Our Pug Burton

Nothing New about Burt. Just we love him, so here's some photos.

Spoon Theory

This post is a reposting of an article sent to me by my wife. She's perpetually under the weather, and this helps one understand what it is like. I share it with you in hopes that you will share it too.
Originally found at: http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory-written-by-christine-miserandino/

The Spoon Theory

by Christine Miserandino www.butyoudontlooksick.com

My best friend and I were in the diner, talking. As usual, it was very late and we were eating French fries with gravy. Like normal girls our age, we spent a lot of time in the diner while in college, and most of the time we spent talking about boys, music or trivial things, that seemed very important at the time. We never got serious about anything in particular and spent most of our time laughing.

As I went to take some of my medicine with a snack as I usually did, she watched me with an awkward kind of stare, instead of continuing the conversation. She then asked me out of the blue what it felt like to have Lupus and be sick. I was shocked not only because she asked the random question, but also because I assumed she knew all there was to know about Lupus. She came to doctors with me, she saw me walk with a cane, and throw up in the bathroom. She had seen me cry in pain, what else was there to know?

I started to ramble on about pills, and aches and pains, but she kept pursuing, and didn’t seem satisfied with my answers. I was a little surprised as being my roommate in college and friend for years; I thought she already knew the medical definition of Lupus. Then she looked at me with a face every sick person knows well, the face of pure curiosity about something no one healthy can truly understand. She asked what it felt like, not physically, but what it felt like to be me, to be sick.

As I tried to gain my composure, I glanced around the table for help or guidance, or at least stall for time to think. I was trying to find the right words. How do I answer a question I never was able to answer for myself? How do I explain every detail of every day being effected, and give the emotions a sick person goes through with clarity. I could have given up, cracked a joke like I usually do, and changed the subject, but I remember thinking if I don’t try to explain this, how could I ever expect her to understand. If I can’t explain this to my best friend, how could I explain my world to anyone else? I had to at least try.

At that moment, the spoon theory was born. I quickly grabbed every spoon on the table; hell I grabbed spoons off of the other tables. I looked at her in the eyes and said “Here you go, you have Lupus”. She looked at me slightly confused, as anyone would when they are being handed a bouquet of spoons. The cold metal spoons clanked in my hands, as I grouped them together and shoved them into her hands.

I explained that the difference in being sick and being healthy is having to make choices or to consciously think about things when the rest of the world doesn’t have to. The healthy have the luxury of a life without choices, a gift most people take for granted.

Most people start the day with unlimited amount of possibilities, and energy to do whatever they desire, especially young people. For the most part, they do not need to worry about the effects of their actions. So for my explanation, I used spoons to convey this point. I wanted something for her to actually hold, for me to then take away, since most people who get sick feel a “loss” of a life they once knew. If I was in control of taking away the spoons, then she would know what it feels like to have someone or something else, in this case Lupus, being in control.

She grabbed the spoons with excitement. She didn’t understand what I was doing, but she is always up for a good time, so I guess she thought I was cracking a joke of some kind like I usually do when talking about touchy topics. Little did she know how serious I would become?

I asked her to count her spoons. She asked why, and I explained that when you are healthy you expect to have a never-ending supply of “spoons”. But when you have to now plan your day, you need to know exactly how many “spoons” you are starting with. It doesn’t guarantee that you might not lose some along the way, but at least it helps to know where you are starting. She counted out 12 spoons. She laughed and said she wanted more. I said no, and I knew right away that this little game would work, when she looked disappointed, and we hadn’t even started yet. I’ve wanted more “spoons” for years and haven’t found a way yet to get more, why should she? I also told her to always be conscious of how many she had, and not to drop them because she can never forget she has Lupus.

I asked her to list off the tasks of her day, including the most simple. As, she rattled off daily chores, or just fun things to do; I explained how each one would cost her a spoon. When she jumped right into getting ready for work as her first task of the morning, I cut her off and took away a spoon. I practically jumped down her throat. I said ” No! You don’t just get up. You have to crack open your eyes, and then realize you are late. You didn’t sleep well the night before. You have to crawl out of bed, and then you have to make your self something to eat before you can do anything else, because if you don’t, you can’t take your medicine, and if you don’t take your medicine you might as well give up all your spoons for today and tomorrow too.” I quickly took away a spoon and she realized she hasn’t even gotten dressed yet. Showering cost her spoon, just for washing her hair and shaving her legs. Reaching high and low that early in the morning could actually cost more than one spoon, but I figured I would give her a break; I didn’t want to scare her right away. Getting dressed was worth another spoon. I stopped her and broke down every task to show her how every little detail needs to be thought about. You cannot simply just throw clothes on when you are sick. I explained that I have to see what clothes I can physically put on, if my hands hurt that day buttons are out of the question. If I have bruises that day, I need to wear long sleeves, and if I have a fever I need a sweater to stay warm and so on. If my hair is falling out I need to spend more time to look presentable, and then you need to factor in another 5 minutes for feeling badly that it took you 2 hours to do all this.

I think she was starting to understand when she theoretically didn’t even get to work, and she was left with 6 spoons. I then explained to her that she needed to choose the rest of her day wisely, since when your “spoons” are gone, they are gone. Sometimes you can borrow against tomorrow’s “spoons”, but just think how hard tomorrow will be with less “spoons”. I also needed to explain that a person who is sick always lives with the looming thought that tomorrow may be the day that a cold comes, or an infection, or any number of things that could be very dangerous. So you do not want to run low on “spoons”, because you never know when you truly will need them. I didn’t want to depress her, but I needed to be realistic, and unfortunately being prepared for the worst is part of a real day for me.

We went through the rest of the day, and she slowly learned that skipping lunch would cost her a spoon, as well as standing on a train, or even typing at her computer too long. She was forced to make choices and think about things differently. Hypothetically, she had to choose not to run errands, so that she could eat dinner that night.

When we got to the end of her pretend day, she said she was hungry. I summarized that she had to eat dinner but she only had one spoon left. If she cooked, she wouldn’t have enough energy to clean the pots. If she went out for dinner, she might be too tired to drive home safely. Then I also explained, that I didn’t even bother to add into this game, that she was so nauseous, that cooking was probably out of the question anyway. So she decided to make soup, it was easy. I then said it is only 7pm, you have the rest of the night but maybe end up with one spoon, so you can do something fun, or clean your apartment, or do chores, but you can’t do it all.

I rarely see her emotional, so when I saw her upset I knew maybe I was getting through to her. I didn’t want my friend to be upset, but at the same time I was happy to think finally maybe someone understood me a little bit. She had tears in her eyes and asked quietly “Christine, How do you do it? Do you really do this everyday?” I explained that some days were worse then others; some days I have more spoons then most. But I can never make it go away and I can’t forget about it, I always have to think about it. I handed her a spoon I had been holding in reserve. I said simply, “I have learned to live life with an extra spoon in my pocket, in reserve. You need to always be prepared.”

Its hard, the hardest thing I ever had to learn is to slow down, and not do everything. I fight this to this day. I hate feeling left out, having to choose to stay home, or to not get things done that I want to. I wanted her to feel that frustration. I wanted her to understand, that everything everyone else does comes so easy, but for me it is one hundred little jobs in one. I need to think about the weather, my temperature that day, and the whole day’s plans before I can attack any one given thing. When other people can simply do things, I have to attack it and make a plan like I am strategizing a war. It is in that lifestyle, the difference between being sick and healthy. It is the beautiful ability to not think and just do. I miss that freedom. I miss never having to count “spoons”.

After we were emotional and talked about this for a little while longer, I sensed she was sad. Maybe she finally understood. Maybe she realized that she never could truly and honestly say she understands. But at least now she might not complain so much when I can’t go out for dinner some nights, or when I never seem to make it to her house and she always has to drive to mine. I gave her a hug when we walked out of the diner. I had the one spoon in my hand and I said “Don’t worry. I see this as a blessing. I have been forced to think about everything I do. Do you know how many spoons people waste everyday? I don’t have room for wasted time, or wasted “spoons” and I chose to spend this time with you.”

Ever since this night, I have used the spoon theory to explain my life to many people. In fact, my family and friends refer to spoons all the time. It has been a code word for what I can and cannot do. Once people understand the spoon theory they seem to understand me better, but I also think they live their life a little differently too. I think it isn’t just good for understanding Lupus, but anyone dealing with any disability or illness. Hopefully, they don’t take so much for granted or their life in general. I give a piece of myself, in every sense of the word when I do anything. It has become an inside joke. I have become famous for saying to people jokingly that they should feel special when I spend time with them, because they have one of my “spoons”.

© Christine Miserandino

Moto

This is MOTO. She's the shop dog, Steve's dog. He just brings her to work.

Pet Photos

Just a few photos of some of the pets

Burton (Burt)

Kitty. Yep, that's her name.

Azreal. he was out first cat.

Kitten. Yeah, that's really her name too. here's the kicker: she's kitty's kitten.

Say cheese

Zephyr. He's a cocker spaniel, although he often looks like a sheep.

Snow days

This is the snow in Prince George.

Animals Outside the Pet-Store

So when we were out for a drive on Saturday, we come across a spot where everyone is slowing down.
There's a small fuzzy animal crossing the road, and to avoid killing it everyone slows down and lets it pass. Now normals one might just say nothing,  and let it go on it's merry way, But because it was crossing right in front of the local pet store, one thinks 'Is it an animal from the Pet store? Should we do something?' Well, me and my wife decided we should do something. Ok, she was more concerned than me, but I got out, and went to see. There was another couple there too, with their son. Taking a look, wondering what it was, and what to do. A smaller Fuzzy Brown Rodent. Clearly it was not a rat, and it didn't look exactly like anything I was familiar with. It was Clean, and glossy furred. It must be from the pet store. So I went closer. It was trying to go through the chain link fence, but it was not working for it. so it started to move along the fence. when it got closer to me, it stopped. I looked close. Then it moved a little towards me. 'Must be ok with people. It's coming towards me'
No I crouch down, lower my hand, to let it smell me, and see what it does. Ouch! Bite me, that's what it does. It doesn't really hurt, but it bled. Got me right on the heel of my thumb. you know, right where if it had been an inch  further and I would have been bleeding alot more. So I'm standing there, looking at this animal that bit me. I'm not mad, It's my fault. Still not having 100% clued in that it likely isn't from the pet store. I've been bit by a hamster, so it wasn't a stretch. it scratches at my pants, then backs off  a few inches. Then it bites my shoe. I shake my foot mildly to get it to let go. It takes a few seconds. Nothing but rubber though. The couple try and phone animal control, but they get no-one. That's a Saturday evening in winter for you. They send their son to the adjacent A&W to get some napkins, for my bleeding. Eventually the creature decides to go. Only one direction left open. It goes to embankment a few feet away, and stops before taking the 8-10 foot plunge into the shallow snow below. Landing it scurries under the pine tree. Safe and away from the evil people.

At the hospital there was a paramedic. From the description, he thought it might have been a Pine Martin. When I looked photos up, one we got home, I found It was not. From the best I can tell, It was a mink. Explains how an out door animal can have such nice fur. So, even if it's next to the pet store, don't try and see it it's friendly. It's be fine. They are wild animals. Lesson Learned.

Oh, and I guess the only animals in BC with rabies are bats, so no worry there.

Death in the family

Today I got the call. I was expecting it to come some time in the next year or so. But I was not expecting it to be today. Today, this morning, My Grandfather, Victor Oscar Hayward, died. Less than one month after his 83rd, or was it 82nd? Birthday. he made a good run. and until this last couple of months, it's been a very healthy one. However, less than a year ago, he was diagnosed with Cancer. I believe it was of the bladder. So he went for treatment. It sound like it wasn't doing so good. I had moved into his lungs.
I haven't had a chance to talk about it, but I believe it was a heart attack. He had his first one a couple of days ago. I think it was a couple of days ago. The days have gone by so fast the last two months. Last i heard they were having trouble bringing his heart rate back down. I'm sad to see him go. but I am glad he didn't have to go through the worst that cancer has to offer.
I love you Grandpa, and I always will. I will always strive tobe a little like you.
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About my Grandfather:
Born in the northern half of Saskatchewan. The 10th of 13 children. young enough that he never really knew some of them. I believe he still has a sister who's still around.
During WWII he was in the military, but he never left the country. It made it so that I'm around, so I'm happy about that.
He worked for the railroad when my father was born. him and my grandma Lived in moye. in a small house by the tracks. I think that was for only about a year. Then they moved into the house next door to my Great Grand parents (Grandma's Side)  Nana(Kathryn?) Armstrong, and (Pop)Howard Armstrong.
The took the top level off of the house and gave it a new roof. They lived there, together, for the rest of his life. Where my father grew up. and where I had the pleasure of doing pieces of my growing up.
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When I was a kid, My grandfather:
Taught me how to play checkers and how to play Cribbage, and badminton, and how to work the Commodore 64. He has an electric race-car track set-up in the basement, that was a lot of fun.
there's also a wooden sword he made, that I liked.
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He played baseball until my early teens, until his joints got a little to soar.
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I am not sure how old I was, but when I was young, one summer, me and my grandfather pulled all of his bottles and cans out of the shed to be sorted. It took us all day. Back then you had to sort them into pepsi and coke piles, because you didn't get as much back if you took them to the wrong one. once you were there, you sorted them into flats of the same size. then they gave you what it was worth.
I had a lot of fun doing that with him. The next year we did the same thing. He had a little cart that he pulled behind his bicycle, and when he saw a can he would pick-it up and throw it in. So when it cam summer, and time to sort the cans, he had so many, it completely filled that little shed. It was great spending the time with my grandpa.  After we sorted, and took the cans in, he gave me the money for them. I think he said "Money for the summer". but I didn't really understand. I didn't do it for the money, I did it to spend the time with him. And I guess that's why he did it too. So we could do it together. I'm going to miss getting to do things with him.
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he worked a good while as security for Fort Steel Park. So that meant he wasn't always at home, or wasn't awake, when I was there. But it sure did make him a great tour guide it you went through the park. He knew the performers, so he was a little more than willing to be pull ed up on stage for that part of the show. I think it embarrassed my grandma a little. Mmmm, old time candy sticks from the heritage town candy store (rum-butter it the best).
When it cam the age where he had to retire from that job, he became Custodian/Janitor at the local High School. He took me with him one day. It was kind of interesting. I got a lot of cool mechanical pencils, pens, and the likes out of that. I like fancy mechanical pencils. maybe to much. When he worked there, he went back to school. He never finished high school as a kid. being a farm kid and all, it was not all that unusual. but when he went back, it was awesome. He managed to complete everything but his math. I don't blame him. but having probably 50 years since his last math class, I applaud him. he passed every class but that. I don't think I could do the math now, even being only 13 years out of high school.
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When He finally retired, he played Golf, and Curling.  He got really good at golf. I don't think I ever could be. I admired that he still did those kind of thing in his later years. I hope I can live long enough to do something like it.
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I looked up to my grandfather, and I still do.
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in 2005 we celebrated my grandparent's 50th Anniversary.
when I went there last, his room in the basement, the one full of amazing tools and electronics from a different era, was a little bit empty. He didn't have his Shortwave Radio, or Moris code equipment set up anymore. it was gone. We talked about some things, like my dad's truck. I like my dad't truck. I think he wanted to work in there to ask if I wanted his truck. I think I steered away from it. not because I wouldn't use it, but because I din't want to acknowledge his mortality. It seemed a little like he was trying to give thing away. All I wanted was for him to know that I love him.
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The last time we visited I went with him as he went for chemo. I can't say it was the most interesting thing to do, or that we has stuff to talk about the whole way through. But I am glad I got to spend that time with him.
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If we ever have children, it makes me very very sad that they will never get to meet him.
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In the basement, next to his engraving tool, he had a set of token medals that marked all of his "hole-in-one"s. I don't really want anything now that he's died. just something to remember him by. I think I will ask I f I can have them.