So, this week is...this week, with links.

Friday of last week, barn time.  I gave the pony a manly war braid thing to get his mane pulled up off his neck because it's so long and thick.

Saturday, found out there's a lady who boards her horses at the small horse farm around the corner.  She does Very Reasonably Priced Lessons, as in VERY reasonably priced.  Score!

Sunday, laundry.

Monday, picked up trash along the fence line at the small horse farm around the corner and spoke with the lady who does reasonably priced lessons and handed out carrot bites.  Score!  

Tuesday, went to small show barn and had some social time with some of the show horses.  With the heat being as bad as it is, grooming is more of a challenge than when it's cooler, so I only managed to get one horse groomed well before I needed to leave to run some errands and pick up Football Monkey.  Still a score.

Today, well, what can I say about today?  It was strange.  Some of the people I know online have had metsters they knew who died earlier this week.  It fucking sucks.  I fucking hate it for them.  This disease fucking wrecks lives.  I also had to ponder an NCBI release of information regarding HER2+ and HER2- cancers.  Evidently, there isn't long term tracking done, so the statistics are fucked regarding how those like me are actually doing long term.  I also found out that regarding mets, what is of most concern for me is the potential of mets to my liver and brain for twelve fucking years.  Twelve.  And yes, that's going according to the statistics presented.  (Where people pull the "magic" five years out of their asses as a "safety" zone regarding HER2 cancers, I have no fucking clue, but it pisses me off.  I want to print this shit out and put it under my onc's nose and tell him I'm not stupid and that I don't appreciate not being told about this stuff.  To be fair, he's not the one who was such a dill hole to me when I did chemo, but at the same time, I'll never really trust him because he's a doctor and he probably is under the grossly mistaken impression/opinion that I was already "informed" about this stuff when I was in chemo, which I was not.)

This is a lovely post about the Mythical Cancer Warrior.  The phrase, "Mythical Cancer Warrior" reminds me of the typical over done trope (perspective) about cancer  by the non-cancer civilians.  I greatly appreciated reading this post and wanted to share it here, since my readership seems to have picked up.

I Can Pretend by the Cancer Curmudgeon and the reality of this shit.  She so articulately states what so many of us are thinking/encountering at any give time when dealing with the shit storm that cancer is.

And here's how a Molecular Biologist explains how THC kills cancer.  Gosh, you'd think using something like that to cure cancer without fucking up people's lives and wrecking their health would be, oh, I don't know, criminal, or something.  JS

In spite of the heat, today definitely falls into the category of amazing barn time.  While I managed to groom only one horse, I had the amazing experience of being on the receiving end of not one, but two hugs from two different horses.  If any of you readers are familiar with the body language of horses, you'll know that their noses are super personal space for them.  They explore with their noses.  I eat peppermints like a fiend anytime I'm around horses and once they are interested in me, I'll exhale slowly from my mouth and let them smell the peppermint.  (Yes, horses like peppermints.  I have yet to have this fail me.)

My action is rewarded with perky happy forward ears and great interest in whatever it is I'm going to do--comb, brush, and/or braid.  I visited with one horse who I wasn't going to groom today and was standing outside his stall.  He had poked his head out of the stall to say hi to me, so I started scratching his neck.  He straightened it and leaned, so I kept scratching and moved to the other side.  He leaned on me, so I reached up around both sides of his neck as high as I could get and managed to find his happy spot on his poll, up on his neck on behind his ears.  If he was a cat, he would have gone into hyper purring mode.  He rested his head on my shoulder, the full weight of it and even pulled me a bit closer.  This is like a horse hug, for lack of a better way to put it.  I felt so privileged to have gotten that sort of acknowledgement from him.  (And for continuity's sake; Score!)

I moved along to the leggy bay mare and brushed her, worked on tidying up her wild mane, and didn't even mess with her tail.  I need to work on stepping up my game on the mane and tail detangler.  The winter/spring formula is NOT going to work during the summer.  I'm thinking aloe pureed with distilled water, white vinegar, and a couple of other things should potentially work.

There was one horse I hadn't worked on last week or earlier this week, so I tackled sorting out his mane and getting him groomed.  He leaned into the brush when I was brushing his neck, so I started scratching his neck in the same place, up on the poll.  That elicited a very soft, relaxed snort and he closed his eyes.  He sighed and leaned some more, so I went in for the ne plus ultra.  Both arms around the neck, scratching his poll, and I managed to be rewarded in the same manner.  The full head weight relaxed on my shoulder and that slight pull with the head to move me a little closer to him.  Score!  

I exited the stall and closed the door.  Then I asked him if he remembered "pretty neck" and he responded with arching his neck to show me that he did.  I told him he was a good, smart boy and was so pleasantly surprised because I hadn't asked him for "pretty neck" for several months.  He accidentally learned it back in the winter in maybe five minutes with no treats involved other than verbal praise and me petting his forehead as a reward for his effort.

Horses are amazing animals.  They are intelligent and it's so easy to understand why they are exceptional for therapy.  

Avoiding the scary chickens today?  Why yes, yes I did avoid the scary chickens.  Score!

Mostly unpacked, key word being mostly.

Yes, I know.  We've been officially moved for like six weeks now.  No, I'm not all the way mostly done done, as in the house is all neat and tidy and organized because I need a bookshelf for the books.  

The other day, I cooked a beef roast in the slow cooker with about twelve ounces of beer and it turned out rather well.

I decided it was time for some colcannon, or colcanon, if you prefer that spelling.  It was amazing, of course, and definitely one of my more favorite comfort foods.

Spent quality time with the monkeys when College Monkey was off work for two days in a row.  Best way to do that quality time thing?  Star Wars.  Yes, I raised them to be SW nerds.  It's a wonderful thing in the insanity of this day and age to be able to commune around the tv and discuss all the fun stuff that's SW related and speculate on the upcoming movies.

Football Monkey wanted to know who The Phantom Menace was.  I told him it was Jar Jar Binks.  He asked me if he was really supposed to believe that.  I said yes.  Jar Jar Binks was The Phantom Menace.

Anakin Skywalker is still a whiny bitch, always has been, always will be, except for Little Kid Anakin.  He was tolerable.  After watching the other SW movies (the originals) also, I can safely say that Luke definitely inherited that trait.  Even when the originals came out, I can definitely say that as warped as it may sound, I preferred Han to Luke, even though my cousin told me Han was "too old" for me to prefer.  I liked the idea of Han and Leia, the fangirl in me was so pleased to find out in the SWEU (INSERT GRATUITOUS SPOILER ALERT HERE) that they eventually got together.  Woot.  Han and Leia.  Awesome sauce!  (ETA:  I'm not a professional movie critic, I just like to make opinionated comments on my blog sometimes.  JS)

One of our cats resembles an Ewok.  I want a Chewbacca because then I could tell people I have a Sasquatch for a pet, even though I don't speak Shyriiwook.

On a weather related note, cooler weather is headed our way.  The geese are returning from Canada.  The Children of the Fur have been acting differently this week.  The Ewok looking cat has been super bouncily energetic, so that must mean cool weather is on the way.  This would be a good thing.  The black cat has also been on the spazzy side of energetic, so I'm thinking he will also appreciate the cooler weather.  (Now that said, keeping him out of the fireplace should be a challenge since he seems to like walking around the back of the fire screen.  Glass doors shopping at a home store, here I come, since I don't want the cat to injure himself.)

The amount of laundry I'm doing is down to one load every other day.  I'm not joking about this.  It's a glorious feeling!  The reason for that is A--ginormous washer.  B--it washes a load of laundry in fifteen minutes.  The dryer takes a few minutes longer to dry, but talk about the time I spend on laundry being minimized!  It's amazing!

So, the husband changed jobs.  Just when that was going on, I got a call from the oncology office and was told by the nurse "You have to have your appointment changed.  The doctor won't be in that week."  No, I don't HAVE to change my fucking appointment, because *I* never made the appointment to begin with, so yeah, ever so glad you decided to call me about it.  I have clearly and repeatedly stated I make my own appointments.  (If any of you readers have had a shit storm diagnosis like cancer or something devastatingly similar, you will appreciate making your own damn appointments for yourself because YOU know what's going on in your life at any given time and what your schedule/potential schedule is/could be.)  

The way it works for me is this way.  (And yes, this HAS been discussed with the oncologist, and was, in fact, his idea.)  I don't just randomly go in, see him, get orders for a scan handed to me, get get scanned, and then go back to him to get the results.  In regards to that, I think he's being reasonable, which I don't have a problem with.  Why pay for two office visits when the scan order can be faxed to whatever facility is doing the scan and then just pay for a single office visit to get the scan results from him?  Yay for the common sense factor of this oncologist--I do have an appreciation for that.  (No, that's not actual sarcasm, that's me being serious--I actually do appreciate him having discussed that with the husband and me.)

Not only that, with the job change came insurance changes, so I don't even know if the medical facility where my oncologist is takes this kind of insurance, if this insurance pays for the scans I'm supposed to have, and if the place that does the scans takes this kind of insurance.  (And I'm supposed to see the oncologist, according to what he said, once every three months.  I stretch it out closer to once every six months because I turn into this terrified, excessively stressed out insomniac who can't eat without getting sick any time this even comes up with a visit to the oncologist and/or scans.)  I know, right?  Like it's not stressful enough without having to deal with freaking insurance shit?  ZOMFG, already!

(To make it all much worse though, when the local office where my husband was employed was shut down, he lost five weeks of paid vacation.  That meant he could take off to go with me for scans and oncologist visits.  Now?  He has to work like holy fuck, a week to earn four hours of paid time off.  Now he won't be able to take off to go with me to get scanned or visit the oncologist.  I know you're probably thinking I should grow the fuck up and put on my big girl panties, but fuck, you know, any time there's a visit to the oncologist, once diagnosed, there's always the potential for Bad News.  No, that's not me looking to borrow trouble, that's just the fucking reality of a cancer diagnosis.  Once diagnosed, there's always the potential for it to return FOR ANYONE.)

I'm acquainted with some metsters and have communicated with some of them for around three and a half years now, and some are the #PINKISNOTACURE people, some aren't, but yes, I have a point to this, and that is mets.  How many of you have had it discussed with you when you were first diagnosed?  Like specifically something along the lines of, "You've been diagnosed with breast cancer.  Whatever is done to you to fix you, you need to understand there's always going to be a possibility of mets.  That is the reality of this vile disease."  

There was a discussion recently on my CB group about some things that aren't always discussed with patients.  Things like actually explaining the sort of breast cancer someone was diagnosed with, a prognosis, and...dare I say it?  Mets being a part of that discussion.  Yes, you read that correctly.  Mets.  It was certainly not discussed with me.  I'm not fucking making this shit up.

I was told the breast cancer I had was not hormone fed or driven, as some doctors say.  (I also wasn't told I would need a bilateral mastectomy done.  The entire fucking time, it was "Lumpectomy, lumpectomy, just a lumpectomy, nothing more.  Mastectomy won't be necessary, blah blah blah."  While I understood that a mastectomy might be necessary and the thought crossed my mind, everyone and their fucking brother said LUMPECTOMY.  That.  Was.  It.  

So, yeah, you can imagine the fucked-up-ness of my brain when the fucking oncologist said "Oh, I'll call the surgeon to schedule you for your mastectomy."  What the ever loving fuck all?!  Seriously?  A fucking mastectomy?  After how many months of you saying "just a lumpectomy" and nothing more?  FUCK.  So yeah, when I went to the surgeon, I said "Take them both, I will not fucking do this again and stay sane."  Yeah, I have the feeling he made me pay for the statement because he did a radical mastectomy on me.  I was lied to about that, also.  I was told it would be modified and only breast tissue would be removed.  I fucking woke up with nothing more than skin over ribs from a massive amputation on my entire chest.  Modified, my sarcastic ass.  Is it any fucking wonder I have fucking huge trust issues with anyone medical now?  (That said, Streak does have a friend who is a doctor and I'm okay with being around her because I've never seen her in doctor mode, I've only ever seen her in mom mode in tee shirts, blue jeans, and flip flops.  That, I'm totally okay with.)

Anyway, I was not given a "prognosis."  I was told if I did "treatment A" then I had an XYZ % chance of being alive in X amount of years.  If I did "treatment/protocol B" then I would have ABC Z%Z chance of being alive in Q amount of years.  The percentage between the two "options" and I use that word loosely because I didn't get to make that decision was something like a miniscule amount of maybe two percent.  When that was what I was told, it was more like "This is what you should do." without giving the husband and I an opportunity to really discuss it.  It's ridiculous how it was explained/not explained.  

At best, it's an info dump that would make any patient's head explode because of the kind of diagnosis it is, but when these medical people tell patients "I'll give you the information I think you need to know.  Any questions?"  then how the ever loving fuck all are people supposed to even know what the fuck to ask?  They aren't.  Or is that the whole point?  I can say that more than once, I would ask a specific question and be completely ignored, so what's the fucking point of asking?  Not much of one, is there?

Mets was NEVER mentioned.  The cancer emperor has no clothes?  So that's how it works?  If mets isn't mentioned to the patient, then it must mean that it won't happen to the patients who aren't told about it.  Seriously?  That kind of mentality really fucks the patient over, because it's dismissive of the importance of educating the patient about what's going on with their body.  It's basically the same shit as "Oh, you're breastfeeding your baby?  You'll never get breast cancer."  

I'm fucking serious, people.  I had more than one doctor say that to me when the monkeys were wee little critters.  That's why the shit storm diagnosis that breast cancer is came as such a huge fucking shock to me.  I wasn't aware I had any risk factors going on for breast cancer, other than I had breasts, which evidently IS a risk factor for anyone since men have breast tissue, also.  What probably did it to me was the DES I was subjected to when I was in utero, but it kind of doesn't fucking fix anything related to any of this and it sure as fuck doesn't fix the fact that anytime I would tell a doctor I was DES exposed, it was ignored. 

Why bother even making the effort to fucking communicate with medical people?  They're obviously more educated than the average patient, so they must know more even though they aren't the ones living in these bodies.  What the fuck ever.

I'll get the fuck around to finding out insurance coverage shit when I'm damn good and ready, probably not until after school starts next month.  At this point, one way or the other, it doesn't matter.

I suppose I'll be trying to cram in as much time feeding carrots to horses before the scan, after the scan, and before the visit to the oncologist.  That's the only way I'll be able to deal with the amount of stress my brain will be trying to contend with.

38 views in one day?

April 28, 2015, there happened to be 38 page views.  None of them were mine.  Wtf?  Where did you people come from?

Anyway, moving on..."Oh Mother's Day, what are you doing?  Blah, blah, blah."

Please can that nonsense and yes, I'm a Scrooge about shit like that.  To me, it's just another day to do laundry and cook like any other day.  As a wife and mom, if there is appreciation of me, it should be every day, not just one day out of the year.  Did anyone even think of that?  Just curious.

Last week, I was brave and called a place around the corner and down the road to inquire about boarding prices.  $350.00 pasture board, $450.00 stall board.  Those prices are indicative of the lower end of what's customarily charged for boarding.  Some places include vet/farrier fees in that price, if those services are needed, some charge extra.  Those prices are also customary of leasing fees.

I called the place around the corner, around the corner (No, that's not a typographical error.) and inquired.  $125.00 pasture board, $150.00 stall board, because "I try to keep it affordable for people." were his exact words.  He has a horse for lease that's a TWH for $275.00.  Still more than can be afforded right now (but reasonable because that's a full lease with as much riding time as I could possibly stand) what with the house build going on, but I may look into the process of getting hired as a sub so I can pay for my own horse related activities once I contribute several thousand to braces for College Monkey.

The husband told me he didn't want me to work unless I *wanted* to work, but with an insanely expensive addiction of horses that I know I want to continue pursuing, I feel like it's my responsibility to contribute in some manner since writing sure as fuck hasn't paid off.  (So yeah, I'll wind up working to pay for something I'd love to enjoy, only to be too tired to enjoy it.  No logic, but since it's me and we all know I have no concept of limitations regarding my life post cancer until I'm non-functional from exhaustion, well, we'll see how this goes.)

I went and met said TWH and the guy who owns him around the corner, around the corner.  TWH was adorable, of course.  I spoke with the guy for some time and offered to walk his fence line twice a week and pick up trash that blows in.  There are two horses I can groom, TWH and ON.  ON is too old to be ridden, he's a retired re-enactment horse, but would love the attention, so I don't mind.  I'm all about grooming horses since I'm not able to ride right now.

(The one thing that was interesting was that I met a BLM Mustang who was very much interested in nuzzling me, rubbing all over me with his face, and I was amazed at how rowdy he wasn't and how well mannered he was.  He was an absolute kitten horse and evidently, came off the truck like that.  Talk about shattering a legend about Mustangs being rowdy, well, he certainly did.)

Yesterday, I walked between fifteen to twenty acres of fence line and picked up trash.  Of course the horses wanted to follow me around, hoping for treats, but none were overly pushy or demanding, which is a good thing.  The owner of this place had told me he has a stud horse who wouldn't object to me being in his pasture walking the fence, he'd just want treats.  That was funny because when I climbed through the fence and this big, black stud horse notices me standing there, he decides I'm interesting and wants to investigate the new human.  He comes running at me, so I just stood there and waited.  He slowed up to a trot about fifty feet away, then about twenty feet away, he slowed up to a walk and very politely approached me and asked for treats.  I don't make it a habit to give treats to horses I don't know, so I talked to him and petted him for a few minutes and then once he lost interest, read that as he figured out I didn't have any treats with me, he wandered off, I finished that fence line.

Time taken walking entire fence line of said huge property?  Two and a half hours.  I wore my tall boots because of snakes and ticks.  It's not flat terrain, either.  It's very rough and uneven.  I have to clean my boots today because they need it.  I may switch to my shorter boots, even in spite of ticks, since they are easier to clean.

After that, I went to the other barn and groomed the big palomino gelding.  (He'd been a complete jack wagon last week.  Not in a rude manner, but a typical horse manner.  I went out to catch a horse to groom.  He wasn't interested, so I got the big mare, took her into the barn, groomed her, and turned her loose.  I tried again on the big palomino gelding and again, he wouldn't cooperate.  I chose one of the red geldings, took him into the barn, groomed him, and turned him loose.  Guess who suddenly decided to follow me?  You guessed it.  The big palomino gelding.  "Want to be in your pocket!  Want to follow you into the barn!  Right now!  Let's go!  Groom me!"  Dude, seriously?  You had two chances, now I have to go back to being responsible wife and mom and go home, clean up, and cook.  *shakes head*)  Anyway, yeah, yesterday, I managed to groom him.  He was good while he stood for me, although he was funny.  We had to walk from way over in the other pasture area, but he decided once he got into the barn, he needed to poop.  At least he pooped when I brought him in and he didn't actually poop on my head while I was cleaning his back hooves.  (Either you'll get it or you won't.  This is what horses do, get creative about pooping.)

Stranger things have happened.

Barn time yesterday was nice with nary a chicken to be found, except for the itty bitty ones in a tub with a light because they are babies.  They aren't much bigger than my two thumbs put together, so they are okay.  It's the big white chicken that hates me.

The horses were goofy, though.  One wouldn't pick up her right front hoof for me to clean it, so we got into a leaning contest.  Four of them tried to untie the lead rope they were tied with while I was grooming them.  One hadn't rolled in pee like he usually does.  One had mud dreads.  I will attribute all of that silliness to the full moon.

I received in my inbox a message about my documenting of the house build going on.  Evidently, the company who is building it wants to feature some of the pictures on their social media.  I suppose that's a good thing, even though the camera in my phone isn't all that great.  Stranger things have happened, go figure.  Inadvertent photography being publicated (Yes, my own made up word.) and yet when I try to intentionally get my novel length fics published, nothing happens.  Wtf?

Today, I made toothpaste again.  That's always fun.

The other day, I decided on what things I would give a quiz on regarding beta reading/editing, if I was ever in charge of looking for people who could beta read or edit.

Who and Whom

Who's and Whose

A and An

I and Me

Which is not an article?  A, An, The, It

Me, I, Myself, Mine 

Abstract Nouns

Then and Than
Accept and Except

Wither, Whether, Weather
Sale and Sell

That and Which

There and Their

To, too, and two
Weary and Wary

Were, we're, wear, where

Yes, I would definitely find those very fun to toss at someone to see if they knew their shit about this shit, just because.

And now, I think it's time for either some strawberry cobbler or white wine.

Barn time this week.

The damn chicken stalked me and cornered me in a stall both days I was at the barn this week.  Now the thing is, if the chicken was a vampire, I'd know how to deal with it.

Maybe I need to look into chicken repellent for the scary chicken.

The horses were fabulously delightful.  I did unicorn braids on some of the tails this week, but since it takes longer to comb out, I won't be doing that much anymore.  W's tail is improving nicely.  D's tail is now dragging the shavings when it's unbraided and combed out and that's with it being wavy, so go me on successful tail management at the barn, even if I am only a volunteer.

The weather has been wicked cold this week, snow and ice at the beginning of the week and more snow and ice at the end of the week, but I did manage to get some colored hair bands for tail braiding next week.  That will be awesome since there's neon green, purple, pink, black with silver, and orange, I think it is.  Or is it neon blue?  Anyway, you get the idea.  Colored hair bands for tails equals for even more fun braiding time.

Cleaning hooves was a challenge this week.  I should have worn my Solidea sleeve because of the change in air pressure, but didn't.  I did have on my UnderArmor shirt, which still helped, it just wasn't quite as firm in support as what the Solidea sleeve is.

Last night's supper for me was some pasta noodles, with broiled asparagus salted with smoked salt, a drizzle of olive oil, and a pat of butter.  It was so damn good.  Don't hate me.

Milestone post coming up.  I shall update my pinterest number, I dropped the fakebook page because it was pointless.  I had minimal activity on it, I refuse to fight with fucking fakebook about if people want to follow me and/or see my damn posts, so fuck it.  I'm on here, I'm on pinterest.  Shouldn't that be enough?  I think it should be, at least it is for me, anyway.  JS