I Ain't NEVER!

One of my cousins on my husband's side (which, to me, is just a cousin -- a cousin is a cousin is an aunt's and uncle's child) used to interject conversations or chats with this little humorous saying, "Well, I ain't NEVER!"  Kind of a take on something Scarlett O'Hara might have said in an indignant moment sans the improper grammar.  But in the context used by my cousin, it's more akin to poking fun at something that can be either true or outlandish, reassuring or annoying, but something demanding extra attention or exclamation or double confirmation.  If I remember rightly, it's also one of those phrases she used to toss out there when a few or more glasses of wine has passed her lips.  For whatever reason, I find it appealing.  And I hadn't heard it in a very long time until I came across it on Facebook.  (Yes, that counts as hearing because the moment I saw those words, her voice popped into my mind, crystal clear and rife with her brand of personal statement: though others may use the line, she OWNS the line.)

Anyhoo, this afternoon -- on a day where the clock stood still, where I rolled out of bed at 5:30AM'ish to throw together a lunch for my husband who had to leave early for work meetings, where I promptly returned to bed and surrounded myself in layers of pillows, blankets and darkness, whereby I missed my morning interactions with my kids because I slept in until 9AM and they let me sleep on, and only Hank the Wonder Pup's deep bellow at the world beyond our back yard interrupted this rare dormancy which could have lasted on into the 10 or 11 hour -- those four words raised their communal little heads in my inner world as I hunched over our ailing grand dame of a dog, Panda, and crooned soothing comfort over her.

As I simultaneously ran light hands and fingers over her head and chest, stopping to gently massage her rear legs, and carefully avoiding any pressure over her cancer-harboring bulging mid-section.  As I let her know that I realized just how great a dog she has been for all of us.  That she was, and is, THAT good family dog, the Valdez Family pet and mascot, the stolid presence so central to our household experience since the birth of our son.  That I was sorry for the white pup's rudeness when he earlier ran past her and whacked the side of her masked face with the small log he had clenched between his teeth.  That his place in the house in no way usurped her alpha status as head canine: he would be important in my life, and IS central to my present happiness, but he will never be THE Valdez family pet.  Only she could fill that one-time appointment in all our lives.  Further, I start to softly cry at this point, I apologized for the unfair development of her health in her golden years.  Because she's having a senior day, overcome by the need to sleep, uninterested in food, showing no real perkiness or interest in anything around her save me when I happen to approach her in the cool north-shaded corner of our yard -- that's in the vicinity of the triangle created by the ornamental Zebra grass, the oakleaf hydrangea and her water dish -- Panda chooses merely to watch me through hooded eyes, piercing blue orbs of sweetness.  And lick my hand each time it finds her muzzle.

I know.  Moving.  Touching.  A precious portrait of a dog and a dog's best friend and master.  It truly is.  Really.  But aside from that, what got to me was the fact that just yesterday my feelings ran hot and rather irritatingly angry.  Over nothing seemingly too large.  My poor confused son and husband is all I can say on that topic.  And at noon today, this boo-hoo moment with Panda marked the third emotive gush of appreciation and affection coupled with either waterworks or their beginning within half an hour.  (The initial gush involved me thinking I should dash off a card to my brother-in-law to thank him for finding this fantastic house in which I've found solace and friendship and a cozy spacious kitchen where celebrations of all kinds forged memories which help now to compensate for the loss of the old elm tree; the second gush centered around, surprise, surprise, Hank the Wonder Pup as he gallivanted around the yard and splashed in the pool, because his unexpected arrival into my world has proven to be both cathartic and a bridge by which I can more safely cross the waters of change swirling about me.  That's a lot, huh?!)  Outside of PMS or the mild depression I experienced before accepting help from a mild daily dose of anti-depressant, this circuit-breaking flow of feeling is abnormal and interrupting to my daily schedule!  Thus, "I AIN'T NEVER!"

And I blame it all on that sinus infection which so tortured me last week and through the weekend.  Which began as allergies and graduated into intense pressure and regular pain that forced me into the doctor's office, hoping for relief I couldn't find in my own remedying search.  Said doctor prescribed a one-two punch of antibiotics and prednisone.  Ah, prednisone.  That common corticosteroid used in treating all manner of inflammation caused by multiple marauders to the human body.  While the benefits are many and invaluable to countless individuals, it also spins off unwanted side effects.  In me, the primary side effect, of which I warned my my family the moment I walked out of that office with the script, manifests with sudden mood changes.  Me no likey!  Hubby no likey!  NO ONE no likey!  We know this because there was one other run-in with illness which required me to take a 5-day step-down pack of a similar medication: I appeared to be possessed by a Mr. Hyde version of myself for three days.  Awful.  Miserable.  And a bonafide, super-dee-dooper, highly recommended reason to explore other remedies for physical maladies when at all possible.  Though I lately sound more like a walking one-woman pharmacy, I've always eschewed the ingestion of, and reliance upon, any kind of pill to feel better.  Remember, this is the gal who crawled around the floor with labor-like period pains for a few years before a physician talked her into regularly taking the 800-mg dose of ibuprofen which shuts down that specific agony.  Can't say, "I ain't never!" about that.

Well, there you have it.  My mental meanderings in blog-form for this Tuesday.  Take what you will from it.  Or leave it there on the floor with the slobber and hairs from my newest counter-measure against depression!