You can only imagine how much I feared for my four year old son when he was diagnosed diabetic. He was rushed to the emergency room by ambulance only eight months after we first found out; a serious low blood sugar reaction rendered him unconscious. As knowledgeable as I was, I fell apart, unable to find the blood testing monitor, the Glucagon, or my brain. Dan was babbling on the phone with the 911 operator, unable to remember our address. It would have been funny if our five year old son's life wasn't at stake.

Brad is 23 now, very much in control of his own diabetic health. He's joined a gym, is watching his food intake carefully and yells at me when I bring bad food into the house--this from the child who lived to eat as much of them as he could get away with, both pre and post diabetes.

Diabetes is very tricky. Exercise can lower blood sugars drastically, and continues to do so long after you have exercised. So with Brad not only going to the gym, but frequently playing long, exhausting games of basketball with his friends, his blood sugars have been sinking to dangerously low levels. This worries me. Granted, I have backed out of dealing with his diabetes for the most part, but old habits die hard; on weekends, when he tends to sleep late, I test his blood sugar while he sleeps. I've found his readings as low as 48 on a few occasions, which is excessively low. Then Mom springs into action, bringing up orange juice and peanut butter crackers to the rescue.

I know Brad doesn't like my worrywart tendencies, but when I watched him go into convulsions, then lapse into unconsciousness 18 years ago, I vowed that would never happen again on MY watch. It's so hard--he still lives under our roof, and last night, knowing he was out playing basketball, after going to the gym, I worried it was going to be too much. I think uneasily of the kids who go out to play baseball or football with their parents in the stands, who suddenly fall down and die after getting hit with a ball in the chest or for no apparent reason at all. Brad COULD have such a severe insulin reaction, he might die in his sleep. I realize that's a fearful mother's conjuring, but it's a real enough possibility that I feel I must do everything I can to forestall it.

And so I do.

Love, Robin (who is a mother first, everything else second)

Saturday:

Dropped Bugsy off at Purrrrfect Paws at 8 AM for his grooming. When I lifted him into Dan's backseat and asked him to move over, he attacked and bit my tit. That hurt!

Off to Petco to purchase an expensive ($9 per bottle) shampoo the groomer recommended for the rash running along Snaps' spine.

Had breakfast at the buffet in Levittown. Ate mostly OK, just a couple of semi-bad items. Buffets are hard. There are too many choices, most of them evil!

Dan and I went to the gym for a lengthy workout. The pool was delightful, the jacuzzi even better. I do love toning up my body and making it healthier. I've never been vain, but if my body looks more svelte to those who have to view me, so much the better, right?

To Wal-Mart to buy a few things for the house, returned to the groomer's about 12:30 to pick up Bugsy, who looked mighty handsome with his new cut and "Dozy Dog" bandana. The cost: $50, including tip. What I usually pay for a haircut: $5.25, plus tip.

It poured as we were driving home, one of several sudden downpours from blackened skies that plagued us all weekend. Sunday was mostly shower-free, but Saturday had to be a pain in the ass for those holding block parties or garage sales, with the perpetually-gray skies and abrupt monsoons.

I took a nap when we arrived home (I napped both days, no apologies!)

at 3 PM, I drove to my appointment at Theresa's to use up the last of the certificates we'd won months ago at the temple auction--manicure, pedicure and haircut with blowdry. The owner herself cut my hair, deftly and beautifully, blowing it into poofy prettyness. I thought I looked almost actress-like! (Shirley Maclaine, anyone?)

I soaked my feet in a swirling red whirlpool for quite a while, reading a magazine, then a sweetheart named Jean thoroughly massaged, exfoliated, de-callused, de-cuticled and triple-polished my feet and toes. She had to be about 75 years old, her birthday the following day. She told me about her two dead husbands, one dead boyfriend, three kids and grandkids. She seemed lonely when she said most guys she meets can get much younger women than her. Not with as much character, I thought, looking at her lined, workworn but still lovely face. She polished my nails, too, in the same nondescript color I'd chosen for my toenails. I gave her a $10 tip, not only because she worked on me for so long, but also because I felt sorry for her. I gave the shop's owner a $5 tip for my haircut. I was there for well over three hours, but it was really fun!

Dan and I ate dinner at Cafe Uno. I had chicken parm, my usual, and I feel it was a full, busy and enjoyable day all around.

Sunday:

Dan, Mike and I went to see PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: DEAD MAN'S CHEST. Dan and I hadn't seen the first part, but it was a spirited, high-action, heavy-on-the special effects flick. I nearly fell asleep a couple of times, rare for me, so perhaps it wasn't as engrossing as I thought, but Dan actually DID fall asleep more than once, mainly because he had low blood sugar. Mike got him a small soda to bring his glucose back up.

Another mid-afternoon nap for me!

We took Brad and Ali out to dinner at Corner Galley. Mike joined us. We had a great time, although Dan got stuck with a pretty big bill for four people. Now that Brad sees how much is taken from his paycheck for taxes and such, I suspect he's going to leech on for eat-out meals as often as possible. To his credit, he did bring home Italian ices for Dan and me last night, which he didn't have to do. Sugar-free chocolate mousse for me--yum!

The only bad thing about weekends is that work weeks are two and a half times longer!

I'm off to the gym tonight for a short workout. Nancy and I did manage to take a walk this morning. The humidity that has plagued us for so long is GONE, at long last, and I pray it will stay gone!

We washed Snaps with that spray on shampoo stuff. I don't see much difference in his rash, but maybe it will take a few days.

Dan went for a sonogram this morning. The cyst on his liver is still there, and Dr. Jacob wants him to go for an MRI. I hope he has better luck doing it than I did. I couldn't take being inside that thing even with 10 milligrams of valium inside me!

Later, dudes. It's almost time to leave. Hurray!

Love, Robin

He just missed his mommy, that's all!

Snaps and Bugsy began barking as soon as they heard my car pull up in front of the house. Those two can actually hear the difference in car engines, I swear! They were going wild behind the screen door, sparking me to grab my suitcase and pocketbook from my car and run up the driveway and front steps to get to them as fast as I could. Being the natural klutz I am, I stumbled and fell, striking my knee against the concrete step. I didn't pay the pain much mind; I pulled the door open and descended upon my joyously barking fur-children.

The first thing I did was demand, "Who wants to go for a walkie??" Barking, they followed me eagerly out the back door. Bugsy didn't hesitate in dashing down the steps to pee gushingly into the dry dirt below. I was astounded to see how many large branches had fallen off the trees in my backyard during the storm; the ground was littered with them. In certain areas, entire trees fell down, so it must have been a bad one.

Just to make sure both dogs were "empty", I leashed them up (no problem at all!), walked them around the yard and down near the folks behind us. Bugsy took a dump directly underneath and INTO a low-to-the-ground plant in the corner of my neighbor's yard. It was impossible to scoop it up, and I was forced to leave most of it behind there. I felt bad, but there was little else for me to do. I was SO grateful Bugsy seemed like his old self again, and even Dan said he was totally different from the nasty pooch he'd been earlier in the day when neither he nor Brad was able to get him to go downstairs on the deck or hook him up to the leash. Then again, that's not good--Bugsy has to behave with Brad when Dan and I go away, and with Dan and Brad when I need to go somewhere!

How did we end up with this odd, moody little dog?

Love, Robin

I left Chez Buszka this morning and all was well. The doggy furkids gathered to say goodbye and I left them with half a large bone each. I gave Mr. Phil a few tasty cat treats on the floor, saw the heavy black cat disappear upstairs and gave the small, pretty striped one a cat treat on the table. As I slid into my car in the garage, I heard the phone ringing inside the house, but knew I wouldn't get back inside in time to answer. I figured it was Dan, and resolved to call him as soon as I got to work. Then I heard my cell phone ringing persistently in my pocketbook, but was unable to fish through all the crap in time to grab it before the ringing stopped.

Assuming I was needed, I immediately called Dan back. He reported that he was unable to get Bugsy to either go downstairs in the backyard to do his business or get him hooked onto the leash to take him for a walk; he kept growling. We had wild thunderstorms last night (I apparently slept through them), and Dan figured Bugsy was all messed up as a result. I spoke to Brad a short time ago, and he experienced similar problems with a recalcitrant, angry Bugsy. I'm afraid I'm going to return home to find a lot of piss and poop to clean up. Was it the storm--or does my little blind doggy miss his mommy? Or has his deranged mind finally gone bye-bye for good? I guess I'll find out when I return home this afternoon, and I've got to be honest--that's the most pressing problem on my mind right now.

However, there's something else--a desperate plea on Craigslist. I'm going to post this in its entirety. There's a gorgeous picture of the dog in the listing, too. If you live on or near Long Island and know of someone who might be able to adopt this deserving dog for this deserving woman--soldier!--please step up and help:

__________________________________________________________________

Please contact companionpets@optonline.net if you can help this sweet dog.

Death is not the only unfortunate circumstance that turns a beloved companion into an orphan. A friend of a friend is about to be called to active duty. She will be gone for three years, and desperately needs a safe, loving environment for her dog, Carter. If she cannot place Carter before July 22nd, her only recourse is to bring him to a municipal shelter – and the odds are great that he will not survive.

Carter’s guardian originally rescued him from a town shelter where he was to be euthanized. He is a loving, devoted friend who has grown quite accustomed to “the good life,” a life that far too many companion animals never will know. Now, at the age of six years old, this Yellow Lab mix boy may find himself back in a shelter once again. Only this time, he is much older, and about one year ago, he had a seizure. Although his medication has prevented any further seizures, high stress situations can bring them on. A municipal shelter simply is no place for this poor dog.

His guardian, has no options. She cannot refuse her assignment, as you can well imagine. She is heartbroken over having to leave Carter behind. At the very least, we would like to put her mind at ease in the knowledge that Carter will be loved and well cared for.

Carter is in reasonably good health. His medication has prevented the recurrence of any other seizures. He is up-to-date on all of his shots/medical, heartworm negative and on HW prevention, housetrained, and he gets along with some other dogs. Carter likes to be the boss among his canine friends – so a situation with other dogs who are happy to be bossed around would be ideal.

Carter also is extremely affectionate with people. He has never been around cats or children, for that matter. He loves the outdoors, his toys, treats (of course), and the attention of his human friends.

Please help with this. His guardian is down to the wire, in terms of time. I don’t want his guardian to leave for active duty with a broken heart. She has an obligation to serve, and sadly, that obligation is forcing her to give up her very best friend.

Please contact companionpets@optonline.net if you can help this sweet dog.

___________________________________________________________________

Love, Robin

WEATHER ALERT: It's been very, very hot, with heat indexes near 100. I've been keeping all the A/C's and fans on high at Nancy and Chris' house 24/7 (per their orders), but there's no A/C in the bedroom where I sleep, so the temp in there is dicey at best, and, of course, the peri-menopause is wreaking havoc on me, too, joy of joys. Even as I sit here in my heavily air conditioned office, I'm perspiring. When you go outside, it feels like someone's tossed a wet wool blanket over your head. Breathing is difficult, and sitting in my car without air conditioning makes me feel as if my skin is about to be flayed right off my body.

I'm a day late, I know. I was going to write yesterday, but after a poor night's sleep at Nancy's, I was beat, too tired to write a word. I've been doing my best to take care of the dogs and cats at Chez Buszka, but my main concern, aside from their food and water, has just been that all of them are safely in the house when I go to sleep. Head count: 5. Last night, I seemed to be missing one cat, and couldn't settle down until I located the missing kitty.

I took a bath last night and washed my hair. Nancy called while I was running the water, but kept the conversation short when I told her I was about to step into the shower. I ate a couple of slices of Chris' banana nut cake when I got home, and had two eggs and vanilla ice cream for dinner. I really wasn't up for cooking much of anything, so I just microwaved the two brown eggs with a little pepper and salt. Tasted pretty good!

I napped when I got home yesterday, refusing Dan's offer to meet at our gym. I HAD gone Friday, Saturday and Sunday, after all!

Dan had the day off and kept in constant touch with me. Dr. Jacob sent him for blood work (she thinks his liver cyst might have returned) and will most likely be sending him for a sonogram, too. After that, he saw Durant, who gave him 3 cortisone injections in his shoulder, instantly banishing the agony he's experienced for months. Jacob also gave Dan the paperwork he needs for obtaining a temporary handicapped parking permit, so he went to a DMV in Uniondale, the only office where he could get it. He should have it in a few days. She told him she doesn't want him taking advantage of the permit, but truthfully, the guy's been limping from diabetic neuropathy in his feet, and really is entitled to the parking privilege.

I was just about to leave for work from Chez Buszka this morning at 6 AM when the phone rang. It was Dan. His mother had really upset him after he made the mistake of telling her everything the doctor had told him. She spoke to three doctors of her acquaintance and she's sure it's his gall bladder, not his liver, and he should have demanded a permanent parking permit, etc., etc., etc. She drove him crazy. Poor Dan. You give Doris enough information, she'll make your life hell. After all, what else does she have to do, besides mulling over everything you tell her, then consulting doctors to undermine and take apart everything you've been told? Perhaps, when Dan goes for his scan, Jacob can have the gall bladder checked, too. Dan had this same pain occur two years ago, and if it was the gall bladder, surely it would have acted up again before this? I don't know.

We're supposed to have gigantic thunderstorms this evening, cutting into the humidity and dropping these 100 degree temps plaguing us for the past two days. GOOD! I won't be home to comfort Bugsy tonight, but Dan and Brad will be there for him.

Speaking of Bugsy, there was an upsetting incident this weekend. He was lying on the floor. I petted his head, murmuring love words to him. Suddenly, he snarled, growled and attacked me, nearly biting my knee. I backed away, yelled, "Get under the table! You're bad! Bad dog! Bad, bad, Bugsy!" I went to the bathroom to pee, and, sitting there on the bowl, began to cry. We've owned this dog for more than a year and a half, petted, loved him, fed him, given him treats--yet he still attacks and bites us? Has the nerve to be in bad moods? Still stalks Dan? Nips Brad when he leaves the house?

Perhaps we've made a mistake, I sobbed to myself. Perhaps we should just give up and give him back to Last Hope Animal Rescue. Maybe he's incorrigible, impossible, unsalvageable. I walked down the hall, still crying. Brad, appeared behind me, dropped his hands to my shoulders and squeezed comfortingly. Dan hugged me.

"He's no good," I mumbled. "He'll never change."

Brad said, "We don't know what he's been through," he reminded me. "He's like a Vietnam vet having flashbacks of war, and sometimes we do things that bring back bad memories. It's not our fault, it's not his fault."

"You know you love him," Dan said. "We all love him."

"WHY do we love him?" I asked, still crying. "He's a menace to all of us!"

"But he's also very affectionate sometimes," Dan reminded me. "He tells us when he wants to be petted. You just petted him. He didn't ask for pets."

"He's not supposed to dictate to US what happens in our own house!" I wailed. "He's the dog. We're the masters!"

That's how it's supposed to be, I know. But with a dog like Bugsy, rules go out the window. He's a little dictator--but somehow, we do love him.

Tonight is two-fer Tuesday at Sidekicks. Dan and Brad are going without me, since I'm still pet-sitting. That's OK. I'm going to the gym, then back to my 5 temporary furkids. I might just have an ice cream sundae for dinner, too! There's an ice cream place on the corner where I turn to go to Nancy's house, and I've been thinking it would be fun to see what they have there.

Love, Robin