Our Dear Miko

Poor Miko. He just turned 11 yrs old, and he doesn't even know he's an old man. Unfortunately, his body does. Just this past week I noticed that he was having trouble defecating again, and his belly seemed very hard. He didn't complain when I touched it, he just seems uncomfortable. So, I called Dr Don again and yesterday afternoon Miko and I went for a visit to see what's the problem. I was hoping that he had eaten something that got stuck and that surgery would quickly help him. No, of course not.

Miko has a very huge, very fast growing tumor in his belly. From the x-rays it appears to have invaded almost his entire abdominal cavity. Dr Don cannot tell if his intestines are just being pushed out of the way, or if they are encased by the tumor and the tumor is constricting them. Dr Don did some blood work, too, so we should have those results back this afternoon. Miko appears to be anemic, and Dr Don thinks the tumor is stealing all of his blood. At this point it looks like very costly surgery is our only option to keep Miko alive. And, that will probably have to be done several hours away at TX A&M. There is no guarantee that he would survive the surgery, either. It seems our dear sweet Miko only has a couple of weeks left to live. Dr Don said he worries that this tumor may rupture and Miko will bleed internally.

Six weeks ago, Miko had abdominal x-rays done for a completely unrelated reason, and there is no evidence of a tumor in those x-rays. Today, it's huge. We just sent our beloved Nala Bear (shown with Miko in the picture above) to the Rainbow Bridge six months ago. Bill always said that Miko wouldn't live much longer than Nala. They'd been best buddies for 10.5 yrs. I had the sad task of calling Bill yesterday afternoon to tell him his dog was very ill, then I got to go home and explain it all again to Y. I asked Y if he knew what a tumor is? No. Do you know what cancer is? Yes.

"Miko has cancer?"

"Yes, he does."

"Miko is dead?"

"No, Miko is downstairs."

"Oh, okay."

I then told Y that we would wait to see what his test results said, and we would make a decision about Miko at that time. Bill and I had wondered aloud whether the doctors could just go in and snip away the blood vessels feeding the tumor and let it die of starvation. Who knows. I'm sure that would be almost as expensive as removal.

We'll be taking Miko to the dog park this weekend as soon as it stops raining. He deserves at least one more chance to greet all the dogs, and then make his round of the humans begging each and everyone of them to pet him forever.

Natalie

TX

Doing Jobs

Yarek seems to think that if he doesn't do his jobs for the week, it's because I didn't remind him to do his jobs! Arghhh! I told him he was old enough to know when his jobs needed to be done, like noticing that the food/water bowls needed refills or the trash was full or that his room/bathroom were pigsties and needed to be cleaned. Plus, I told him on Thursday that he needed to clean his room before setting up his new computer (yes I bought him a new computer, the other one was seriously broke - some problem with Windows); I told him again on Friday and Saturday; Sunday I gave him a trash bag and told him to clean his room again; this afternoon I gave him an empty clothes bin and told him to put all his dirty clothes in it to be washed (he doesn't have any dirty clothes - those are all clean ones on his floor; when I asked if he wanted me to perform the sniff test, his answer was an emphatic, "No!"). Each time his answer was, "Later, Mama." Well, now it's time to get paid and he hasn't done any of his jobs since he got the new computer. Not once has he walked the dogs in five days and it shows - they're all acting up now. He did fill their food bowls up once, but not the water bowl. And he told me he can't take the trash up to the curb tonight because it's raining. OMG! He might get wet! When I mentioned that he could use an umbrella, he said, "Oh, yeah. Tomorrow I take them, Mama."

This afternoon, when riding to his acrobatics class, Y picked up my wallet and began to look through it to see if there was any cash in there. He found a twenty, and told me that it was his twenty because it was Monday and he should get paid for his jobs today. We then had a heated discussion about him not doing his jobs, and I also told him that it was extremely rude of him to root through my wallet to count my cash. I told him that whatever cash or anything else that was in my wallet was not of any concern to him, and that I really did not like him looking through it (he has done this off and on for weeks). I told him that he did not deserve to get paid this week because he had not done his jobs, and so Y said, "Is okay. Is my twenty because I you son. Is surprise!" I informed him that it was not his twenty, and he needed to put it back. I told him, "If I give you money because it is a surprise and you are my son, I have to give it to you. You cannot just take money out of my wallet. That is called stealing. Just because I am right next to you does not make it okay."

Y has done this a few times before (rifled through my wallet and took money out because "I you son."), but with Bill gone from the house, no overtime in a few weeks and having to pay a babysitter $125/week to watch him, money is as tight as ever. Y said he would not eat at school and he would not eat at home to save money. I told him that was not the solution to the problem. I will pay you your money every week IF you do your jobs, but if you don't do them, you won't get paid. Period. When we pulled into the driveway, Y asked me why I was getting angry, which was getting him angry (huge milestone - he noticed that my mood affects his mood; maybe he'll soon notice that his mood affects my mood). I told him that it was okay to get frustrated and angry every once in a while, as long as you don't make it a daily habit like Bill was doing. Y said he didn't want to argue any more because his voice hurt. I told him it was probably because he spent 10 hours on his computer yesterday (he smiled at that one); then I asked him if his throat hurt, he said yes. Mine does, too. Really hope we're not coming down with swine flu. I gave him a big hug when we walked in the door (he kept trying to back away because he thought I was going to tickle him), and told him that I still loved him, whether he did his jobs or not - but you're not getting paid till they're all done!

Another thought - just last week, Y told me how much nicer it was here at home without Bill. No more yelling everyday. Y said he feels safe here now. He asked how much longer would Bill be gone, I told him at least another month, maybe more. Y told me he does not want Bill to come back at all. I don't blame him. The last couple of times Bill has come back with Y here, Bill hasn't been able to go ten minutes without criticizing him for something or getting all huffy and puffy and saying that something is "his" and Y can't touch it or he'll break it.

[Post edited by blog owner.]

So far, of the three things I asked Bill to do (anger management; parenting class; individual therapy), all he has done in 4 weeks is go to anger management classes. That's a start, but he should've at least called the employee assistance number I gave him several times and started his therapy by now. He told me just last weekend that he didn't have the money for that right now. I reminded him that the first 8 sessions are free, and it's a $20 copay after that. Bill also hasn't been working this past week because he had to take a drug test and he forgot to list one of his new medications on the form. Now he needs a note from the doctor stating that he has been prescribed that medication and how much, etc. Bill told me about that 10 days ago when it first happened. I told him I would not call for him, I'm way too busy and it's not my problem anymore (trying to wean myself off the co-dependency bit). He said he did not have the doctor's number - I told him it's on his prescription bottles, and I gave him the number again (I know it by heart, since I'm the only one who ever uses it!). "Oh, so I guess you haven't picked up that letter for me yet?," is what Bill said last Saturday. He's 53 and he still can't take care of himself, it seems. I told him I did not have any more money to give him, and no I would not be responsible for his debts while he lived apart from me. I have paid way too many of his debts during our marriage, including over $25k of back owed child support for his two older boys.

My lawyer says they'll probably be ready to file paperwork sometime this week. Maybe then Bill will realize I'm serious about this - clean up your act, or pack it up and take it somewhere else. Apparently having him move out hasn't quite given him the clue, yet.

My son has had too much trauma in his 14 yrs for me to condone any more trauma that I can prevent. Y has really begun to open up now, too, but never when Bill is around; and not usually for a day or two after he's showed up and gone again. I now know that Y burned his hand when he was about 4 yrs old living with his BM Olga and stepdad Dima. He said he was hungry so he tried to cook something to eat and the pot was left on the burner too long and it became red hot. He tried to take the pot off the stove and it stuck to his hand and the gas flames came up and burned his hand. "I cried big time, Mama." Of course you did, sweetie! Horrible to believe that a 4 yr old would be left alone to feed himself, but I know it happens. He also told me that he didn't get to eat every day either; not with his BM or later when he moved in with his BF Misha. He said he moved in with his BF sometime after he left the hospital (I have to say, they did an awesome job of skin grafting - he has 100% movement in that hand), but he doesn't remember if it was right away or a year or two later. He told me that Dima used to yell at him all the time just like Bill. He didn't like Dima very much, either. I asked him to tell me how old his parents are, and he said his BF is 35 and he didn't remember how old his BM is right now. Y also said that his BF would leave the apartment and tell him to stay inside while he was gone. He said he was about 8 yrs old at that time. Y grinned as he told me how he waited for his BF to get outside and away from the building, then he would sneak outside and play sticks with his friends. Papa Misha caught him, and beat him with that stick, he said. I asked if he stayed in the apartment like his BF told him to do after that. "No, I go out and play my friends," he said rather sheepishly. Y told me that he was sent to the internat after his father got sent to prison, again.

Can't wait for more tidbits to come out, I'll take the good and the bad.

Natalie

TX