Getting Healthy in San Diego one bone at a time!

Random header image... Refresh for more!

Onward and Upward

Wednesday, June 9th — I had another re-exam today. After going through the usual repertoire of motions (“restricted… slightly restricted… still restricted…”), which were noted by one of Dr. Klein’s bevy of wonderful assistants, I was able to see my most recent graph on the screen of the laptop as soon as David was finished adjusting me. Let’s hear it for the Age of Technology!

This is a big step ahead of waiting till somebody had time to feed the information into the computer and then let the program do the calculations to figure out the percentages and draw the graph. And even that was pretty impressive.

And what awaited me, when Jenny went over the graph with me today, was SURPRISE! Only about a month ago, I was (depressingly) only at 55%. That meant I had recovered 55% of the Objective Findings Dr. Klein had noted originally. Today — WOO-HOO! — I was at 67.4%!

The last time I was at 67.4% was in January of 2009.

Looking at this information on a graph puts it all into perspective for me. For the first four months of my Journey with Chiropractic, back in the spring of 2008, the line rose startlingly fast, at a nice sharp angle. I was nuts to think it would continue that way, but I did, optimist that I am by nature.

The fifth month it sort of leveled out. That meant that all the immediately fixable problems had been dealt with; now we had to get working on the longer-range disorders.

After that, for several months the progress was upward, but painfully slowly.Tiny increments… and this was with being adjusted three times weekly.

Then, in February 2009, I had the fall that put a cell-phone-sized gash into my right lower leg, and began the long, long healing process that included first three-times-weekly visits to a wound care center at a downtown hospital, and then later, twice weekly. There were a couple of months when I didn’t get to Seaside Chiropractic at all. Then for a while I went once a week — better than nothing, I thought. Meanwhile, the hole in my leg got gradually, gradually smaller.

Needless to say, the graphs of my chiropractic progress plunged dramatically downward. It was very disheartening, but only logical. My body was working very hard to heal the wound, and not so hard any more to loosen up my long-standing subluxations.

Since the beginning of this year, I’ve been seeing Dr. Klein twice a week, regularly. Although the wound is still not completely healed, it’s close to it (I hope!) and I’m getting around at almost my usual level of energy. Working from home, editing manuscripts for online clients, means I can set my own hours, take a nap and elevate my leg when I need to, and do my yoga exercises here at home as well.

So I’m back at 67.4%, and that looks mighty good to me! I still have the intention of eventually reaching 90%, and the determination to continue with chiropractic adjustments to that point and beyond.

Thanks, David Klein, and Roseanna, Jenny, Caitlin, Sarah, and Brittany too, for all your morale-boosting and excellent adjustment. I couldn’t be in better hands.

Thanks for reading — Betsy

June 10, 2010   No Comments

Up to 55% — Again

Thursday, May 6th — I had another re-exam last week. I never go into these things with much enthusiasm any more, partly because I know I’m going to hear “restricted,” “restricted,” “restricted,” again and again as DK asks me to make various movements. And the other reason a re-exam is not my favorite way to pass a half-hour is that the progress is So Freakin’ SLOW!

Yeah, yeah, I know it’s not reasonable to expect the dramatic upward slope of the graph that I saw in the early months of my treatment. But that was two years ago now, and I am getting just the teeniest bit impatient.

So the graph shows that 55% of the things that were observably and objectively wrong with me, chiropractically speaking, have now been rectified. That’s not too discouraging, until I look back… and back… and back at my blogs, and discover that the last time I was this low was in August 2008, at which time I was deliriously happy about having achieved 52%. Ah, how things do change.

I suppose I ought to take into account the fact that as some things improve, other things go out of whack, so to speak; so the areas of restriction now may not necessarily be the areas that were restricted two years ago. But nevertheless, I look at the graph, and I can’t help feeling a bit sad. So much for my bravely declared goal of walking without a cane and in a non-gimpy fashion by the end of 2008! The Cane and I are still daily companions, and I am still a Gimp.

All I can say at this point is — onward and upward! I intend to keep pursuing the elusive goal of 90%, as long as it takes me to achieve it.

Thanks for reading (sigh) — Betsy

May 7, 2010   No Comments

The New Face of Seaside Chiropractic

Friday, April 16th — It’s two years now that I’ve been going to Seaside Chiropractic, for adjustments from Dr. David Klein. In those two years (I suddenly realized this week) there has been a lot of growth and change happening in the office.

The addition of a new and more modern “moving table” a couple of months ago brought us up to three tables and one chair-style adjustment piece in the main room. Admittedly, it’s a bit crowded now; but it’s interesting to see how patients have their favorite table. My own favorite is the old one in the corner. It works for me!

The staff is up to five full-time assistants, plus Dr. Klein, plus some part-time folks who help with paperwork and other stuff. When I started at Seaside, there were only DK and Roseanna, his long-time helper, and someone who answered the phone for a few hours a week. Staff members came and staff members went, but DK and Roseanna remained the core of the place.

Because David Klein is so adamant about patient education, there was a real need for more staff to learn about how chiropractic works, how the body itself works, and a myriad of other related topics — and then to pass these on to patients by means of The Game. You play The Game each time you visit the office. A staff member asks you a question, the answer to which can be found in one of Dr. Klein’s neat cartoon books on his website. (See the link at left of this post.) If you answer correctly, you get a space initialed on your 20-space card. If you don’t know the answer, Roseanna or Jenny or Caitlin or Brittany or Sarah will teach you what it’s all about — and initial your card anyway. A filled-up card earns you one free adjustment; five filled-up cards earn you a full month of free adjustments! I think it’s a brilliant idea for getting patients interested in learning what chiropractic actually IS!

DK has a knack for finding staff members who are lovely to look at, caring and personable, smart, and hard-working. Somehow they all fit together perfectly. As a result, the office is full of patients — as it should be, indeed.

This is a place where miracles happen — where sore and damaged and “stuck” bodies are realigned and rejuvenated. Lots of the patients I see there are twentysomethings — how clever is that? to use chiropractic as “preventive medicine,” rather than waiting till you’re retirement age and painfully twisted up? Wish I had had the forethought to do that!

But then I might never have been fortunate enough to find David Klein and Seaside Chiropractic. They’ve changed my life. I still have quite a way to go until the graph of my progress shows that I’m at least 90% “fixed” — but I am determined to stay with being adjusted two or three times a week until I get there. I’m patient. I’ve experienced the beginning of the miracle.

Thanks for reading — Betsy

April 16, 2010   1 Comment

Nothing Like Family…

Friday, April 9th — On April 1st, my daughter Sarah (from the Boston area) and my younger son David (from Houston) arrived for a whirlwind visit, only three days. And on April 2nd, my older son Danny, his wife Jackie, and the two teenagers, Heather and William, all from Toronto, joined the gang.

In the 14.5 years I’ve lived here in San Diego, I’ve never had any two of my offspring here at the same time, let alone all three. Now, the thing about my family is, when we get together we tend to be a bit noisy (sometimes we all talk at once, and there is a LOT of talking going on), and the hilarity level is pretty high. We do have a great time together, but it may be a bit off-putting if you’re not used to it.

I have to say, my Beloved Spouse was a real trooper during the past week. He and I live a very quiet life, with our two cats. The cats had no compunctions about simply retiring to a closet or under a bed when things got too noisy for their taste. (Both my sons are tall and large, and they both have nice baritone voices.) Robert, however, hung out with us most of the time. He did tend to wear a facial expression that reminded me of an anthropologist observing the natives and taking mental notes for a future publication… but he hung out. When he’d had enough, he’d simply melt away into another part of the house. It worked just fine.

We didn’t spend all our time carousing, though, by any means. Sarah, the Queen of Organization, announced that it was her intention to completely blitz and reorganize my kitchen. “My Overarching Goal,” she said, “is to make it all completely Intuitive.” Apparently that meant that everything should be just where one would expect to find it. Hmmmm… but what about my piles of paper, magazines, catalogs, cards, and letters? I sort of knew where I could find what I wanted among those.

The pantry cupboard was another story. It’s floor-to-ceiling, and as deep as the refrigerator, which sits beside it. I knew there was stuff in there that hadn’t been seen for several years; I can’t even reach to the back of it, and canned goods and bottles do tend to move sneakily backwards, over time. It’s a scientifically-proven fact.

David and Sarah went out and bought pull-out wire drawers to install in that cupboard. David screwed in the tracks and installed the drawers, Sarah made the “intuitive” decision as to what should go where, and David made a “legend” or road map to tape on the inside of the cupboard door. I hate to admit how many jars, cans, and bottles were thrown away — with expiration dates long, long gone by. I think the oldest item was marked “2003″. Oh dear, how sad.

And there’s more. Danny and David both had fun playing with my new car. The GPS lady is now in communication, and many other problems have been made clear to me. David suggested I back the car into the garage, with the help of the rearview camera. With Robert’s car parked front-first, that gives us lots more room to open driver’s-side doors. And Danny had the brilliant notion of painting white lines on the garage floor, such that if I keep them just within the lines on the rearview camera, I’ll make a perfect landing. A horizontal white line at the back shows me where to stop, with enough room to unload stuff from the cargo area.

We played countless games of Bananagrams, too; Sarah had thoughtfully brought her set along. William and Heather are both excellent at making large and unusual words out of the letter tiles — “carbohydrate” was, I believe, the longest. If you don’t know Bananagrams and you like crossword puzzles and Scrabble, you’ve got to try this. I have become an addict. I was thrilled when the Dannys presented me with my very own yellow twill Banana, containing all the letter tiles necessary for fun and education… I can even play Solitaire. Bananagrams Solitaire… now there’s a thought!

I hated to have them all leave; it was a wonderful, wonderful week. But I confess that as soon as we waved goodbye to them on Thursday morning, the Beloved Spouse and I both took to our beds for a good… long… NAP. Hope came out of my closet and joined me for a cuddle; Chloe settled down in her scratchy-bed; and we were back to our quiet Geezer Life once more.

What a beautiful family I’ve been blessed with! My heart was so full — to think that all of them spent their time, money, and energy to come and be with us, and to devise ways to make our life more comfortable in what we jokingly refer to as the Golden Years. There really is nothing quite like family.

Thanks for reading — Betsy

April 16, 2010   No Comments


Monday, March 29th — Ever since I moved to California as a newlywed in 1996, I’ve been driving the same car: a 1995 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme, which I bought used, with about 7,000 miles on it. It’s been a good car; lots of room, comfortable for a tall person like me. Its main flaw, from my viewpoint, is that the seats are low; and with my various joint replacements, it’s difficult to get in and out without putting a lot of pressure on my very sore shoulders.

But I don’t drive a lot of long distances, and I’ve only racked up about 73,000 miles in fourteen years. So it was my intention to keep this car for perhaps another three years or so. By then, my Beloved Spouse may no longer wish to drive, and I could take over his 2000 Dodge Stratus: a not dissimilar car from the Oldsmobile.I certainly didn’t plan to buy a new car, not any time in the foreseeable future.

My son David called from Houston a couple of weeks ago. He is planning to visit us the first week in April, along with his sister-from-Boston and his brother-from-Toronto, and the rest of the Toronto family, including two teenagers. Here’s how the conversation went:

HIM:   I just wanted you to know that when we’re in San Diego next month, there’s something we want to do.

ME:  Okay, what’s that? (thinking in terms of a visit to the Wild Animal Park, or maybe Sea World)

HIM:   We want to get you a new vehicle.

ME:  (after a shocked pause) You mean… you want to buy me a car? Nooooo! I can’t let you do that!

HIM:   Well, we’ve talked it over, and we are adamant: we want you to be spending your time and energy doing things you want to do, instead of struggling to get in and out of your transportation, and having every exit be painful. Last time I visited, I watched you get out of that car, and if it had taken any longer, we’d have had to time it by the calendar instead of the clock.

ME:   What if I’m adamant, too? This is a wonderful, generous offer, but I can’t have you guys spending your money buying me a car! You have your own lives to live, and living’s not cheap these days!

HIM:   To put it delicately, Mom — there’s one of you being adamant, and there’s three of us. We win. Now, I’m sending you a list of websites to check out. We think you’d like one of those crossover cars, not so big as a van but higher than a car. Do some research online; when you see something you like, go do some test-driving; and when you find the car you want, let me know. We’ve got it covered.

So here I am, a few weeks later, getting acquainted with my beautiful new Subaru Outback! Apparently the most popular car colors in California are:

1) silver

2) white

3) black.

I couldn’t get an Outback in silver or white for several months — not one available in all of California! What I could get immediately was Cypress Green Pearl, so that’s what I have. Actually, I love it — and it’ll be so easy to find in a parking lot filled with white and silver cars, with a speckling of black ones.

Now I have to spend some Quality Time learning how to trust the rearview camera, and how to get the GPS lady to talk to me… and all the other electronic cutenesses that cars have these days. Who knew!! I even get excited when I use the remote door opener — those weren’t around in 1995, apparently.

My chiropractor, Dr. David Klein, asked a room full of patients and staff last week: “If you had to guess, what kind of car would you guess Betsy would pick?” Sadly, almost everybody guessed boring sedans like Buicks, or Ford Tauruses. I figure they thought I’d select an old-lady car. Hey, not me: I’m an Outback Gal from here on in! It’s never too late to learn new stuff.

Thanks for reading — Betsy

April 12, 2010   No Comments

Lookit! Lookit! Lookit!

Saturday, March 13th — You know how little children, when they suddenly acquire a new skill and want you to come and admire their prowess, yell, “Lookit! Lookit!” — presumably a contraction of “Look at this!”?

I swear that NewCat Hope was saying the same thing today… all day long.

We have a cat-flap in our kitchen window. It’s an arrangement of heavy plastic sheeting that Robert contrived when Amy first came to live with us eleven years ago, and it works like those pet-flaps installed in wooden doors. The cats can let themselves in and out through the cat-flap: on the inside, there’s the counter next to the sink, and on the outside there’s a ledge that was, I suppose, designed to allow for passing things in and out through the window.  Picture a  barbecue, with the Little Woman indoors preparing the side dishes and salads, and the Stalwart Hubby, barbecue tools in hand, minding the steaks and chicken breasts on the grill. (Maybe that happened with the couple who lived here originally, but it is certainly not OUR style.)

Anyway: the cat-flap had been blocked off since Hope’s arrival, so she could become accustomed to us and to her new home before going outside. The barricade consisted of a large and very heavy cardboard volume file, in which the Beloved Spouse stores offprints of his scientific articles. I can barely lift it myself, with my sore shoulders.

When I went out to lunch with friends yesterday at 1:00 p.m., both Hope and Chloe were indoors, snoozing on their respective chairs. When I returned at 3:30, the barricade was down. I mean REALLY down — lying on the counter — and it had knocked over the spin-around wooden spice rack and its 16 bottles, so that the wooden rack, all the bottles, and a lot of the spices were scattered over the floor.

There were cat scratches on the top and sides of the file box, and the cat-flap was waving gently in the breeze. It had to have been Hopie — Chloe is way too fat and indolent to have bothered trying to remove the barrier. But Hope had been asking to be let out the door when I left, and I had told her she had to stay in till I got home, and then she could go.

I can just picture her, scratching and shoving at the heavy, heavy file box; ultimately knocking it down, and probably scared by the crash as the spice rack hit the floor. She doubtless took off running… but then, when nothing untoward happened and nobody appeared to clean up the mess, she hopped up on the counter and… WOW!! The flap was open! There was OUTDOORS, accessible at will.

So, as I salvaged what I could of the spice rack and put away the file box, there was Miss Hope, leaping to the counter and zooming out the flap, jumping off the ledge to the patio chair and thence to the patio.  And in two minutes or less, there she was, zooming in reverse. Lookit! Lookit! Lookit! she was clearly saying; Hey, look at what I can do! I figured it out myself! Hey, LOOK at me! Isn’t this neat? Back and forth, back and forth, till it got dark — WOW! I can get OUT! Lookit! And then,  It gets better: I can also get IN! Come on, look at me!

Fortunately, she was pretty well worn out by her adventuring, and slept all night on the bed with me. But it won’t be long till she’s checking out the World of Night as well.

Funny, how much alike cats and children are.

Thanks for reading — Betsy

April 10, 2010   No Comments

Big Words

Friday, February 26th – Can you say epithelialization?

Let’s try it in syllables. Ep-i-thee-lee-ul-i-zay-shun.
And what in the world might this tongue-twister mean?

Epithelial tissue is the membranous tissue that covers many body organs and lines many body cavities. When you’re talking about a wound, epithelial tissue is what forms across the top of the wound when it’s almost healed. The next and final step in wound healing is the formation of epidermal tissue, or the epidermis — or just plain skin.

So epithelialization is the formation of epithelial tissue across the surface of a wound. And that, dear readers, whoever and wherever you may be, is what is happening to me — after almost a year of dealing with varying degrees of Wound Agony and Horror.

Yup, it’s getting smaller, all right, and it’s moving right along. What was once the size of a closed cell phone is now about as long as the short side of a credit card, and about as wide — at the widest part – as a dime. It’s shaped weirdly like the State of California, except that the outlines are not ruler-straight, but kind of jagged.

And all but the very bottom of the Shape of California is now covered by epithelial tissue! Yes, epithelialization is indeed taking place. Maybe my goal of having it fully closed by the Vernal Equinox – that’d be March 21st – is not unrealistic after all! (If it isn’t completely epithelialized by then, I’ll shoot for the Summer Solstice – June 21st.)

Now you know what my Word of the Week is. Please feel free to use it at will… but I hope you don’t have to apply it to a personal condition.

Thanks for reading — Betsy

February 27, 2010   No Comments

Going Commando

Sunday, February 21st — Last week I saw my primary care physician, Dr. Sanjeev Shah. Dr. Shah has been overseeing the oh-so-long-and-ongoing treatment of my leg wound, along with all the other stuff that needs overseeing in a septuagenarian body.

I told him I’d been trying an experiment the previous weekend to see if it made any visible difference in the rate of healing. Seems the wound has been stuck for a while at 4.5 cm length and 1.3 cm width. I’m patient, I can wait; but what annoys me is that the surrounding skin, which has been, in effect, under wraps for the better part of a year now, has become very sensitive. Little raw places keep popping up, or blisters; and Emily, my physical therapist,  has described the skin as “angry” or “macerated” by turns. I am really fed up with it all.

So my experiment was: GO COMMANDO. At least, let the leg do that (the thought of the aforementioned septuagenarian body Going Commando is a little bit horrible). What would happen if I didn’t put on skin barrier, and Alginate, and a foam dressing, and a gauze wrap-up, and a jersey footless sock, and finally the Velcro Circ-Aid? What would happen if I just washed it in the shower, as I do daily; and then put nothing at all on it for 24 hours? Just me and my nekkid leg, in loose jeans, and subsequently in my flannel p.j. pants? What would happen?

I thought it might be good for the skin, and maybe even good for the wound, to be able to breathe a little bit.

Dr. Shah quite surprised me by his reaction. He said: “I’m going to propose a really ROGUE idea here. Keep the leg unbandaged the whole weekend; you can even get a fan and put the leg in the breeze. Just be really, really careful not to bump it on anything. I mean REALLY CAREFUL!”

Well, yeah, of course I’m being careful! Really careful! Now that I am seeing light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak, am I going to screw it up by banging around the house till my totally-undressed wound bashes up against some random piece of furniture and becomes all bloody and gooshy again?

I think not.

Dr. Shah and I also discussed the merits of silver-nitrate-burning. Emily occasionally notes a small area of hypergranulation — that’s where the new flesh that’s growing in tends to grow up higher than skin level, and needs to be brought down a bit — and then she “burns” it back with a silver nitrate stick. Those areas have become much smaller over time, and now they are really tiny.

But Dr. Shah’s comment took me a bit aback: “When I think of the kind of hypergranulation that requires silver nitrate, I think of a HONKIN’ BIG FLAP OF SKIN. And you’ve never had that.”

Well, that’s one small mercy!

So my experiment seems to be getting good results. Emily and I are hoping that by the Vernal Equinox — that’d be March 21st — maybe the wound will be fully closed. Or if not then, we can aim at the Summer Solstice (June 21st).

Thanks for reading — Betsy

February 22, 2010   No Comments

Amy in the Sunshine

Sunday, February 7th — My yoga therapist, Kelli Funkhouser, has been studying drawing and painting for several years. When our cat Amy died in January, Kelli said she’d like to paint a portrait of her for us, from a small photo I had enlarged.

I just wanted to share the resulting painting with all of you. I love, love, love it: it looks exactly like the cat I’ve loved for eleven years, right down to the pensive look in the green, green eyes. What a wonderful gift!

Kelli enjoyed doing Amy’s portrait so much that she’s thinking of doing more animal paintings. You can look at other work she’s done on her Facebook page. I can only say, I am astounded that she’s as good at painting as she is at yoga and physical therapy! :-)

Thanks for reading, and for looking at Amy.  Just think:  this little creature, who had such a tough life on her own for so many years, living outdoors and becoming wise and cautious by necessity — and then had eleven more years of warmth and safety and food and love given and received, is now “known” by everyone who has read about her here, and looked at her thoughtful little face, shining in the sun! — Betsy

February 8, 2010   No Comments

Out from Under

Saturday, February 6th — A lot of catching up to do from the last post! It all happened pretty quickly after that.

During her first night with us, as I had expected, Hope was out from under my Beloved Spouse’s bed, and roaming the house. I know Chloe saw her, but there were no yowls or hisses (I sleep lightly, I’d know). Once, when I got up in the night, as I returned to bed I saw Hope sitting in the hall at my doorway, just staring at me. I talked to her softly and invited her to come see me, but she just faded away into the darkness.

I should tell you what she looks like, and a little history. She’s very beautiful, nine years old, a “tuxedo-tortoiseshell,” according to Sarah, the pet store manager. In Hope’s case, that means that her tummy, chest, four paws, and a bit of her face are white. The top of her head, her back, and most of her tail are blue-gray. The rest of her — legs, sides of her face, and the underside of her tail — is striped and shadowed with silver, white, charcoal, and a pinky-gray that I can only call “peach”. It’s an unusual coloring, and I’ve never seen a cat that looks like this before. Around her eyes (big and green) there’s a line of charcoal and an outer line of peach. It looks as if she’d spent half an hour on her eye makeup. I wish I could do mine as well.

The history part seems oddly predetermined. Hope lived with a single lady and another female cat  the first six years of her life. Then the lady moved out of the country; so she took Hope and the other cat to her veterinarian and told him to euthanize the cats, since she couldn’t take them with her. (!!) On the morning of the day they were supposed to be put to sleep, Sarah (the pet store manager) stopped by that vet’s office, not her usual vet, to pick up some special cat medicine. She saw the two cats, asked about them, and when she learned they were scheduled for The Injection that afternoon, said she would take them herself. They became “store residents,” along with a couple of other cats who lived there. Beautiful and loving as she was, Hope was never chosen by people who wanted to buy a cat, because she was older. People always want kittens, and there are always kittens being rescued and brought to Sarah. The young cats came and went, but Hope stayed.

I have been frequenting that pet store ever since I started going to Seaside Chiropractic, since it’s on the way home and I can get human-grade cat food there. And I’ve been petting and talking to Hope (and the others) all that time, admiring her, telling Sarah that I wished I could take her home but that our oldest cat, Amy, would never stand for it.

After Amy died, when Robert began moaning about how he needed a two-cat family, he wanted another cat soon… I sent him over to have a look at Hope and a talk with Sarah, and see what he thought. I knew a young cat wouldn’t be right for us. We need a Geezer, to fit in with our Geezer lifestyle and energy level. Chloe’s a Geezer Cat too, and none of the three of us would have the patience to put up with a young cat’s explorations and other shenanigans. When Robert came home with a huge smile on his face, and announced — before he had both feet out of the car — “She’s a PERFECT CHOICE!”, I knew that Hope was meant to live with us. I talked with Sarah about it the next day. She said, “You know, all that time you were watching Hopie — I was watching you, and thinking that you’d be the perfect person to take her home!”

At 11:00 a.m. precisely, on Saturday, January 23rd, Hope capitulated. She just visibly said to herself, “Oh, the hell with all this dodging and hiding under the bed: I’m starving for some love and a good tummy-rub!” And she walked out, gave me a tiny double meow, and started weaving around my legs, purring like crazy. She threw herself onto her back, begging, “Oh please, rub my tummy!” The little thing was just starved for touch, after two days of not letting us pet her.

Ever since then, it’s a done deal. Hope is a lap-cat. She cuddles, she snuggles, she sleeps with me sometimes… she talks! Not as much as Amy did, but there’s good raw material there — she’s a talking cat. There have been a couple of frantic chases through the hall, but both times Chloe has been the Chased and Hope has been the Chaser. Sticking up for herself, not taking any of that yowling and hissing, not intimidated but not threatening, either. It’s going to be fine.

This morning, for the first time, I put her food dishes on the kitchen counter, in the place where Chloe used to eat when Amy had the Prime Cat spot. Now Chloe has that, and Hope will eat in Chloe’s old spot.

I am so glad we are patching up the hole in our family. Never the hole in our hearts where Amy is, though… But Hopie is lovely, and sweet, and it is healing to observe the beginnings of a relationship between her and Chloe.

Thanks for reading — Betsy

February 7, 2010   No Comments