June 20th, 2017
cyprinella: Greta looking at the camera with a very serious face (serious greta)

Greta close upHemangiosarcoma.

Hemangiosarcoma.

Hemangiosarcoma.

I keep repeating the word in my head. It’s especially bad when I walk Greta in the mornings. It’s kinda weird when it happens when I’m doing a power press in weights class. Luckily when my eyes water there it just looks like sweat.

It’s a particularly nasty canine cancer of the blood vessels that shows up in middle aged large breed dogs the most. Most people find out their dog has it because it’s popped like an aneurysm and their dog goes into shock or dies suddenly. I got “lucky” in that I found it while rubbing her belly and noticed the lump.

People who follow me on twitter were treated to a fine rant about how when I called up my vet to make an appointment to get it checked, I was subtly mocked for calling up to say I had found a mass in her abdomen. My husband (who ended up taking her to the first appointments because I had a major work project launching that week) said the vet was actually really impressed I had found it because most owners wouldn’t have.

I’m still debating if discovering it did her any damn good. There’s not really good treatment for this particular cancer. Most of the first page of google results are the 1-3 month survival period after discovery with organ involvement. Of course, most of these cases are from animals that had spleens involved and it’s discovered due to the extreme internal bleeding. We lucky in that there’s wasn’t any organ involvement initially and we caught it before severe bleeding happened. However, chances are very high it will recur in a very short time period. We could do chemo. We haven’t talked to the oncologists yet because we’re both kinda like, why? This isn’t a cancer where they fade away and in a lot of pain. It’s a lot like living with a known weak vein. It’s gonna kill her and soon but we don’t know when.

And of course the killer (ha) is that post surgery, she’s in great shape. We had a crap week where she was in recovery, a frustrating week where she felt a lot better but was still on restriction and then this week where she’s back to her old self. Is she putting weight on because the tumor was removed or because we’re spoiling her? No idea. Is acting slow because it’s hot and humid or is it because she’s got a slow bleed? No idea.

So we’re spoiling her rotten and she gets walks without Zille so she can sniff all the things to her heart’s content. And I keep living on knife’s edge wondering if this is going to be the day I come home and she’s gone or, worse, going poorly.

This fucking sucks.

June 17th, 2017
cos: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] cos at 10:13pm on 17/06/2017


Four photos from a very old folder. Based on the date, I'm fairly sure I took them on the flight home to Boston from attending Minicon in Minneapolis with [profile] silentmachine. But I can't find any record of that flight so I don't know what stopover city I might've gone through. Click on the image to see all four photos; do you recognize those bridges?

Edit: Commenters have identified the first bridge as the Throgs Neck Bridge and the second one as the Verazzano Narrows Bridge (both in NYC).
June 12th, 2017
tsarina: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] tsarina at 12:47pm on 12/06/2017
Sometimes, I don't know what to do about how I will never pass. It hurts. I still haven't figured out what to say when the grocery store cashier or a waiter calls me m'am. I want to say "Uh, no." But I also don't want to make some minimum wage employee feel shitty, or have some weird conversation. It feels awful and overwhelming to just assert my basic sense of self.

At my last job, I asserted my male identity from the start. Even being introduced as a guy, I still had coworkers who would routinely fuck up and call me she. It's one thing for people who have known me a long time struggling to switch pronouns. It's another when people who are explicitly introduced to me as a man still refer to me as a woman.

I'm envious and sad. It reminds me of years ago, watching an episode of Queer Eye with my roommate. The guy was a young trans guy, and they took him out to buy clothes and all the usual nice stuff they did on that show. I remember going back to my bedroom and sobbing as quietly as possible, because that would never be me. I was still in the closet. Even now, out and effectively transitioned with the legal change, the hormones, the chest surgery - I still don't feel like I belong. I can not shave for weeks, and still get called m'am. No one is going to whisk me away to give me some magical makeover that will change things. I will just always be this person I am. I've been out for seven years, and so very little seems to have changed despite the thousands of dollars I've spent on it.

Nothing helps. I feel weirdly disconnected. The narrative of knowing, deep and intrinsically, that I was a boy is an old fashioned one. It doesn't sell well in this era. I'm happy for people who have more complex identities to get their voice. I don't want to begrudge anyone that. Like pretty much everything else, I am forever late to the party. It might be easier if I could be the sort of person who felt inbetween genders, and not be bothered so much by what people say to me. I'm not, though.
June 9th, 2017
alixtii: Player from <i>Where on Earth Is Carmen Sandiego?</i> playing the game. (Default)
The first chapter of my sequel to Where the Heart IS!

Fandom: Folgers Holiday Commercial
Relationships: Luke Matthews/Lexie Matthews, Luke Matthews/Lexie Matthews/Gwen Matthews
Timeline: April 2015, about five years after Where the Heart Is.
Summary: Luke and Lexie return home for the funeral of their paternal grandmother. Some things are different than when they left.

( Where They Have to Take You In )

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