Top Ten Tuesday is an original feature/weekly meme created at The Broke and the Bookish which I found out about thanks to Amber over at Me, My Shelf & I.
There's a new book-related top ten list every single week and it is a
great way to get to know other book-loving bloggers! Everyone is welcome
to join in the weekly linky party, even if you can't think of TEN for a
certain Tuesday (just think of as many as you can!), just make sure you
link back to The Broke and the Bookish if you do!
This week's topic is:
TOP TEN CHARACTERS WHO REMIND ME OF MYSELF OR SOMEONE I KNOW IN REAL LIFE
Although I identify with almost all characters I read, I found this list to be quite difficult to put together. Therefore, I stuck to the five characters that, before I was faced with this assignment, jumped off the page and screamed their similarities to me. This can also double as part of my list of my favorite reads of all time!
CHARACTERS THAT REMIND ME OF ME:
1. Barbara Thorson from I Kill Giants by Joe Kelly and JM Ken Nimura Because I understand her battle and know how hard it can be to kill giants at any age.
2. Boo Radley from To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee Because since leaving work I have become as pallid and reclusive as Boo and imagine that the kids in my neighborhood are coming up with fantastic tales about me every day :)
CHARACTER THAT REMINDS ME OF MY BEST FRIEND, DAWN: 3. Sophia from I Kill Giants by Joe Kelly and KM Nimura Because she never gave up on Barbara and stood by her through all of her battles.
CHARACTER THAT REMINDS ME OF MY MOM:
4. The Tree from The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein Because she always gave and it always made her happy.
CHARACTER THAT REMIND ME OF MY HUSBAND:
5. Hobbes from Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson Because we go, together on all of the crazy adventures we can imagine, have long philosophical and sometimes ridiculous conversations, he's cuddly, likes tuna and has been known to tackle loved ones with a strength that doesn't seem fair. Also, he is predisposed to having impromptu dance parties in the middle of the living room without warning.
So what about you? Which characters would you pick?
Yesterday was my Buffy's last day. While I am confident now that she is ok, I wonder how I will be. They are selfish thoughts, I know, but I have come to realize in my life that, in fact, that is what mourning is about and that's alright. Our soul has lost a companion and it aches... this is what mourning is.
In terms of pet loss, though, there is sometimes another emotion entwined within that: guilt. Not all pet owners choose this path, but it is very common for you to be given the responsibility of deciding when your love will leave this world. This is an immense responsibility and burden to place upon anyone at any time. My husband and I were given this choice on Friday night. We were told Buffy had cancer, did not have long to live and would not survive any chemo. Add to this that our last dog, Chewy died unexpectedly at home without either of us there (it was the day I was rushed to the emergency room and admitted due to what would finally be diagnosed as Intracranial Hypertension), we were set on not having Buffy suffer in any way.
By Saturday night, my husband and I were already discussing (through tears) what signs we would look for to decide when the time was "right" recognizing that many of the signs were already being shown. As our girl spent the entire night throwing up, having accidents and not sleeping at all, by morning the decision was made. It still took hours for me to make "the phone call." Finally, at 2pm I called the vet and made the appointment for 4pm. I was devastated and frantically searched the Internet for a prayer for putting a dog to sleep. I needed something... what I found was so impossibly perfect, that I feel like it was sent by angels themselves. Here is the poem I found on, of all places, the Garden Web:
IF IT SHOULD BE
If it should be that I grow weak
And pain should keep me from my sleep,
Then you must do what must be done,
For this last battle cannot be won.
You will be sad, I understand.
Don't let your grief then stay your hand.
For this day, more than all the rest,
Your love for me must stand the test.
We've had so many happy years.
What is to come can hold no fears.
You'd not want me to suffer so;
The time has come -- please let me go.
Take me where my need they'll tend,
And please stay with me till the end.
Hold me firm and speak to me,
Until my eyes no longer see.
I know in time that you will see
The kindness that you did for me.
Although my tail its last has waved,
From pain and suffering I've been saved.
Please do not grieve -- it must be you
Who had this painful thing to do.
We've been so close, we two, these years;
Don't let your heart hold back its tears.
--- Anonymous ---
I ran to my husband, who was lying with Buffy on our bed and I read it to him. It was beautiful, consoling, and perfect. It gave us the courage to love Buffy when she needed it most. It gave us the courage to do what was right for her even though it would hurt us so dramatically.
The fact is, watching her go to sleep was a great relief. Her pain was over. (Mine was just beginning, I knew.) She finally was able to sleep without being wakened by the pain and sickness inside of her. My beautiful baby could finally rest... and once she had a good night's sleep, I knew she would go find Chewy, on The Rainbow Bridge.
My husband and I learned about The Rainbow Bridge when Chewy died. When we went to pick up her ashes, we were given a card with its story inside. Ever since, we've been big believers in it and know that that is where Buffy is right now. If you have not heard of it yet, here is the story of The Rainbow Bridge:
The Rainbow Bridge
Just this side of heaven is a place called
Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal who has been especially close to someone dies, that pet
goes to the Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so
they can run and play together. There is plenty of food and water and sunshine, and our
friends are warm and comfortable.
Animals who were ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who
were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them from days
and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one thing: they miss
someone very special to them; the person they left behind.
All of the animals run and play together, but the day comes when one
suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; his eager body
quivers. Suddenly he begins to break away from the group, flying over the green grass, his
legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special
friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. Happy
kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once
more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from
your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together…
This is how I'm getting through today. Knowing I did what was right with the support of my husband. Knowing Buffy is in a better place. And knowing that yesterday, before we went to the vet, we gave our Buffy the greatest last day ever with laying in the grass, hanging out in our bed with us and the cherry on top: a private (no Champ-the-ShihTzu allowed) walk through the park where she met so many children and people, chased ducks and geese and was actually allowed to eat whatever crazy scraps of food she found on the ground! I'm so grateful for yesterday's perfection.
But even more than that, I am forever grateful for the dog I was blessed with for over twleve years of my life.
It's 2:14 in the morning. My plan for this moment was that I would be sitting down getting ready to write my review of PIXAR's latest release Brave. Earlier this week I went to my movie theater to buy my tickets to the midnight showing in advance. I wrote to the staff at Word of the Nerd to see if anyone else was going to the midnight show or if they would be interested in my review as well; they were. With tickets in hand and schedule set for late night writing, I arrived at the theater with ten minutes to spare.
The trailers were fun. The PIXAR short, La Luna, was, as I anticipated, simply wonderful. In fact it wasn't until ten minutes into the movie Brave that things started to go dark... literally. Just as the story was building, right as our protagonist was taking us down a mysterious forest, the screen went black - the movie stopped. Moans and groans erupted throughout the theater; this wasn't new to any of us, ever since the theaters have changed from film projectors to whatever digital output they have now, the glitches have been endless and repetitive.
Two examples I have recently experienced are:
Audio output and video output are not synced up as if I am watching a poorly dubbed foreign film, and
In 3D movies (as recently as Prometheus and The Avengers) I have had to personally alert the staff in my local movie theater that the film is showing up as double images even when we're wearing the glasses (in fact, this has become such a regular occurrence that I can now identify the issue in the concessions commercial so I can tell the staff before the movie begins).
One has to wonder, was this someone's idea of a joke?
Tonight's infraction, though, takes the cake. After the movie inexplicably stopped and paused for a moment it started up again all the way back at the beginning - and by "beginning" I mean we got to see La Luna again. The audience wasn't happy. I loved the short and was at least happy we weren't that far into the movie. I tweeted the movie theater company, took the opportunity to hop out for a bathroom break and continued watching the movie. I promise you, if that was all that happened, you would be reading my review of Brave right now instead of this post.
With about 20-30 minutes left in the movie the screen went black again. This time people just got out of their seats. I held steady. The movie flipped back about five minutes and started playing again, but something was wrong with the sound. I couldn't figure out what was happening until my husband leaned over and said, "It's La Luna. The sound is from the short." Somehow, some way the audio got reset to the beginning of the movie.
It's no longer funny when the laughter turns maniacal...
Disgusted laughs filled the theater. People shouting, "Are you kidding me?" or "Give me my money back!" quickly overshadowed the audio problem. Then the screen went black for one last time. When the new scene appeared the audio was fixed, but this was no scene from my memory. They had skipped straight to the climax of the movie! "They just ruined the movie," came the disappointed voice of my husband. He was right. I have no idea how the protagonist came to be in the position she was, but the scene that was playing before my eyes was the one we had been building to through the entire film.
I don't like spoilers. It's part of why I like midnight showings so much: it is very difficult for someone to tell me what happened in the movie before I see it when I get my butt in the theater the very first moment possible. I am quite sure many of the others in the theater with me felt the same way. In other words, this movie mishap couldn't have happened to a worse crowd.
So while I have become accustomed to movie mishaps in my twenty-six years of dealing with the same local movie theater, tonight easily marks the most heart-breaking one to date. And although I have my share of mishaps from the film days (melted film in the middle of viewing, anyone?), I must say that a spoiled ending was never in the realm of possibility. I appreciate all that the digital brings us in the form of clearer pictures and sound and, perhaps, it is even an easier delivery system for those working in the theater, but I can not ignore that even in the year 2012 we are experiencing some major growing pains with this new technology.
Any way I look at it, I am disappointed and starting to lose my patience. I don't want to be the bad guy that starts publicly blasting every time my theater falls apart, but tonight as I quietly got up, left the theater to go wait in line to get a replacement ticket, I couldn't help but think of another consumer whose patience was once pushed too far.
All I want to do is watch a movie, in a movie theater from beginning to end (in that order) with appropriate audio, video and temperature control (a post for another time). I am now paying over $12 per ticket to do so; I don't think I am asking for much. Am I?
Yesterday I went to my neuro-opthalmologist for my check-up.
After a brief exam, my doctor began feverishly flipping through my records. He had two folders. The pages were written on their front and back and, from what I could tell, he appeared to be looking at everything. I'm so lucky I have such a thorough doctor, I told myself in a secret promise to keep things positive. However, somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind were questions, Isn't this just routine? Didn't he just say things looked stable? Is stable no longer good enough?!
Finally, he spun around on his stool and told me all he was thinking. I sat stunned. I can't even imagine what my faced must have looked like: amused? offended? confused? terrified?
Exactly three years and one week from the day I was diagnosed, three years and one week from the spinal tap that answered all the questions, this doctor was calling that diagnosis and spinal tap into question. "I want to play devil's advocate here. What if you never had Intracranial Hypertension?" He wondered about how the spinal tap was taken, since he wasn't there. He wondered about my initial symptoms, since he took me on three months after in an emergency eye surgery to save me from blindness. He wondered if everything he saw came from something else and perhaps the diagnosis was incorrect.
My doctor, like most of the specialists I have dealt with on this journey, is also a researcher, an intellectual and curious. I respect this and understand this, even on the days it flips my life upside down. He proposed an "experiment" to possibly answer the questions and, in turn, possibly speed along the process of me getting off the medication I've been on for three years. He told my husband and I to think about it. He told us to decide if it is something we think is worth trying (and risking) and he told me what to do if I decide to go for it.
The proposal:
Drop off my medication and get a second spinal tap now to see where my pressure is.
Risk Factors:
If my intracranial pressure is still high, then I am putting my already damaged vision in danger again. BLINDNESS is a possibility.
Possible Benefits:
If my intracranial pressure is normal, then I can stop taking Diamox, which (a) sucks the life out of me, (b) my body is starting to show signs that it might have a sensitivity to, and, most importantly, (c) is stopping my husband and I from starting our family.
Questions that will be answered as a result of this "experiment":
Maybe only one. If the pressure is high, then we will know that I currently have active intracranial hypertension (IH) and the initial diagnosis was correct. If it is normal, a new question will be raised - Was my initial diagnosis wrong, or was it correct and the IH just went into remission?
So why am I sharing all of this nonsense with you on my blog tonight? Well, two reasons: First of all, I'm doing it and it is equally terrifying and infuriating. The terror comes from the risk, of course. I already suffered through two years of being unable to read because of something wrecking havoc on my eyes and I don't ever want to go back there again. The infuriating part comes from being swept back up into the tidal wave of the "unknown" - although I was diagnoses with a rare disease, having a name for what caused all my problems has been comforting; calling that name in to question is nothing less than disconcerting (never mind, as my husband reminded me, I almost had a brain shunt put in due to this disease!).
The second reason I am blogging all about this is that I know this is not going to be easy. Whether my sight falters or not, I am most likely walking into a world of pain when I take down these meds. My doctor has instructed me to keep going even if the headaches come. The only thing that should bring the experiment to a screeching halt is vision complications. Those are my instructions. Tomorrow I will call the hospital to make my appointment for my LP (lumbar puncture/spinal tap) and build my schedule for coming off the meds from there.
If I can be so bold to make a request of you, it would be this: please send me good vibes in any way that you see fit - prayers, reiki, happy thoughts, virtual hugs, etc. I will take it all. I know I have only come this far in my healing journey on the wings of such mystical creatures and I feel this could be their greatest load to carry yet!
