The disorder cuts the connection from the inner ear to the brain causing a loss of balance. Is worst cases dogs will just lay down and not walk. After a while (days sometimes) they get use to it, and try walking again. The body adapts and they become functional again.

The problem is my Dad seams to think Shera has progressively gotten worse over the course of the last week. The Vet said she has an ear infection which could be causing this. Because of the itchy ears Shera shakes her head, losses her balance and falls down.

The Vet gave my Dad some antibiotics for the ear infection, and said it could be 3-4 weeks before seeing an improvement. If she doesn’t improve it could be something worse like a brain tumor. Only a MRI could show that, but that unfortunately, financially, is not an option.

So now we wait, and hope for the best.

He wants to take her to the vet but can’t afford it. That’s why he called. His vet was booked solid for the day and can’t see Shera until the morning. He doesn’t want to take her anywhere else, so I booked the appointment.  I’ll know more tomorrow.

It breaks my heart to hear my Dad like this. Shera is his world, now that my Grandmather has passed away and I moved to Portland. Shera is all he has. She’s been a great dog. I’m not sure there is anything the vet can do for her. The only thing I/we can do is plan for the worst and hope for the best.

If you can’t read it it says:

“I continue to save a voicemail from my grandmother. i listen every day. hearing her voice reminds me that I’m not alone. she dies 2 and a half years ago.”

—–Email Message—–
Sent: Sunday, October 26, 2008 5:46 PM
Subject: grandma’s voicemail

I have three voicemails my 34 year old cousin left me on my cell phone before she died of ovarian cancer over three years ago. In 3 years I will be older than she was when she died and my goal is to keep those voicemails until then. Maybe I’ll keep them forever.

—–Email Message—–
Sent: Sunday, October 26, 2008 10:16 PM
Subject: grandma’s voicemail

I work for a major cell phone carrier. About once a year we hear of a story where someone is desperately hanging on to a voicemail from a lost loved one. We will put a hard copy of a voicemail from a lost loved one in your hands if you ask. It could be the greeting on their phone or a message they left on yours. We want you to have those memories. Please ask.

As a child my Dad was dropped on his head and stopped breathing. The fire department was able to revive him, but he sustained brain damage. He is learning disabled. In fact, he reads at about a 1st or 2nd grade level. Because of this my Grandmother “babied” him. She did EVERYTHING for him. He became very dependent on her for many things that you or I take for granted. Things like cooking meals, writing checks to pay bills, ect… So when my Grandmother died it really rocked his world. With a lot of help and patience, he is for the most part self sufficient with daily things.

What my dad doesn’t have in book smarts he makes up with street smarts. He was affiliated with the Hell’s Angels, and took care of things financially by hook or by crook. I’m not saying my Dad was a criminal, he held a job as a machine operator for many years. He worked very hard for a very small pay check, but he was always able to pay my Mom her $200 a month in child support up until I turned 13 years old and chose to live with him.

In 2000 my Dad had two heart attacks only weeks apart, and because of the trips to the hospital they also found that he had cancer. Stage five colon cancer none the less. He didn’t have medical insurance, so he never spoke up about the pain. I was 19, and he was a young 41. His life changed a lot right then. No more upper drugs, no smoking (smoking has been a constant battle for him to over come), and he had to start eating a healthier diet. After the removal of several feet of colon, and chemo his caner went into remission, but he’s never been the same. He’s not nearly a strong as he used to, his stomach where the surgery happened still causes him pain, his heart is still weak, has high blood pressure, and gets dizzy if he over exerts himself.

That brings us to today. My Dad lives in wonderful West Pittsburg (or Bay Point if you’re not old school). What a piece of shit town. My entire life its been littered with gang activity, drugs, drive bys, and prostitution. As a child it was a predominantly black community. Now is more of a Hispanic / black mix. Not that this is a bad thing. I grew up in this diverse community, and I appreciate it. The problem isn’t due to race. It’s due to people and their life styles. My dad has a lady, Joann, living with him. I’m not sure what to call her. He’s never made it clear if she’s a care giver, girlfriend, friend, or what ever. But I do know that she gets some type of income, most likely welfare, and help pay for things around the house. My problem is the baggage that Joann brings.

Originally my Dad told me she was his friend, and that she was lesbian. She had a partner that is a crack dealer. Sweet! It’s good to know people with connections, right?! Well, I guess they broke up. This other lady is always calling my Dad’s house looking for Joann. If Joann doesn’t talk to her or go meet up with her as requested things start happening. Things like bricks thrown through living room windows, and truck tires slashed. My Dad was able to get the windows fixed for free from some community agency, and some how paid for new tires. The problem is that the original problem never went away, so what do you think happened? His tires were slashed, and his windows were broken agian.

My Dad caught one of the neighbors messing with his house one morning. He’s a known crack head. So what’s most likely happening is that this other lady is pissed off at Joann, and is paying people in crack to sabotage my Dad. God DAMN this pisses me off! My Dad has even gone so far as to physically fight people that she sends down to look for Joann.

I asked my Dad when enough is enough. I asked when he was going to eliminate his new cancer… Joann. He said that he’s been on his street for the second longest amount of time. It’s “His street”, and nobody is going to run him off. I reminded him that he’s not a strapping young lad, He’s soon to be 49 years old, has a broken down body, and what happens when someone stronger comes and is tweaking on crack? His answer…. “I guess that’s when pride gets in the way.” My reply… “I guess that’s when your FOOLISH pride gets you murdered. Who needs a father anyway?”

I wrote and record Cold December in memory of my Grandmother December 2006. This is when I first start recording, and before I took vocal lessons. I plan on rerecording it in a better quality. She deserves it.

Click here to hear Cold December.

Cold December
Sitting under this tree I say a prayer
Wishing you here, here for me.
Leaving flowers show how much I care
Holding up a promise “Always take care.”

It’s a cold December
Dark and lonely
I wish I could remember
Every word you said to me
I know I haven’t been the
Picture prefect one
I stand up strong
For everything I’ve done wrong

A couple of years have gone by still I cry
It’s been a while since I’ve came by
It seams so hard no matter how I try
When will the empty fill back in?

It’s a cold December
Dark and lonely
I wish I could remember
Every word you said to me
I know I haven’t been the
Picture prefect one
I stand up strong
For everything I’ve done wrong

I miss you Grandma.

Martha E. Anderson
Dec. 7th 1923 – Jan. 21st 2005