dysplaced

Last month when two of my sisters were recovering from major surgeries, Beth said to me: “I hope this isn’t one of those times when bad things happen in threes.” She said this to me from her hospital bed, so I laughed and told her that I thought SHE was my number three. But I think that because she did not require major invasive surgery, it didn’t count.

So now I’m wondering, does it have to be a family member of the human variety to count as my number three? Does it have to be covered by insurance? We've got another contender.

This one will be major


This one will be expensive


This particular surgical experience was such a treat that Aunt Charlotte did it twice!


We’re hoping once will be enough.


We recently learned that a member of our family is going to need a Total Hip Replacement.

(fyi, this is not the: "woe is me, my hip is trying to shove itself up my asshole" face. This is the: "woe is me, they are going to make me sleep on my outside bed all day when I'd prefer to sleep on my inside bed all day" face)

I don’t even know what to say about it. It’s easy to think that we should not have brought home a puppy without knowing what horrors might be lurking in her genes; easy to say that this is ridiculous, it’s too much money, too tough a recovery, too much a toll on all of us…especially her.

So if that is what you feel you must say, please just don’t. I know.

If she belonged to someone else, she would probably just live in pain, most likely hobbled by the ripe old age of two. Or she would be put down because of the cost. But she’s ours, and we’re going to fix her. Turns out we want her more than we want that trip to Hawaii. We've been saving our tax return for that, and I almost booked the trip last week – wonder what stopped me. My cosmic waitress? I have just about had it with that bitch.

We are lucky that we got a tax return. We are lucky that we live in a brokedown palace, and we're not house poor. We are lucky that the worst of this will coincide with the portion of summer when Bill is on break but the kids are still in school. In the long run, it simply is what it is. What point is there in lamenting the facts when they are staring us in the face?

Sorry for the crappy image, I don't actually have a wall-mounted light box.

Does anyone want to guess what in hell that is about to finish its journey through her digestive tract? The vet said at first she thought it was a bullet, but we think it’s more likely the wiggly eyes that have gone missing from my girl’s beanie baby.

Oh, the things those eyes have seen.

ps: Happy Birthday, Beth!