s office at 8:15 a.m. in the morning. The nurse/receptionist was on her bluetooth, but I couldn’t see that she had a bluetooth on because her hair was covering it. She smiled and me and I wrote my name down. No one else was there. The waiting room, which by the way, looks like 1985 threw up all over it, was empty. “Oh GIRRRRRRRRRRRL!” I hear the receptionist yell. “You should do SOMETHIN’ about that. You should DO SOMETHIN’.” It took me some time to realize that she was not talking to me and referring to the horrible bangs I have from a botched haircut, but was talking into her headset to a friend about some issue I was not concerned about. What I was concerned about was the fact that for some reason, my veins are a mystery. They are an enigma. They are a mystery wrapped in an enigma. In short, they are very hard to find. Very hard.

Once when I was in college, I went to the health center to donate blood. I wanted to help. I wanted to save lives. It took 2 med students in training and a professional to declare that blood could not be drawn. FROM EITHER ARM. Yes, that’s right. I’m a mutant creature apparently, with veins that cannot be located.

She took me into the back room and I told her explicitly before we started that my veins are hard to find. She asked if I drank water this morning. I naturally said no, because I was under the impression that I was no meant to eat or drink anything before the test. It just goes to show you how rarely I have these things.

Anyway, she felt around both arms and decided she was going to have a go with my right arm. Fair enough. As she was looking to find a vein, she also came to the conclusion that my veins were a mystery wrapped in an enigma. Surprisingly however, with a bit of prodding, she managed to find a vein, although it was more to the side of my arm, than in the middle. Fine I thought, I don’t even care. You caught a vein on the first try, you’re practically an expert, nurse Bluetooth. She filled up three viles of dark burgundy blood and bandaged me up. You know, I could never be an intravenous drug user, even if I wanted to. I would never be able to find a vein and get high. I’d miss every time.

I was relieved that it was over, however, contrary to what I thought, it was not. On no siree, a urine test was in order – one about which I had NO IDEA ABOUT.

“Now all I need from you is a urine sample. Here’s the cup, your name is on it. Go into the bathroom. There are some wipes in the cabinet. Wipe yourself, then catch the urine MIDSTREAM.”

Sure, why not? This doesn’t sound particularly difficult, except for the fact that I emptied my bladder this morning, BEFORE I came in for a blood test. Had I known I was going to have a urine sample as well, I would have saved all my good pee for you guys. I walked into the restroom nervous. How in the world was I going to trick my body into thinking I had to pee? I reached over to the cabinet and grabbed a towelette and wiped as instructed. I sat down and tried to persuade myself to pee. My stream of thought (no pun intended) went as follows: rivers, lakes, faucet water, big tubs of water, c’mon pee, let’s go pee, rivers, lakes, pregnancy test commercial featuring giant stream of pee, gimme something, anything!

Just then, the flood gates opened for about 5 seconds and I managed to gather about 20 ml of pee. By the way, the cup was about 60 ml, so I tried again. I went through about 4 songs on the Oldies station that I could hear playing in waiting room before I decided that that was all the pee they were getting from me. I took my cup, wrapped it in a towel (per the urine sample instructions on the wall) and left it for the nurse. I grabbed my stuff, said thanks and left, with a throbbing arm and a dehydrated bladder. Then I sat in traffic for an hour until I made it to Santa Monica. What a day.

This is a portrait I drew of Henry and I last summer. It’s acrylic on canvas and was finished in one night, although it still needs some touch ups. I put this photo up instead of one of Henry in his current state because he’s sleeping and not only do I not want to bother him, but he looks so scruffy and I’m sure he hates his life at this points, so I’m not going to play intrusive journalist right now, you know?

He’s been holed up in his crate, but he’s doing well. The staples in his legs are getting looser, which is a good sign. He has an x-ray and suture removal scheduled on Thursday and hopefully I can take that horribly annoying Elizabethan collar off his head. I think I hate it more than he does. It’s just awful. It is amazing how well the dog formally known as Mr. Pick. E. Eater is responding to food. He gobbles up his dry and wet food and the chicken and turkey and peppers he’s allowed in between. Because of this, his poop schedule has become so normal – once in the morning, once in the evening.

He finished up his antibiotic medicine today and will be off his pain meds this week. His hair is growing up at an astonishing rate, so we’ll have to even it out in a month or two. He is in dire need of a bath and he knows it. He self-grooms like a cat every chance he gets.

He didn’t make much noise during the earthquake that rocked Los Angeles today, except for letting out a big yelp the minute it was over.

More updates after his next vet appointment!

So about half an hour ago, we had an earthquake here in Los Angeles. It registered on the scale at 5.8, with its epicenter about 2 miles from Chino Hills. It started off like there was a big truck rattling outside. Someone yelled, “Earthquake!” as a joke, we all laughed for about 2 seconds and then, it got a bit worse. “Oh no, it really is an earthquake.” I saw about 10 heads darting up from cubicles. No one ducked and covered, we all just stared at each other as if to say, “Is this really happening right now?”

The United State’s Geological Survey reported it at being 29 miles from the Los Angeles Civic Center. Having been through the Northridge earthquake, this was nothing. Somewhere, somehow, Victoria Beckham is implementing the Earthquake safety she learned on “Coming to America.” Transplants, welcome (officially) to Los Angeles.

Today Henry went to the vet to have his bandages removed. It’s been exactly one week since his surgery. He’s doing well, but very anxious to get up out of his crate. When the nurses brought him out, I saw his little pink legs dangling, with a million stitches all over. Fur, dried up blood, metal stitching and pink skin. It was not a pleasant site. I hesitated posting the photo below of his legs and was about to censor myself, but I thought I’d go ahead and do it anyway, because if anyone ever comes across this post and has a dog who will need luxating patella surgery and they want to see photos, it will be here for their reference. I know that before Henry has his surgery, I looked all over the web for photos, so it’s more helpful than hurtful. Plus, I’m not a fan of censorship. That being said, I’m putting the photo behind a cut for the faint of heart.

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It’s now day 7-post luxating patella surgery, and as far as I can tell, Henry’s doing well for the most part, although he’s completely miserable in his crate. It’s the most time he’s spent in there, ever. He never sleeps in there, but on my bed with me and only goes in to fetch his toys out. He’s having a hard time adjusting, but he has to suffer now for the greater good of the functionality of his legs. When I put him on his pad to pee, he spins around like a banshee until he finally can’t hold it in anymore. I spread his legs, so he doesn’t get any pee on his bandaged feet. He only goes pee once a day and because of all the medicine he’s been given, his urine has a really putrid smell, a bit like asparagus-pee. For the short times that he’s out of his crate, he walks pretty well, although he looks like he’s walking on stilts. For being so small, he’s pretty fearless and seems to have forgotten about the fact that he had major surgery. If I didn’t immediately put him back in his crate after his daily bathroom session, he’d be running a muck in the house, bandaged legs and all.

He was suffering from a bout of constipation, as he hadn’t had a bowel movement since we brought him home on Saturday, so I gave him a teaspoon of pumpkin puree and this did the trick, although he ended up going his crate. I really don’t mind where he goes, as long as he goes. On Thursday he goes in to get his bandages removed I believe and I’m a bit scared of this, because I got a peek at one of the staples in his legs, and it was not a pleasant site.

By the way, if you’re reading this and your dog needs luxating patella surgery, which usually runs in the thousands as far as price is concern, a good option is Care Credit. Care Credit works like a credit card, but with perks such as an extended payment plan and no interest. It’s main purpose is for medical emergencies, such as pet surgery. I used it to cover half the cost of Henry’s surgery. More updates as we go along.

Today’s cake was a smashing success! Everyone loved it, which was great because I was really nervous about it.  I thought about Henry the entire day. The vet even called to check up on him, which I thought was the sweetest thing. I wish I could work from home so I could be there with him at all times. I’m feeling a bit stressed out and frustrated at the situation. He didn’t sleep all of last night in his crate. He kept moving around, so finally I put him on top of my bed and cradled him until he went to sleep. Needless to say I am in dire need of sleep today. I’m feeling upset as well, because he would not relax. He was standing on all fours, even though his hind legs are bandaged and he just kept moving around. I finally got angry and yelled at him and forced him to just sit down. He got really quiet and just kept looking at me with those big brown eyes. And I felt horrible. I guess I’m feeling overwhelmed by this whole thing too. Right now, he’s in his bed with my cardigan as his blanket, sleeping. He hasn’t had a bowel movement since Saturday and I was a bit worried, so I gave him some canned pumpkin, and I’m hoping this will help.

On Thursday I have a doctor’s appointment that is so long overdue. My last doctor was a complete idiot, so thankfully not only did she get up and decide to leave California, but Nat recommended her doctor to me, who I’m looking forward to seeing. I’ve got a number of things I want to talk to her about, mostly the fact that I have a sneaking suspicion that I have hypothyroidism. The symptoms completely match up with what I’ve been experiencing and my mom was also diagnosed with it many, many years ago, so it seems likely that I have it.

It’s only 10 p.m., and already I’m feeling sleepy. I guess I’m finally realizing that I’m getting old. Although if I said that out loud to anyone, they would look at my cross-eyed and proclaim, “You’re not old! You’re only 23!” I feel much older than 23, let me tell you. Plus, my idea of fun is knitting and baking and watching Bollywood films. By default, I’d say I’m at least 58.

I am a mug collector. Some people collect stamps or pens. Not me. I collect mugs. I think it stems down to the fact that I not only love the various designs on mugs, but they’re something I use in my daily life, unlike stamps that you hide away in a scrapbook. Since tea is so important to me, collecting mugs are just natural. Whenever Keeg and I travel, I can’t resist buying a mug.

The one on the left, if you didn’t already know is a quote from The Smith’s “Reel Around the Fountain,” courtesy of Keeg. The one on the right is a standard Ikea mug I bought for 69 cents on which I drew a matryoshka doll on with ceramic paints. It was my first attempt, so it doesn’t look all that great. You really need a steady hand to be able to draw on mugs with paint.

That’s my Democrat mug from Urban Outfitters. It’s a great size and it’s got people I like on it. The second one was bought at I believe TJ Maxx. If you’re into mugs, Marshall’s and TJ Maxx are great places to find quirky and unique ones. It came with a tea bag holder in the shape of a bee.

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My Sunday was spent as Sundays always should be: doing a whole lotta nothing, a little bit of baking and a good amount of relaxing with Henry, the little heartbeat at my feet. From what I can tell, he’s recovering well from his luxating patella surgery. He takes antibiotic twice a day, and pain medication once a day. He’s eating well and can move around on his bandaged legs. On Thursday, he has an appointment back at the vet to remove his bandages. I’m a bit terrified about that, because of the staples in his legs. I’d rather they just leave the bandages on until he fully recovers, but I know that’s not possible.

I was asked to bake a cake for an office birthday and if you know me, you know that I can never turn down an offer to bake. It took a long time for me to decide on one I liked. Once again, the recipe came from RecipeZaar. I looked at one of my favorite sites, Epicurious first, but they really had nothing I was looking for. The recipes I’ve found there have been disappointing me lately. The recipe, Amazing Solan Family Chocolate Cake, was just what I was looking for. This recipe was particularly unique because it is a Swedish cake recipe that contains no milk or eggs and is low-fat. The recipe did have a warning on it to make bundt pan extra greasy, as it was a sticky cake, and even though I did make sure it was well greased, it was such a delicate cake that a part of it became a bit crumbled.

I put some glaze on top of it and this is how it turned out…

I might garnish it with some strawberries before I take it in. Although I would have liked it to look better, I have a feeling the taste will make up for the looks. This is definitely a recipe I would make again, I’m sure the cake tastes amazing on its own, without the glaze.

After a luxating patella surgery and 2 days in the hospital, Henry the Maltese is back at home! I was given some instructions, medicine and subsequent dates that Henry must be back at the vet for x-rays and bandage removal. After paying the balance of his surgery, they brought him out and as soon as he saw me, his head tilted completely to the side, as if to say, “Where did you go and why did you leave me here.” The next few moments were very bitter sweet, as I felt so relieved to finally have him in my arms, but so upset that he had to experience surgery. As soon as I saw his two little bandaged legs, my heart melted.

He is no longer a Maltese, but a Chinese Crested Dog, as his whole backside was shaved. He’s so fashionable in his turquoise star-studded bandages, don’t you think? The surgery was a success! I saw the x-rays and his patella is in the right place. He also has pins in both legs, but that’s ok. The doctor said that if down the line, he experiences discomfort, the pins can be removed.

This surgery is usually done one leg at a time, but Henry’s were quite bad, so they both had to be done at the same time. He’s on crate rest for many weeks and will be back at the vet next week to remove his bandages. The minute we brought him home, I put him in his crate, where he proceeded to pee for about 2 minutes. When you gotta, go, you gotta go.

I fed him a bit, and must give him some antibiotics later tonight, but now he is resting comfortably with his toys.

Apparently, Henry was such a good dog while he was at the hospital. He ate all the food he was given, was fine with the other dogs, waiting for his breakfast in the mornings and didn’t even need an Elizabethan collar during his stay. I raised him right.

It really surprised me that he ate while he was in their care, because he is a notoriously picky eater, but the vet told me that he suspects he never ate properly because he was in pain from his knees. He said animals have a funny way of showing they’re in pain and that’s usually by not eating, so this entire time, that we’ve thought he is just so picky, was because of the fact that his knees hurt him. As soon as I brought him home, he ate his wet and dry food – amazing!

Yesterday, I got him a couple presents from Three Dog Bakery and the minute he saw that fish toy below, I think his entire life became complete. It was as if he hadn’t had surgery. Henry is a very possessive dog when it comes to his toys. If you even so much as touch the toys he’s scattered all over the living room floor, you’re in trouble. If you clean them up and put them back in his crate, he’ll make sure he scatters them all over the place again. It’s funny, because when I was really young, I was the same way with my toys.

This weekend is going to be full of a lot of resting, helping and loving and I can’t wait until he gets better. So many people kept him in their prayers and thought of him, so I think he definitely got by with a little help from his friends. Thanks to everyone that wished him well, it means more than you know! More updates as he gets better, but for now, some well needed sleep.

As I previously mentioned, Henry was scheduled to have surgery on his knee for a luxating patella, a nasty condition that usually affects small breed dogs and results in dislocation of the knee cap. Well, today was the day that I woke up, got dressed, put him in my lap in the car and drove to the vet to drop him off for his surgery. I looked calm and acted calm, but inside I was so horribly terrified. I still am. After filling out paper work, I had to hand him over to the nurse. I knew that he knew something was going on. How could he not? I left the vet’s office to go to work, but all I wanted to do was go and take him back.

I couldn’t concentrate on work the entire day and when I finally called the vet at 3 p.m., they informed me that they hadn’t even started the surgery because they were waiting for the orthopedic surgeon to arrive. I was told to call back at 5, which I did and I spoke to the surgeon who told me the surgery went well and that he was stable and recovering. He also informed me that both his legs were operated on.

This came as a shock to me, because I was previously told that they would both be done separately, but his condition was so bad that they decided to do both at once. There are pros and cons that come along with that, with the obvious con being that he can’t walk at all and needs more help. However, this means he won’t have to go through another surgery, which is great.

He’s at the hospital right now overnight, however since the hospital does not have a 24-hour staff, he’s there with no people in sight. This is so worrying to me and although they assured me that he would be fine and that they make sure he’s comfortable and stable before they leave, I can’t help but be upset that no one is there with him. I don’t even know how I’m going to go to bed tonight, as Henry sleeps with me either on the edge or under the bed. When he gets uncomfortable or misses me, he comes and plops himself right in my arms, lets out a sigh and then snuggles me to sleep.

Without fail, he will be waiting outside the door every time I step foot in the bathroom, whether it’s to wash my hands or take a shower. He is the perpetual waiter. On hot Summer nights, he lays by the screen door and just looks outside. I don’t know what he’s looking at, since it’s so dark, but he seems to like it, so we let him lounge and let him be.

He’s also fiercely overprotective. This morning while we were sitting at a traffic light, he caught a glimpse of the passenger in the car next to us and proceeded to bark up a storm. So here I am, trying to control a lunging dog while keeping both hands on the wheel, WHILE trying to turn left, all because someone looked at Henry the wrong way.

I am going to pick him up tomorrow and I suspect we’re going to have a long 8 weeks ahead of us for recovery, but it’s ok. I cannot imagine my life without him.