Stress And MG

So yesterday was horrible.  First stressor of the day:  my husband comes home from work with a certified letter from a doctor he saw last October.  It contained a letter and an order for a follow-up chest x-ray for the nodule in his lung.  I was like WHAT?!?!?!?  I FREAKED all over him.  I told him he IS going for that x-ray, and he WILL promise me and get it done...

He was all nonchalant...I was like, after everything with my dad (lung cancer twice) you're not going to take this seriously???  And I'm bawling all over him.  Yah.

So my second stressor was the a-hole farmer next door.  The guy that owns the land next to us leased it to a farmer.  Well.  I didn't think it would be that bad.  What was I thinking???  Not like I had a choice, but holy crap!  It's so dusty and dry...AND he's spreading manure on it.  NICE.  This whole "living-on-a-farm" thing is going a little too far. 

Then Doug comes in and says that there's junk from the 10 acres next door on OUR property.  Barbed wire, trees, stumps, dirt, etc.  AND he's been turning his big ass equipment around in our back field, where we have little pine trees planted.  PLUS, there's manure running off onto OUR property, into our one of our little "swamps" that is ALSO a drainage ditch.  Can you say, hello DEQ???

So I call the farmer's business.  Voicemail.  Called his house.  Talked to his wife (she sounded like she could give a flip) and said she'd call her husband, after I told her to have him call me.  So we also called the landowner (who is a really nice guy, and obviously this is not his fault) to let him know as well. 

THEN, (this is 8:30 at night) this big ass farm equipment is back on the property.  The landowner had given Doug the farmer's cell phone number, so I called him to tell him about the problems.  I said, "In fact, there's someone there right now."  He says, "Yup, that's me.  If you got something to say, come and find me."  And he HUNG. UP. ON. ME.

WHO does that???  Seriously???  I was SO pissed.  I could feel my heart pounding...if I had been physically able, I would have walked my butt out there and given him the what for.  What a jerk.  Jackwagon.

Yeah...we'll see.  He said he'd get it cleaned up today...he better, or we will just have to call the police, the DNR, and the DEQ.  I've got way too much stress in my life already than to deal with this doorknob.

Then, the final straw:  Molly went back to the vet yesterday to get her staples and stitches out.  When I picked her up from the vet LAST Monday, I was a little irritated because they gave me NO instruction other than "keep it dry, and bring her back in 7 days to get the stitches out.)  So Doug brought her in yesterday afternoon (7 days later) to get them out.  It started "weeping" a little (sorry if this grosses you out), so I called the vet, and they said that's normal...if it gets worse call back.

Well, about 9:40PM, just after we ate SUPPER (yes, at almost 10 at night)  Doug grabs Molly to look at her boo-boo, and the incision had OPENED UP.  There was a 2" long, 1/2" deep WOUND on my little Molly's side.  I was BEYOND upset.  I called the vet, and got a message to call the new vet on his cell.  So I did, and he sounded SO like he didn't give a crap, and he wasn't going to come in and fix it tonight.  He's like, when did I do the surgery?  I'm like, "Last Monday."  He's like, "Oh really."  I'm like, "Yes, and they told me to bring her back in 7 days.  How long should it have been?"  He's like "10-14.  It should have been on your paperwork and receipt."  Um, NOPE.  Now, in his defense, this guy is a GREAT vet, and he's VERY laid back. But I was MAD.  He told us to put an ace bandage around her.  I'm like, should we put anitbiotic ointment on it?  He said, "yeah."

So this morning at 8AM, the second they opened, Doug's at the door waiting.  The vet saw Molly's boo-boo and was PISSED.  The main vet should NOT have taken the staples and stitches out without asking when they were put in.  He was also pissed at the person who told me 7 days, AND pissed that there were no instructions given.  I'm like, you and me both, buddy.

I sent Doug in with all the paperwork they gave me, and wrote right on there, "I was given NO instruction on how to deal with Molly except to keep the incision dry, and to come back in 7 days."  So he re-sutured and re-stapled her (treated the wound first), gave us anti-biotics and other medicine we have to put IN the wound tract (um yeah, Doug will be doing that) twice a day, for FREE.  Good thing, because if I had to pay more...I swear, if anything happens to my little Molly....I've had her for 11 years....SOMEONE will pay.

So yeah.  That's enough rambling, but that was all in one day.  Add to that all the every day stressors of life:  marriage, raising a child, taking care of dogs, bills, appointments, AND add MG and medications and refills and doctors and all that crap....And you get a blob of non-functioning human being.