In loving memory...

My dear sweet Ellie.

I loved you more then words could ever express.
I really hope you knew that.

I'm so sorry.

When it rains...

...it pours.

I've been trying to look on the bright side of things for a while. It's not working. My whole existence seems to be on the dark & stormy side lately.

The recap:
I broke out in an allergic reaction Thursday evening. Went to an urgent care where they gave me prednisone and told me to take some Zyrtec.
Cleared up overnight. Broke out again the next evening. Went back to urgent care where they gave me an IV solution of Benedryl, Pepcid and something else. They also told me to up my dose of Prednisone.
Saturday morning, my hands swell and become painful. Husband calls urgent care, again, where they inform him they've done all they can and now I'll have to go to the ER. The hives started breaking out again that evening so we proceed to ER. At the ER they give me an injection of Benedryl, Xantec and a different prescription for Prednisone. I have to take 2 Benedryl every 6 hours and Xantec twice a day. They tell me to see an allergist.

Husband tries to call several allergist today. He gets me an appointment for next Monday and says I have to stop Benedryl 4 days prior to the visit. I ask him about the other meds. He didn't think to ask. I call back. They inform me I have to finish my Prednisone before they can see me. That pushes my visit back to the 14th. I ask what I'm supposed to do if I break out again between the time I'm off the meds and when I go in... they say sorry...

Add to that:
One of my dogs is having issues getting around...
Husband's car died, it needs a new fuel pump which will cost $900.
We have to pay taxes which are around $1,000.

I just want to crawl in bed...

Goddammit.

(a blog in which Karen is pissed and drops the f-bomb... a lot)

Fuck you asshole dog who got into my yard and thought my goat looked like a good snack.
Fuck you piece of shit owner who doesn't show up until the second round of my screaming, "somebody help me, it's killing my goat."
Fuck you for not saying you're sorry.
Fuck you for not asking if my goat and I are ok.
Fuck you for trying to take the extension cord I had wrapped around your psychotic dog's neck so it wouldn't kill my goat.
Just fuck you.

I was home alone. I hear a noise in my backyard. It sounds like a baby screaming. I peek out the sliding glass door. I see some white pitbull in my back yard trying to kill my goat. I rip off my socks (I had no shoes on to begin with) and begin running full speed into my backyard. I pick up a branch, I break it over the dogs back and it won't let go. I kick the dog repeatedly while screaming at the top of my lungs. I finally grab the dog by the collar and yank the bastard off. I drag it back up the house, attempt to tie it up with an extension cord, call Husband sobbing telling him to get home because some half crazed pit bull is trying to kill the goat. Dog gets loose. I chase after it screaming for someone to help me. I get my hands on the dog again, practically strangling it with its collar. Owner shows up with 2 small children. Says his dog jumped from his truck. I throw the dog over the fence. I'm halfway back up the yard when the fucking dog gets back in the yard and the owner is just standing there yelling at him. I yank the dog off again, throw it over the fence again. 2 seconds later it's trying to get in my yard. Eventually I guess the guy gets the clue because I hear a truck roar off in the distance. By the time Husband got home I was in the bathtub sobbing.

Worst. Fucking. Day. Ever.

(p.s. my goat is ok for the time being. His ear is more or less ripped in half and he has some other injuries. We called a vet who does livestock and he said we could try to treat it with peroxide. Hopefully he's ok. I might try to get some antibiotics from work tomorrow. I don't know. Fingers crossed regardless)