If it's not one thing, it's the dog

Mr. 1inamillion is in the hospital. Every round of chemo is followed by what we refer to as crash week. The amount of good stuff in his blood drops and as the poison runs through his system, he tends to crash. Usually in bed or on the couch in front of TVLand until the count of good stuff increases. This crash week, however, included far too much crashing.



Monday he fell off the porch. I finally met the one new neighbor I hadn't as he helped me pick Mr. 1inamillion up out of the yard. Dane heard our Bruiser barking in the back and headed out the front door expecting to catch Britney jumping the fence. Instead he got dizzy, lightheaded and fell from the front porch. He was dehydrated so his blood pressure dropped each time he stood. We headed into the treatment center for IV fluids.



Wednesday he started running a fever so we headed into the hospital. In addition to the fever, his blood pressure was sixty-something over forty-something (I retain just the bare minimum. Don't judge, it's one of my key coping mechanisms). Apparently that is incredibly low and made his walk up to the 7th floor a bit on the miraculous side. He was quickly admitted and started on more IV fluids, antibiotics and received two units of blood.



Thursday the color returned to his face and he started gaining a bit of strength. (Thank you, A-negative donors. We are very appreciative of your good stuff.) His blood pressure was up, his fever continued but remained low-grade.



Friday morning I returned to the hospital with my laptop in tow, anticipating a relatively routine day of Mr. 1inamillion napping while I worked. I arrived to hear his fever had spiked to one hundred and four during the night. (Did you catch that? Not one hundred point four, but really 104.00. F%$!) It had dropped to one hundred point something and my working while he napped began.



Thirty minutes later that ended when my phone rang for the second time. The first was a call from my office line, which I let roll to voice mail whenever I'm working by the side of a snoozing cancer patient. The second call was from a number with our hometown exchange, so I answered. It was the school nurse, Thing 2 had a fever and was complaining that her stomach hurt. I needed to come pick her up within 30 minutes (which is just the distance from the hospital).



I packed up office, kissed my snoozing man and headed out the door as fast as I could while dialing my dad. We were on the phone as I walked, discussing who could get to the school faster when call waiting displayed another Mulvane number. Thinking for sure this would be the other school about Thing 1, I hung up with Dad and answered the call that would begin my full blown decent into profane rants, out loud.



"This is the Mulvane Police Department. Do you have a Boxer? There is one loose hanging around your yard."



"Son of a b%#@!, Yes, I have a boxer."



"Your dog has bit someone and we have an officer on site but it's giving her a hard time. How soon can you or your husband get there?"



"Well, My husband is in the hospital. I am leaving there to pick up my daughter from Munson who is sick. I have to get her within thirty minutes so I can make it over to the house SHORTLY AFTER 30 MINUTES."



I called Dad. We decided he would head over to rescue Brit from whatever trouble she had gotten into and I would go get Thing 2. (He has proven to be a pro at helping us out of self-inflicted troubles)



I did laugh for a moment at this chaos and then... $%*&....$#!!!......%^&!!!....*%$#.



I called my sister (hands-free of course) as I sped down 135 and greeted her with, "Are you with a customer? Because I need to rant!" She was not, so I was able to continue with,"%$#^....!#$!!....and I'm pretty sure I could be a reality TV star if I could just stop cussing. %^&!......$%^&!!!"



(Shelly said she always thought her life could be a Lifetime movie. I refuse to be one of those. They are not funny. I want to focus on the funny, and I don't want to be one of those who is completed blocked out with all of the bleeps. I need to get my %^&! together and send in a bio to TLC.)



I picked up my daughter and her tiny fever and we made it to our house to be welcomed by the officer with the Animal Control van. Brit had indeed jumped the fence and had ALLEGEDLY charged at a man walking across the street and ALLEGEDLY bit the back of his leg which may have left a small scratch.



God bless that officer. She was incredibly kind and as gentle as she could be while placing the following straw on this camel's back:



"Angela Johnette Daniel unlawfully allowed her dog to run at large within the city as defined in section 205.180."



"Angela Johnette Daniel unlawfully kept, possessed or harbored a dangerous and vicious animal within the city."



I get to appear in court on October 5th to answer the above complaints. (awesome. because I don't have anything going on that day.) If I fail to appear a warrant will be issued for my arrest. Brit has to be in quarantine with the vet of our choosing for ten days.



I tried very hard to bear the weight of this crash week until the officer left, and I almost did. I turned away when the tears started as she was getting into the van but I was heaving in my father's arms as she pulled out.


Thing 2 was fine after one dose of Tylenol. Britney's paperwork was faxed from the Humane Society proving current shots and we got her secured into quarantine at our vet's office in Derby. MC tagged along for that ride and is now caught up on kitty boosters. Thing 1 got to visit Daddy at the hospital while Thing 2 hung out with Grandpa.


This morning, one of my rock star nieces got up early (morning after Homecoming, how awesome is that?) to watch the kids (and made them clean!) while I stopped by the vet's office to take Brit for a quick walk/run and then headed to the hospital. (Yes, puppy prison allows run visits.) Mr. 1inamillion's temperature is normal. He may be able to come home tomorrow, providing it stays that way through the night.

In less than six hours, crash week should be coming to an end. Our chaos is settling, my vocabulary is improving and after only two minutes of attention this morning, I still have cute hair (Thanks, Carrie!). I may be ready for TLC after all...or news cameras. Or to totally rock a mug shot. (Whatever. It's hard telling what can happen in six hours.)