I am seven years a widow and live by myself in a small apartment. I use a wheelchair to get around, but I wouldn't consider myself disabled.
I'm five years away from having bladder cancer resulting in a urostomy and I'm doing well. This cancer was a result of having radiation in 1995 because of uterine cancer. So have faith in yourself, a cancer diagnosis is not a death sentence. My first try at blogging was an attempt to help other people with my condition.
I am a mother of three married children, and a grandmother to nine gorgeous kids, featuring them often here. I enjoy exploring my feelings and like to try the challenges. I like humor, music, movies, games, anything British, and some sports.
I absolutely appreciate your reading and commenting on my blog. So happy to read all of your blogs and learn more about you. Please comment however you like, ask whatever, and I'll answer honestly.
Thanks for reading!
“I don’t know why you keep all these foolish things, they should go to the dump!” Martha was starting to tear up, realizing these surroundings would no longer be her future. The new apartment was impressive at first, everything fresh and clean, not needing constant repair as this home. She didn’t want to gainsay her son, but the new space seemed cold and vacuous.
Maybe it was time for a change. There had been so many in the last few years she wondered when her mind would catch up with them. Having to put beloved items in storage, away from her vision, was just another goodbye.
I am a very handsome, full breed, because that is indeed very important, Shih tzu, and that is the correct pronunciation. It has a silent “t” in it, and even though some humans say it wrong intentionally, it does in my opinion, demean our proud heritage.
However proud I may be, I have to admit the curse of being the runt of my litter (what an unfortunate word, really!). I was small and had a lazy eye, so when everyone else in my family were purchased, I was left to linger on smelly, soiled newspaper clippings in a glass box at the mall’s pet shop. Do you like being poked, stared at all day? Of course not, and none of us pet shop offerings do either!
A friendly, sweet girl came by the pet shop every day, lifting me carefully, scratching my ears, hugging me. I loved this girl, she was gentle and caring. One day I actually was thrilled to see her discussing me with the shop owner. Since I was growing and by his estimation not a perfect candidate for adoption, he gave her a discount. Such is life for those of us who have owners. Owners, not parents. We are not children. We may choose to act like a three year old at times, but that is usually put aside with love and training. Maybe we are vaguely similar to children, but I digress.
My life was perfect with this young woman until she decided to marry and have children. Those disgusting, two legged pull on your ears and tail, stepping on your toe, horrid little humans. I became the third, no, fifth wheel in her vehicle of life. I no longer received the attention I, of course, deserve and showed my discontent by nipping, no, not biting, a little nip! Well how would you react if someone was toddling around and landed on you, laughing? I had enough. I showed it in actions best not reported here.
As a result I ended up in a different home, known by my sweet girl human, as “mom and dad”. My new adventure started and my true personality respected. I was revered, loved and catered to. What a life!