[Lixue's Scrapbook]I Whip My Cane Back and Forth

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[Lixue's Scrapbook]I Whip My Cane Back and Forth

Postby Lixue on April 9th, 2012, 9:02 pm

ImageImage
To the left: Speedy, my Sheltie

Name: Katie
Location: In a hand, USA
Interests: Animals, interesting people, reading, writing, mathematics, SADD, sign language, riding horses, driving horses, accents, fake mustaches, and cookies (preferably macadamia nut).
Owned Animals: 15 chickens, 7 horses, 6 rabbits, 6 cats (polydactyl), 5 turkeys, 5 dogs and 1 peacock.
Current PCs:
•Lixue
•Natalina


This scrapbook will contain:
  • Pictures (mine or else)
  • Plottings
  • Other stuff

Rules:
  • No flaming
  • Feel free to post
Last edited by Lixue on July 25th, 2012, 2:04 am, edited 2 times in total.
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I am interested in learning new languages. If you are interested in teaching your language, please contact me. Thank you.
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Lixue
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[Lixue's Scrapbook]I Whip My Cane Back and Forth

Postby Creeper on April 9th, 2012, 9:13 pm

Puppy!!!!! And holy bejebus you have lots of animals.
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[Lixue's Scrapbook]I Whip My Cane Back and Forth

Postby Lixue on April 9th, 2012, 9:16 pm

I forgot to add my dogs. ._. Woops!
"This is Common"
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I am interested in learning new languages. If you are interested in teaching your language, please contact me. Thank you.
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[Lixue's Scrapbook]I Whip My Cane Back and Forth

Postby Alea Davenport on April 10th, 2012, 12:39 am

Flames will be used to roast marshmellows :)
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[Lixue's Scrapbook]I Whip My Cane Back and Forth

Postby Lixue on April 10th, 2012, 1:40 am

I do indeed have a large list of animals. They are a cooky, weird bunch who mesh together only in the way a strange batch can. Unfortunately, I do not currently have pictures of each and every single of my animals. I shall have to work on that. In the mean-time, here are a few (as I am certain I will soon post more) and some descriptions about them. Enjoy!

Image Name: Sam

Breed: Sheltie

Age: 9 years old

Likes: Cats, chasing chickens, herding humans, sleeping, air conditioning and chocolate.

Dislikes: Being stuck in the house while the owners go for a ride, walks that last for more than a quarter mile, and buses.

Personality: Sam is a spoiled dog who lives in the house with her owners. Vain and conceited, she enjoys looking her best and posing for pictures (never quite looking at the camera). Lazy, but easily motivated by food, she would love on a robber if there was food. Traitor.

Description: Sam stands at her owner's calves. Ears are constantly perked to keep a listen for intruders so she can run the other way! A pointy snout, brown eyes, and a brown nose make up her facial features. Sam is a mixture of brown, black, and white coloring with long hair.


Image
Name: Sparky

Breed: Mountain Feist

Age: 4 years old

Likes: Walks, chasing things, human food, and car rides.

Dislikes: Groundhogs, guns, cats.

Personality: Sparky is an overexcited dog. Shy around others, especially men, he tends to be a "Momma's Boy" and follows his owner around. Though he acts tough towards cards and other small, furry creatures, Sparky is terrified of them and is not quite sure what to make of them. Especially if the cat approaches him. Sparky is smart but tends to miss the obvious.

Description: Sparky stands at nearly eighteen inches tall and is made of mostly ears and legs. White covers his stomach, paws, chest, and even a strip on his face. Brown eyes, black nose, and humongous ears make up his head. Tan and with a few highlights of gold, he stands out in against his plain siblings. Sparky is skinny and has no tail.


ImageName: Molly (Answers to "Miles")

Breed: Appaloosa

Age: Uncertain (18-)

Likes: Staying in the barn, loitering in the barn (and eating hay!), her horse-buddy, and chickens.

Dislikes: Deep snow, Being left behind, cantering, and being rode bareback.

Personality: Molly is very easy going. So much in fact, a chicken sleeps in her stall with her; she also doesn't mind a cat lounging on her back! She is an older gal, and enjoys a slow, swing-hipped pace. Responsive to the owner's wishes, she makes a perfect trail ride (alone or with another horse!).

Description: Molly stands about fifteen hands high. Dark brown eyes lay on a face with only a hint of a stripe. No markings on her feet. Molly is an appaloosa, so white/brown spots cover her body, mainly on her back and rump. A loose, stringy mane and tail are usually tangled minutes after being untangled. A hard forehead is used to get the owners' attention. She is swing-hipped.


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I am interested in learning new languages. If you are interested in teaching your language, please contact me. Thank you.
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[Lixue's Scrapbook]I Whip My Cane Back and Forth

Postby Lixue on July 22nd, 2012, 7:44 pm

Who Is Lixue?


Lixue has changed drastically since the bud of life uncurled in my mind. Before her creation, I had eyed the Vantha race on more than once occasion. The idea of their easy-going lives with a solid meaning and the love of stories and elders simply captivated me. The fact that a race could live in the extreme cold with ease because of an adoring goddess was fascinating when I, myself, wear three layers at anything colder than seventy degrees.

Lixue did not originally want to be a doctor. No, she wished to play the drums and be a singer. This was before I, trying to grasp her mind in both hands, wrote a mini-story of her singing and playing the drums. I let the writing guide itself by her hand and we both were surprised at the outcome: Lixue was not a fabulous singer. In fact, unless she was emotionally upset, my PC could barely hold a tune. The drums were a different story. Lixue loved the sound of the instrument and could find a solid rhythm but found the task too tedious, too repetitive. The act bored her. With this in mind, we agreed upon a few basic terms.

1) Lixue would have a close-knit family complete with a full set of parents, grandparents, and siblings. They would not be a disjointed family but "perfect" in the sense of Mizahar. There would be fights, yes, but the family would not shatter. She would not be "abandoned" or sent to live with a different family for an extended period of time. The family would be supportive of each other and the parents would have different methods of teaching.

2) Lixue would follow in the footsteps of a family member. This could be as simple as a parent or as specific as a great-grandfather. If and when we did decide upon an occupation, Lixue and I would both have to agree that it would not be tedious, or at least have an option of becoming more exciting. I wished for a career where she could excel and earn promotions.


To delve into a career, Lixue and I discovered her heritage and who she surrounded herself with. Though I was certain of having both parents, grandparents, etc. in the picture, I was unsure on how many siblings she had or friends for that matter.

Right off the bat, Lixue let me know she wanted a best friend. Someone she could grow with; emotionally, physically, and mentally. Strangely, she sought a male figure for this part. Females, she claimed, could be too moody and Lixue was more likely to buckle under female pressure if she had known the person for an extended amount of time. Besides, she did not want to lose her female friend to a different hold. Lixue was not likely to beg her parents to be married into the same hold as her friend because she believed the morals and ideals of this person would change during such a transition and the pair would not be as close. Thus, Ly was born.

He had different skills and attitude because Lixue wanted something new, something interesting. A medic, she told me bluntly, would drive her up the wall. Each doctor has a different healing method and Lixue could respect that, but not be married into it. While she could work hand in hand with such an individual, she was less likely to view them as anything other than a professional. Throughout her work, Lixue gradually changed. She began to let medics in and believe she could learn from them and they from her without distractions, disruptions, or unreasonable arguments.

Before this, Lixue had not even showed an interest in medicine. I was flabbergasted. Where had this come from? Where was this idea going? Upon reflection, I discovered Lixue truly loved medicine and wanted to specialize in it. She did not say more. Stemming from this and her psychoanalytical personality, I decided she would be best suited for psychological medicine: helping others who had mental diseases, disorders, and even those such as mothers who lost their children and suffered from depression. With this in mind, I decided upon the basic skills of logic, observation, medicine, persuasion, etc.

During this process of discovering her interests, Lixue let me in on her emotional and mental feelings. She was a good person, a person who was constantly willing to put others first. I'm not certain if this came before or after she herself discovered a love of medicine. Her personality was affected by her family. A strong feeling of love for her father and an adoring respect for her mother shown through. From here, I was able to reach the conclusion that either her career choice was from her mother or her mother was a strict parent. Being strict did not seem to make sense given how close Lixue was to her mother and idolized her. Lixue had chosen her career based on her mother.

The question was, how many siblings did Lixue have and what kind of impact did they have? Lixue discovered she wanted children based on her siblings. Her father was a large part of this decision, because Lixue could not see herself married and pregnant with/by someone who was not easy-going and confident.

Here, I discovered Lixue harbored feelings for her best friend, Ly. I played matchmaker and put them into situations where one would be awkward because of the feelings and the other oblivious. Unfortunately, Lixue was normally the oblivious one. Ly had already fallen head over heels for her years earlier.

The process of figuring out Lixue was long. More often than not, she blocked me out until there was a compromise. The more we wrote together, the more we got along. I enjoyed seeing Lixue grow from a two dimensional person on paper to a true individual. She made a name for herself doing something that fit her persona.

Moving from Avanthal, Lixue changed drastically. She had to leave her family behind and learn to depend on others, including her husband. At first, Lixue did not want Ly to go. They had just been accidentally married in the eyes of Cheva and she was still uncertain of how she felt about that. However, Lixue is not the type of person to run away from a situation such as that and, after seeking the advice of her father, agreed to have him travel with her.

The main goals Lixue set were still in place. As she began to work at the Injury Ward, Lixue really found herself. A meek personality became confident and full of leadership. There was less second-guessing herself and more trusting her intuition. Lixue was not afraid to ask for the help of others and knew her limits.

Strangely, she shied away from psychological medicine. She had no problem with being covered head to toe with blood but found it hard to hold the burden of more than two people at once, plus be expected to fix the problems. As she progressed into the medicine skill, Lixue filled out. Psychological, emotional, physical and other wounds were welcomed. Confidence.

At first, it was a hard transition from Vantha to Jamoura. Not for me, because I could read up on them, but for Lixue, who had no OOC information. The hardest was learning how to read the emotions of others, non-Vantha. Their eyes did not change. For this matter, she clung to Ly, a full blooded Vantha.

Their relationship strengthened and the pair began to try for children, something both wanted. Unfortunately, Lixue did not get pregnant right away. She kept her worries to herself and began to see a doctor without his knowledge. This medic was for seeing if there was a problem with Lixue's body. In the near future, she will discover the inability to have children.

It is uncertain of how this will affect her marriage, social life, and career.

Lixue change drastically from when I first created her. She transitioned from an insecure Vantha-mix to a doctor who knew she could help someone. A single life was brought to a close with an unexpected marriage and family life was cut off after a move to heal others. Occupation-wise, Lixue moved from a psychological doctor to an all around doctor. I'm still discovering just who this person is and am surprised daily by her.
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I am interested in learning new languages. If you are interested in teaching your language, please contact me. Thank you.
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[Lixue's Scrapbook]I Whip My Cane Back and Forth

Postby Lixue on July 24th, 2012, 7:06 pm

Waiting
Image


Waiting is part of the process in everything. Slapping together ingredients and creating a stir-fry takes time. You have to wait for the meat to be browned, for the vegetables to be fried, the rice to cook, and not to mention prep time. There are things to gather from an overflowing garden or the silent supermarket. The water has to be brought to a boil, the pan warmed. Only after each individual step in finished can you put them together and make a masterpiece. Only then can you taste the harsh seasoning of the food on your taste-buds.

Everything takes time. Nothing happens in in a split second. Even car crashes can take several minutes or seem even longer. Losing weight can take months. Writing a thesis can take a year, or more. Building self-esteem has the ability to last even longer.

I'm waiting for something that will never happen. I'm waiting for a change that will never be anything more than a figment of my imagination. Sure, there may be minor differences here and there, but it will not be anything major. I'll rejoice everytime it changes, but I will not wish for more. Not because I don't want it, I do, but because I don’t NEED it.

I'm speaking of my vision. In my left eye, I have 20/250 sight. By this standard, I am considered legally blind in my left eye. I can see shapes, colors, etcetera. But things are different. Everything is adjusted up and to the right. My depth perception is off in both eyes from this, meaning a flying object three feet away can see like six, or right about to hit me. The eye is nothing more than a peripheral, and not a very good one at that, for my forcibly dominant eye.

In the fall of 2010, I was playing a simple game of football at school. No tackle, no physical touch. Nothing more than a game. I adore sports, especially being active in them. During this game, nearly 1/2 or 3/4 of a football field, I had enough talent to catch a football with my face. I mean, come on, who else is just that awesome? Exactly. There was momentary pain as my glasses connected with my cheekbone and above my eye. No contact to my actual eye. Brushing it off, I rejoined the game.

You know when something is so slow you don't notice as it happens? This happened to me. Gradually, my vision left me. I paid no mind, didn't even realize until it was too late. In the spring, six months later, I had my annual exam for glasses. He left the room for what seemed like hours, but most likely only twenty minutes. His assistants returned with him and everyone wore a somber expression. Painstakingly, they told me I had something called a "Retinal Detachment". Without truly explaining, I was sent to a specialist the very next day.

Doctor Carmelina Gordon. A female Filipino who had patients coming from out of state to have her operate on them. She was a short woman at only five feet and I towered over her with my five foot seven height. Before I was allowed into her office, my eye had to be prepped. This included a quick vision test, eye pressure test, and the dilating of my pupil. Nearly an hour after arriving, my mother and I shuffled into the tiny room.

The retina is located at the back of the eye, on the inside. It is made of two separate layers so closely entangled you can barely tell the difference. A retinal detachment is when the retina detaches, obviously. This happens from pressure on the eye. In my case, it was pressure around the eye and only lasted a second. This was enough time, apparently. During this short time of pressure, the retina is forced away from the eye. Liquid can force the retina to bubble up, a movement akin to hair in the water. To truly sink home the thinness of the retina, think of a hard boiled egg. You have the shell, a thin film and then the egg white and yoke. The retina is like that tiny film. Retinal detachment is common in elderly patients and those with extreme nearsightedness. Being nearsighted causes the retina to be pulled tighter and become thinner.

ImageWithout the retina attached, you cannot see. The world is black. To fix this problem, my doctor recommended a scleral buckle. A ring of plastic. The eye would be cut in four places, like the corners of a square. The scleral buckle would then be threaded underneath the skin and sewed to the eye. Contrary to popular belief, the eye is not removed from the socket. For this procedure, the patient is under general anesthesia, where you are completely out. A nitrogen bubble is placed inside the eyeball, which will be absorbed over the course of [generally] two weeks. Depending on where the retina is detached, the patient must lay in a specific position. In my case, it was nearly upside down.

My first surgery was difficult. It happened the first week of March. The 7th to be exact. The doctor had edged around how much pain would be involved, most likely to not scare me. The first surgery was at the Ingham Regional Medical Center in Michigan, the state where I live. The hospital was not used to such surgeries, where a surgeon would come in. I was at the medical center for nearly twelve hours. The surgery took three, the recovery three, and the prep six.

All that was done during the prep time was the IV, dilating my pupils with drops, pressure tests, getting me into the hospital gown (only one size?) and hooking me up to machines. The whole thing should have taken less than an hour. Once the hospital finally did decide I was ready for surgery, six hours later, I was wheeled back to the surgery room. A pure white place filled with people wearing scrubs. Injecting the anesthesia into my IV, they had me count back from a hundred. I didn't make it to ninety-one before my eyes closed.

The next thing I remember hearing some old lady next to me ask, "What happened to her?" and a nurse replying, "This girl's been through a lot more than she should have been." Groggy, I blinked a couple of times and must have made a noise because the nurse turned to me and told me she was going to roll me over because of my eye. I remember being stubborn and doing it myself. Then I passed out.

The next time I came to, I was in my original room. My family was seated off to the side and I think my mother was crying. As I turned my head to look to the right, pain paralyzed me. My eye, it hurt, so bad. Tears welled to the surface and I cried out. My dad called for the nurse, who was already at my side. But she refused to give me pain killers. No, I would need to eat something first and THEN I would receive pain killers. The anesthesia in my stomach needed to be absorbed because, apparently, the anesthesiologist had given me nearly twice as much as he should have.

Sitting up was hard for me. I was light headed and nauseous, plus the world would not quit spinning. Try as I might, I could not eat the crackers she gave me. My mouth was too dry and they made me feel even worse. I was able to suck down a mouthful or two of water. In between tears and listening to my family tell me I needed to eat, I tried to explain how nauseated I felt and how the food only made me feel worse. Applesauce was retrieved and they forced me to eat. I could only cry and rock in a ball of pain. What little food I ate left my stomach in a hurry when they tried to have me stand.

Dressing was even more difficult. There was a patch over my left eye and I could barely stand. Walking out of the hospital, I remember leaning heavily on my mother. The helper at the door, who I had held a conversation with upon first entering, gave me a sympathetic look. Before the car had even left the parking lot, I was asleep in my cocoon of blankets.

The next day, I had a check-up at the doctors. My eyelashes had to be pried apart and my eye held open for the light. I didn't cry, but I tried to crack jokes that only ended up sounding pitiful and weak. My eye pressure, they said, was high. For this, I was given eye drops along with the eight (yes, eight!) to be given four times a day until the next appointment.

Every eye has pressure. Generally, they are around 13-17. Anything over or under can cause pain, headaches, nausea, etc. Extremely high and you can get glaucoma or become blind. After my first surgery, my eye pressure was twenty.

For the next two weeks, I was off of school. This time was spent upside down, literally. Every hour, I had ten minutes of free time. This was spent on bathroom breaks, eye drops, or eating. I even slept upside down.

The appearance of my eye was horrendous. The white part was red, not even bloodshot. Just red. Where they had cut around the lens was an off yellow. There was bruising and it looked like I had gotten into a fight at a bar; green, yellow and some pink.

Unfortunately, my retina still not reattach. To fix this, another surgery was necessary. This would thicken the scleral buckle which meant unstitching it, removing it, stitching the holes shut, and then doing the opposite within a centimeter away. Another nitrous oxide bubble would be placed inside my eye, to be absorbed and put pressure on the retina.

The second surgery was the worst and took place on the 17th of March. For humor, I wore green and asked the nurses not to pinch me "too hard". Unlike the first, it was at a surgery center. The IV took three tries to get it in and the prep time nearly an hour and a half. Like the first, I was under general anesthesia. The recovery time was shorter, only two hours. My eye had a patch. The nurses asked me on a scale one to ten, what the pain was (ten was dying). I told them thirteen. Unlike the medical center, I was given pain killers. When the pain was at a six, they released me. I was asleep before we left the parking lot.

My eye was so light sensitive. The nurses couldn't shine lights in my eyes and, in the office itself, I sat in the dark curled into a ball. This was the second time I cried. Doctor Gordon had to have the nurse hold my eye open so she could see the retina. My eye pressure was 26. I should have been in excruciating pain just from that, but the pressure had no effect on my eye.

Gruesome Picture :
Image
My eye earned me several dirty looks from elderly people. I looked like I had been in a fight, obviously.

The next appointment was scheduled for three weeks. During this time, I didn't leave the house. I was excused from school, again. Sixteen to eighteen hours a day, I slept and would have more if it wasn't necessary to have eye drops. The house had to be pitch black, because even the slightest light caused enormous pain. The Tylenol 3 they gave me was gone before my next appointment. When I'm in pain, I can't bring myself to eat. I was force-fed applesauce for a week because I was in so much pain. Between the second surgery date and the next appointment (a mere three weeks), I lost ten pounds. Gradually, things began to get better. There wasn't as much pain and I could withstand some light.

At the appointment, it was discovered that my retina was attached. Everyone was ecstatic! Finally! Only two surgeries later, one more than most people have. To be certain, my mother and I would return in a week.

My retina detached again. My doctor was running out of options. What else could we do if we had already done it and failed? In a last ditched effort, we agreed on another surgery. This one would be simply to place a gas bubble in my eye. The anesthesia would be regional, meaning I would be awake.

By now, I was so used to the prep. I was dehydrated, so my veins were smaller and the IV took three tries. They gave up after the first time in my arm, tried the back of my hand and THEN slid it in on the inside of my wrist, directly in line with my thumb.

The surgery itself was interesting and on the 9th of April. They knocked me for about five minutes or so, enough to actually prep prep me. I woke up to a plastic sheet over my head and people talking. I remember my doctor speaking with the nurses about Lady Gaga. There was pain and I asked for more medicine. The laser, the doctor said, was the most painful part. Most of the medicine did not kick in until after I was wheeled out.

I still don't understand why people like the feeling of the world spinning.

Without the use of general anesthesia, my body bounced back a lot faster. I was up and moving the next day. Felt almost zero pain and even managed to laugh with the nurses. They said I should have been screaming in agony because my eye pressure was thirty-two. Thirty six is generally when glaucoma starts. My retina was reattached, but we were careful anyways.

During all of my surgeries, I had a weight limit of fifteen pounds. I was not able to bend over or move my head too fast. After recovery, I was able to go back to school in time for exams. All in all, I was out of school since the end of February into the third week of April.

A year later, March 2012, the doctor discovered a cataract growing inside my eye.

A cataract is the forming of a "cloud" over the lens of the eye. Mine was formed from the scar tissue of my retina. A cataract is dealt with by a surgery where the lens is removed and replaced with a fake one. This lens is generally opposite the other eye. Example, if you have a nearsighted eye and a cataract, they will give you a farsighted lens. This is so the individual does not have double vision. The lens has a set number on the vision scale. Once the cataract is removed, is does not return.

The surgery was easy. I was awake for it and no anesthesia was used. Instead, the surgery center gave my eye a shot. An IV was necessary for emergencies. There was zero pain during the surgery. After, the nurses couldn't explain why I had pain. I WALKED out of the surgery center. The same day, I was up and moving. The recovery was swift. I only had to wear a patch for four hours.

There was still some left over clouding. "gook" for the lack of a better word. This will be taken care of on the 27th of this month, merely three days away. The surgery will be in the office and with a laser. Something that should not take more than fifteen minutes. They are uncertain how this will effect my vision, given I remained legally blind even though they gave me a non-blind lens.

I don't know if I'm scared, apprehensive, or excited.

I'm waiting on my vision to be as it once was. It will never be any better, except for maybe minor changes. I don't want perfect vision. I don't even want my vision to be as it once was. It's just that sometimes, learning new things can be difficult. I have to learn how to adjust, that is all. It's just that... sometimes, if I'm not paying attention, I'll have to look twice at something to be sure how it really looks.

I'm waiting. But not expecting.
"This is Common"
"This is Vani"

I am interested in learning new languages. If you are interested in teaching your language, please contact me. Thank you.
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Lixue
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[Lixue's Scrapbook]I Whip My Cane Back and Forth

Postby Gossamer on July 24th, 2012, 7:48 pm

.
Response


I always love reading your scrapbook and wish there were more posts. I think you charmed me first of all with your descriptions of your pets, especially your appaloosa mare - I felt I knew all about her once you wrote about her. This last one just broke my heart. I can't image going through that. Thank you for sharing so much of yourself with us. I won't offer words of encouragement because they would sound empty and hollow. I'm just glad you have the spirit you do. It really floors me when it comes through in your writing.
.
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[Lixue's Scrapbook]I Whip My Cane Back and Forth

Postby Lixue on September 30th, 2012, 9:37 pm

Simply because this amuses me.

Shakespearean Insult Kit :
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"This is Common"
"This is Vani"

I am interested in learning new languages. If you are interested in teaching your language, please contact me. Thank you.
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[Lixue's Scrapbook]I Whip My Cane Back and Forth

Postby Lixue on October 6th, 2012, 11:02 pm

Death
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Lifespan:
1997- October 1, 2012


Death has a way of sneaking up on a person. One moment life is inhaled and exhaled from the lungs and the next the only thing left is a corpse; a shell of a person who once was. The harsh cycle of life ends with death and this can be a hard reality for some to grasp. Others may find the idea as a final step, something to be completed in time. To truly understand the notion of death, one must first be subjected to it. Once an individual is subjected to death, they never forget the experience and the last-effects. Living on a farm, I have been exposed to death for my whole life, but none of the incidents remain in my mind like the day when my dog, Butter, had to be put down and how I learned to accept death.

Leaning down, I pushed a cold hand into Butter’s fur, taking comfort in the familiar roughness. Glancing up at me with trusting brown eyes, Butter leaned against my leg and let out a weary sigh. Butter had aged well during her fifteen years but the last few were a struggle and it showed. Grey hairs mingle with blonde, small tumors showered her face and her joints needed a good oiling to continue working. I idly scratched her floppy ear as I thought back to Butter and my relationship.

Butter was adopted into my family only a year after my birth. The over-excited Labrador became attached to the gurgling girl who constantly toddled after her. Only when the I caught her did Butter allow the me to pull on her ears and tail with fascination. How did such body parts exist? The Labrador endured the slightly too hard yanks because she loved me and adored washing my face with her rough tongue. As the years passed, Butter and I became closer. Long hours were spent at the pond. I would throw the toy and Butter would launch into the water with a splash before fetching the toy. I would take off running, giggling all of the way, from Butter and the pond. Butter chased me, only stopping when I gave up, shaking her excess water off onto me.

Glancing down at the animal that had been in my life since I was at a tender age, I ignored the salty liquid threatening to pour from my eyes. Today, Butter was to be put down. I mentally denied that fact, trying to hold onto her life until the last possible second. Pain made my heart hurt. I was losing my best friend. Butter happily thumped her tail on the deck, tongue snapping out to lick my knee. A sob caught in my throat at her constant optimism.

No matter the time of day, Butter was always excited to see someone. She would grab her metal dish and run circles around them, silently asking for attention and/or food. Butter was never the type of dog to be left behind and enjoyed doing activities with the family. Even if she truly did not help at the task! Would she be excited to see the person who would stop her heart?

Nothing would be the same without my dog. In the back of my mind, I was aware of Butter pushing to her feet. The task took some effort and several minutes passed before Butter was able to stand steady. Waddling over to the stairs, she tumbled down them instead of stepping down. A wince slid over my features; I felt every bit of discomfort that rocketed through her body with the movements. A tear slid down my cheek and I swiped it away with the back of my hand.

Living longer would only cause Butter more pain and no creature should live a life of agony. It would be incredibly selfish to keep her alive simply because she was my best friend, my pet, my adopted relative. Even as I tried to convince myself death would be a better place for her, a voice in the back of my mind whispered, the best place she could be is with you. You could make her better. Besides, would you want someone to put you down simply because they could not stand the sight of your pain?

As the tears started to fall in earnest, I watched my dog come back to me like a boomerang. We were a pair and being without each other just did not work. I struggled with the decision, trying to back out and knowing I could not. Keeping her alive for my own selfish reasons would be animal cruelty in my mind.

“Are you ready?” mum asked quietly, poking her head out the back door.

No… my mind screamed but my body responded with a jerky nod. Voice trembling and tears freely falling, I called my dog to her death.

Every life must end sooner or later. The harsh cycle of life demands it. Though I was not ready for my dog to be put down, I accepted the fact and came to realize death was a better place for her. Throughout my life, I have been exposed to death too often. None of those experiences stick in my mind or made such a lasting impact on my view of death, as when my dog, Butter, had to be put down.
"This is Common"
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Lixue
The Amputator
 
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Joined roleplay: January 9th, 2012, 3:30 pm
Location: Avanthal
Race: Human, Mixed
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