Joel’s Tale of Woe: Pt. 2

Having finished my chicken chores with what amounted to a broken shoulder, I decided Uncle Joel had earned a beer. I went to Ian’ place, where resides the refrigerator that dispenses a limited supply of cold beer. And as I was unlocking the door I noticed that the dirt in front of the threshold was more like mud. Somewhat concerned, I opened the door and was greeted by a very great deal of water running across the floor.

I don’t recall how much I told you about Ian’s new water pressure pump. Basically, we installed a new water pressure pump at Ian’s place this summer. Had some trouble with an incompetent contractor but finally got it whirring and – sort of pressure-tested Ian’s internal plumbing. Good news is that most of it passed the test – so far. Bad news involved the part that didn’t pass, I guess. A Pex fitting inside the rear bedroom wall.

The extremely massive concrete floor, like the plumbing, was installed by a bunch of amateurs and is not entirely flat, which turned out to be a good thing because the low spots are among the least likely to cause permanent damage when they flood. I ran around looking for anything to pick up from the flood, while also whining over my so-recently dislocated right shoulder – and wouldn’t you know that one object in danger was an entire case of steel-case Wolf .223?

I assume that Ian brought it here to have it handy for Forgotten Weapons videos, which he’s been doing here more often lately. And he left it on the floor, in the cardboard. I reacted emotionally because a) it’s an entire case of .223 which is not available at any price locally just now, and b) I only had my left arm to pick it up with. Try that some time. They’re heavy. Fortunately it was parked on one of the floor’s high spots, so (probably?) no rust.

I was able to find the leak easily enough, but given my physical condition at the time all I could do about it was turn the water off. I went back a few days later for a deeper dive (heh) into (tearing out the wall and) fixing the leak.

It might have been that same day, because it was just that kind of day, or maybe it was the next day when I discovered the lumps in Torso Boy’s neck.

I’m not a doctor, and in fact have very little experience with health-related physical problems more serious than influenza. But even I know lumps in the neck are hardly ever a good thing. The discovery sent me running to YouTube (Yes, I’m online here at the Lair if sometimes only barely – I’m currently typing this on my tablet ‘pooter with a bluetooth keyboard, both gifts from BB) and now I’m informed that lumps in a dog’s neck generally mean swollen lymph glands which can mean anything from a minor infection to terminal cancer. I’m going with the infection for the obvious reason plus because it appeared so suddenly. And it hasn’t gotten better or worse since then. I do occasionally get the impression that it’s interfering with his breathing but he doesn’t (rather didn’t – we’re not done with our tale of woe yet) act in any way sick.

He was his usual cheerful self until about six nights ago when he was up on the bed and I was watching a movie in the main room and there was a thud in the bedroom and he started screaming and crying.

The bed is the highest thing he (was) allowed to jump down from – that’s now off limits as well and he doesn’t complain. It turns out not to have been as severe an injury as I originally thought, since he was a complete pussy about it at the time but now it barely seems to bother him though he’s still somewhat less heedless about running down the porch stairs. We may need that ramp sooner than anticipated but at the time it seemed Murphy was actively trying to ruin my life.

I am concerned about the throat swelling, which as of this morning is not getting better and may be growing.

Oh, we’re not done with our tale of woe. To be concluded, or at least continued…