Tag Archives: illness


23 Dec

My mom has this old ass dog. Like old. 16 or 17. It was never a bright or fun or happy dog, and now it’s mostly blind, can barely hear, has some form of doggy-dementia or something, and has extremely thin long hair. It isn’t excited about anything- ever- but it does really hate everything. Always has. It’s a truly wretched creature.


I rescued Phoebe when I was a child, when I was too young to really understand that line between life and death. Phoebe should have died. Phoebe wanted to die. She had horrible mange, a crooked jaw, mouth infections, skin infections, ear infections, she was all busted and beat up, infection in her eyes and her eyelids inside out; I mean, Phoebe was as fucked as you could get. And it was not done to her by any person, she was part of a litter of mishaps. Born from a dog that looked only slightly healthier than her and twice as angry. Phoebe was barely hanging on and my childlike heart said: save her.

So I did. I begged and begged and finally my mom let me bring her home, clean her up, have her doctored, cut her hair…

And Phoebe hated me for it. She’s hated me since the beginning. She never really wanted to be my friend anyhow, and she certainly didn’t want to be alive, and after all my efforts to keep her living she thought I was the biggest piece of shit she had ever met.

So I naturally thought she was the cutest thing in the world. Because that’s how I am. And I went about my life and grew up (sort of) and moved away and went to college and Phoebe just shriveled up and continued to have weird skin diseases and eye infections and her teeth fell out and there was always something horribly wrong with her. Miserable little creature, she is. She’s always been a Job- plagued by boils and disasters and whatnot.

Now that we’re getting older, Phoebe and I have entered a new phase in our relationship where whenever she’s aware of my presence the disdain is absolutely profound. The good thing for me is she’s asleep at my feet right this moment and she hasn’t the slightest idea because practically all of her senses are gone. She’s hardly ever aware of anything. Her motor functions are failing as well- as her bladder would like to remind us all.

And while old age and ineptitude is heartbreaking, and her entire existence is kind of a shame, I still think she’s just awesome. And she still retains that hatred. She’s pretty ready to die, as she has been all along, and is still angry at the world each day she wakes up healthy. And I get that, I really do. Been all bummed out and cynical lately so I feel like I have a pretty solid grasp on sadness, but DAMN that dog is sad. And it’s all my fault.


Earlier I took her for a walk. You have to carry her up and down the stairs to the yard, which is terribly uncomfortable to her, and then she only makes it three or four feet. And then she stares. So today she stared at a particular bush- or a low hedge- or whatever, I don’t know it was dark. She stared at it for long enough to piss me off, and just as I was about to call an end to the walk, she took two awkward, stumbly steps and stood in the bush for another little bit. Poor little thing. I’m not even sure she has thoughts anymore. It’s hard to tell since her eyes glassed over years ago. When I brought her in after the walk she promptly bumped into a corner of the room and gave up finding her way out before even trying. Kind of awesome and pathetic all at once.

We kind of have a lot in common that way.




Shit Gets Domestic

5 May

March 3: My friends come into my restaurant, and after eating quietly at the bar for a few moments, announce that they just got engaged. Literally, JUST. Right there at the bar. I steal away for a few minutes, find them some pink champagne, and a few giddy moments later start hatching my plan to throw an engagement party.

March 5: @lindsaygrocks So much planning to do! Ahhh! (the caffeine kicked in)

March 5: @lindsaygrocks It’s not so bad when flowers are involved

RT @xysmas@lindsaygrocks is planning my engagement party. I’m assuming we’ll all die at the end.

March 11: My dog got killed (and relationship went even further into the gutter) so I got a little distracted for a bit- like when I see really great shoes or I start Googling koala bears.

April 2: I have a panic attack in a Party City following a stressful trip to Costco.

April 5: I roll up my sleeves.

April 5: @lindsaygrocks Step 1: Open windows. Step 2: Disable smoke alarm. Step 3: Don’t burn the cupcakes.

@lindsaygrocks Definitely used too much batter.

@lindsaygrocks Putting together a ‘Lindsay gets domestic against every fiber of her being’ mix. Song ideas?

@lindsaygrocks I made giant cupcakes. oops. second try…

@lindsaygrocks Good call

RT @supersloth@lindsaygrocks ‘rocking the suburbs’ – ben folds

@lindsaygrocks It’s a shame about Ray (I named my cupcakes Ray- all of them)

@lindsaygrocksKitchen songs #NowPlaying Kitchen on #Spotify

April 6: The madness continued:

@lindsaygrocks Pickle juice in my eyes. Oh, the humanity!

@lindsaygrocks Hid the smoke alarm under the couch but it went off anyhow. But now I can’t reach it.

@lindsaygrocks Cocktail weenies. Classy.

@lindsaygrocks Ok listen, if you don’t want me to show up with a recipe involving pickle juice and cheese, don’t get married. Ever.

@lindsaygrocks They look very Halloween-y. They’re perfect.

@lindsaygrocks If I made Easter colored deviled eggs for an atheist couple’s party, would that make me Satan? I’m so confused.

@lindsaygrocks All the prep work is done. Now on to the important issues: Which dress shall I wear?

April 7: I take the night off, set up lace and flowers and food and cutesy stuff, take a million photos, gush with pride and the same time sadness (over the closing of one chapter in our lives) and overall have a good night.

April 8: I wake up sick with fever. Sinus infection. Allergy to the flowers. No kidding.

…And isn’t that just like my life? 😉

Things I Remember About my Father

7 Mar
Fifteen years ago today, one month after my twelfth birthday, my dad succumbed to his long, arduous battle with Non- Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. We all still miss him very much. Fifteen years ago Floyd came into the world and befriended me during that sad time. I wish she had gotten to meet him. Here are some of my memories of him that I tell her about.

His smile. He smiled a lot.

His love of water and boats.

He loved me lots.

He could learn and master anything- and quickly.

He liked to travel. He always meant to revisit Japan.

He was very independent.

He had a great memory, especially of people.

He was really good at math.

Our house was never empty- he was a true socialite.

He could pop his shoulder out of socket because of the way his bullet wound healed. (He got shot in Vietnam.)

He scared the shit out of the other kids.

He had red hair.

He once killed a tiger.

He sang along to the radio in his truck.

His hugs.

A Steady Diet of H1N1

22 Mar

So I would love to tell the story about how I got the swine flu and laid on my back for six days with a fever over 100 degrees, puking my guts out and crying for mercy. I would like to discuss how I lost my voice and hearing and most of my vision and broke my computer and kept myself entertained entirely by the employment of wit and snark via social media accessed by cell phone. I’d love to carefully paraphrase for you the promises I made to God, should I survive. I wonder who’ll believe my story about the beautiful hallucination I experienced, wherein my bedroom became a boat on the sea, and everyone I ever loved, dead and alive, came to visit my bedside and tell me stories so I wouldn’t be frightened anymore. I would tell you about crawling across my kitchen floor because I was too dizzy from not eating and severe dehydration to stand up and walk to the bathroom to stick my face in a toilet- but that’d just be a total downer, huh?

Instead, I’ll just mention that after a week in bed I now have a lower, sexier, raspier voice and I am nine pounds skinnier- two outcomes of a near death experience (I exaggerate) that are not depressing at all. Like I love to say- we could all always be a little sexier.

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