So last night I used my machine regardless of what my heart might think. I had to break the cycle somehow and that meant someone/thing had to suffer. Apparently I'm still ticking this morning though a few times last night my heart beat pounding in my ears woke me up. Now assuming the damn drug doesn't start making my lungs bleed again I'll keep this up once a day until my o2 arrives. Not that we're expecting the o2 to be some wonder cure but it'll allow my pooooorrrrrrr ol' ticker a chance to rest for at least 8 hours a day.
Everyone needs a break right. Even overworked under used thumpers.

The puppy went for her almost last shot. She goes back again on Tuesday for the last last one. I think they screwed up, and when I pointed it out when I went to pay they went Opps.... oh yeah, we always split up the last shots from the rabies, yeah that's right, that's what we always do. Sure. I haven't had 7 dogs have their puppy series done there or anything. And not one, ever, did I have their last appointment for shots split up. Ehh whatever, ya know. It's not that big of a deal, just don't bullshit me. I have an ex-client with that problem. I find it hard to look them in the eye.

I got a bottle of Selenium today. Guess what I'm doing tomorrow? Shots and hooves. Go me! I'm hoping and praying I'll feel up to it because not only must the shots be given, I know those girls hooves are in sad shape. (by sad shape I mean slightly overgrown, not walking around on their knees. they were trimmed 8 weeks ago) And since I tend to rag on other people for their poor hoof tending skills, I try to at least keep mine somewhat up. Pot calling the kettle black and all that.

Looks like my first babies are due on V-day. It sucks because I just don't care. I have two maybe three shows I'm going to, I'm not milk testing this year, I'm not appraising, and I'm not even planning to milk any of the does. Luckily my herd is Neg. I found and have quarantined the one problem doe and she'll be leaving soon after kidding. I will have that/those doe kids to raise, unless she has bucks again, then she'll stay long enough to raise them, then they can all leave. Mind you all this is subject to change. Well, except the showing part. The only way that will change is if I'm hauling the kids around with their replacement does. I want them both to campaign the does at as many shows as possible. I can stick two kids (human and goat) in my SUV though and go to shows without the hassle of taking all my crap/goats/trailer/truck/gear.

My mind is tired. Tired of making anything make since. That's kinda what happens when the o2 is low alot of the time. Everything gets a little foggy. Words are blurry and fuck man don't expect me to remember jack shit. Oh and I also feel a little numb around the edges from time to time. Like my jaw line or my knees or sometimes my rib cage. Literally around the edges.

Ya'll be really sick of hearing me say this shit until this gets sorted out. It's a total pain in the ass and frankly it's constant.

So here's the vicious circle as it stands right now.
My heart rate is sky high. Pulse rate of 110, resting. (normal is in the 70's for reference)
My heart rate is so high because my heart is pumping blood REALLY fast to try to get O2 around my body.
My o2 is low because my lungs are clogged with a bunch of thick goop thanks to my piss poor genetics.
The medicine to clear my lungs makes my heart rate skyrocket.

I'm completely dreading kidding season.
Tonight I'm taking the meds. If my heart explodes at least I wouldn't have drowned.
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Have I ever mentioned that my life long fear is flying. Have I mentioned why? Because since I was a really small kid I've had one reoccurring nightmare. I'm in a plane that crashes over the ocean and I drowned. I used to think this was based from the fact I can't swim very well.
I'm beginning to think maybe it's a glimpse into my death. It's likely I'll die from congestive heart failure. I'll drowned in retained fluid filling my lungs. Flying=medicated.

Ehh who knows. Just a thought. You're welcome.
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This in itself has nothing to do with the really odd dreams I've been having lately.
Like last nights dream where there were goats everywhere. I was taking care of someone elses dairy herd. Yet some kids (K and M P to be exact) where in a hay loft with me and some girl named Sara (who looked like A M). Sara knocked a bale of hay out of the loft onto a goat hitting it on the front end. "Breaking" the goat. It was paralyzed....nerve damaged..... broken neck. Anyhow I was standing over the goat holding it up (like I can pick up a full grown goat like that)... and my phone rang. Thank god.

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Ps. Mandy.... A N was down the street from A M visiting with "he who lives there" this week. A M says she didn't think she went in but they were out in front talking for quite a while. Man i hope she isn't doing that again.

OK to all my fellow blogging friends. STOP IT. just STOP. I can't handle all the words. Too many words. I just had to stop reading my bloglines because the damn post were running together in my head. Britt is 40? I thought she had a birthday last week, no wait she's co hosting a live chat with poppy, no that's not right. SHIT.

Needless to say, for all your sakes I just shut the damn thing off. I'm not going to get it right anyway.

There isn't a part of me that doesn't ache today. Yesterday's test was long. I'm not normally such a freakin' puss about it either, but then my day time O2 levels are usually higher than they have been. On that note I did get the order for over night O2. Now we just have to work out who pays how much for that machine. Luckily we have insurance, but we have this super odd prescription part where we have to pay up front for it then they reimburse us. Only this isn't a prescription even though they write a prescription for you to get it? Doe anyone else see the potential for this to be a clusterfuck?

Our ever lovely KG was talking about non-traditional dog toys today (yesterday maybe?), I read it today so we're saying today, alright. No arguing with the cranky sore whiner. Anyhow. It made me laugh. Last night I was playing with my poor poor puppy who had to spend ALL day with daddy, which we know is never as good as being with mommy, and she starts whining to get in her dog crate. Trust me it wasn't 'cuz she love to be in there either. Half the time she uses it as a private toilet with access to toys and bedding. So I'm figuring she can see her cat toy that's in there and wants it. I pop open the door and she barrels right past the cat to the dish in the back. Out she comes hauling her plastic food dish and proceeds to run it all over the bed. I snagged it back just before she started to eat it. As I tossed it in the crate and slammed the door I just about took off her nose she was that close behind me trying to get it back. She promptly sat down in front of the door, looked up at me over back (so her nose was straight up in the air) rolled her eyes at me and then, looking at the crate, barked and growled.
Holy brattiness. Last night is the first time she acted like a "puppy". Like you imagine a puppy would when you bring them home. She was happy and hyper and wanted to play play play... with anything. This is a huge step up from the puppy I brought home who just wanted to sleep sleep sleep. In fact we used to have to wake her up to feed her. A dog you have to wake up to feed.... that's not right man.

In other news, G is going back to the doctors today. I think they should just furnish one of those rooms in the back with a decent set of bunk beds and we'll move him in. Maybe he can share the room with Mandy's boy, who can't seem to stay out of the poison oak to save his soul. Today's ailment started yesterday in the form of a killer headache. Nothing would touch it yesterday he had it all day and night. Light and sound sensitive, behind the nose, eyes, forehead, and top of his skull is painful to the touch and throbs. This am I gave his some sinus headache stuff to see if that helped at all. No dice. He said it felt a little better, as he told me, from the bathroom, to please please stop pounding on whatever it was I was pounding on in my room... I was typing.
Maybe this will link into whatever is still causing the vomiting. Because the answer of "suck it up" or we'll have to give you these heavy narcotics just isn't the warning you want issued to your 12 year old.
Depending on what the DR says today, I may likely be calling about homeschooling tomorrow. I'd look into an ISP but his freaking teachers can't get their shit together to send his homework home when he's absent and I call for it.

Ahh, another day. Now I'm going to see about dragging my ass out of this chair and getting lunch. If I can croak out an order. Yeah, shut up. My voice is gone on top of it all, which is why I said I'd make those calls...tomorrow.