Friday, January 29, 2010

Gabriella 1992-2010


Ballet, Piddle-Kitten, Boo-boo Girl, Gabriella-Just-So. She had a lot of nick names, but she was first and foremost, Gabriella. Her origins were dodgy. One day in January 1993, I received a call at work from HeWhoShallNotBeNamed*. There were these two kittens that someone found outside and there were people who were willing to take one cat or the other, but not two together, and he thought they really should stay together, can he bring them home?

I "reasoned" to myself: we already have three cats. One more isn't much work and really two more is just a little more work than one..."OK, bring them both."

When I came home there were two kittens in a cardboard box. Gabriella was a brown and black tabby with the cutest white paws that looked like she was wearing slippers. She looked up at me with her big green eyes and started meowing. "She's talkative," I said. Some how "talky" became "gabby" but that didn't sound dignified. So "gabby" became "Gabriella" and it instantly seemed like the perfect name.

Friendliest of the bunch, she would jump up on visitors and paw at them until they gave her the attention she craved. She loved teaser toys and chased them long into her senior years. She overcame diabetes and accepted blood tests and insulin shots with grace and dignity. When I was in nursing school, she loved to sit right next to me on the couch as I studied or wrote up care plans. She loved to be brushed and groomed. Just the site of the comb and she would come running and purring and nuzzle you until you brushed her.

She and Bijoux were engaged in a love affair. Many times I came home to find them curled up together on the couch or the bed. The sound of the door would wake them out of their sleepy rapture and they would through a guilty glance at me before one or both of them would jump off the bed...the spell broken.

Late last year, we started noticing that Gabriella was walking into us or not getting out of our way like she used to. She also wasn't responding to her teaser toys. I brought her to her vet who immediately suspected retinopathy related to high blood pressure. We took her to the specialty vet, who confirmed the original diagnosis. We started her on a course of blood pressure medication and her sight was restored within a few weeks.

Early this month, she started vomiting and having diarrhea and wouldn't eat. We went back to the vet and what I suspected was confirmed, lymphoma. We started her on prednisone, prilosec, and metronidazole to help control the diarrhea. We also started her on fluids. Her appetite was restored after a few days. She went back to eating her old food if it was watered down into a slurry. She did very well for a couple of weeks until this past weekend, when she stopped eating and stared throwing up blood tinted vomit. I made an appointment with her vet on Tuesday morning. On Monday night, she still would not eat. Out of desperation, I offered her ice cream. She ate it. I gave her milk, she lapped up two cap fulls and then would not eat any more. She walked back to the bedroom and crawled under the bed.

On Tuesday, I woke up at 4am to the sound of Gabriella breathing. She was under my side of the bed. I went to the floor and checked her. I knew what was happening. I put my hand on her to let her know I was there. She left us at 6am.

She was a companion of mine for almost 18 years, traveling from wherever she came from in New York to New Jersey to Pennsylvania. I can still remember the first time I saw her sitting up straight and tall, with her white paws in perfect alignment with her chin and I thought "well doesn't she look prim and proper and just so?"

She was precious and we miss her.
*A former companion.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Pearls of Wisdom*

Grab a cuppa and make yourself comfortable for this one, we're going to be here a while. So we are back in the saddle again looking for a house. Among the many things that nobody tells you when you are home shopping is that you probably won't get the first house you bid on, something hinky will happen with at least one of your deals, your realtor may go MIA for a week with no explanation, and there will be wackos. If none of these things have happened to you, then you must live in some alternative universe from which I don't know. I share the following with you as not just a warning, but as a counter experience to those flowery house shopping shows on the home porn channel where at the end of every show, someone is joyfully moving into their very own home.

Take a picture of this: We met Gene at an open house. We were not interested in the house but we got along with Gene. He was low pressure, affable and most importantly, Mr. DS related to him. We exchanged contact information and within a day, we were receiving matches out of the MLS. Within a week, we had our "first date" to see if we could work together. During that first showing, I expected that he would present us with a contract. He did not. Instead, he showed us our Consumer Rights and when I inquired about a contract, he stated that he didn't require one until we wanted to bid on a house. Seemed fair enough, we didn't really see any harm. If he was willing to show us houses, we would certainly give him the contract if he showed us one we wanted to buy. And he did. After a couple of weeks of looking we settled on a cape with fabulous plaster walls, hardwood floors, original built-ins, and a separate office space over a two car garage. Needless to say, the deal went hinky. The seller got greedy and we backed away from the deal. Gene tried to save the deal, but he understood that we felt the seller wasn't dealing in good faith. We were deflated, disappointed and emotionally drained. Since it was so close to Christmas, we all decided to take a holiday break, rethink our options and resume after the new year.

In the first week of January, I emailed Gene and explained that since there was so little to choose from in the area where we had been searching, we decided to look in another, adjacent county and would he be willing to continue to work with us in that area? His response was that there certainly was more inventory to choose from, provide him a starting point and he would get back to us. I did so. A day passed. Three days passed. A week and still no word from Gene. This was not like him, he was usually very prompt in getting back to us. Maybe he had decided he didn't want to work with us after all. I recalled him telling me that if I were to stop returning calls and emails, he would take the hint.

I raised the possibility to Mr. DS that Gene had abandoned us and maybe we should talk to another realtor. "What about the woman who sold your condo?" I asked. "Is she still in business?" Mr. DS mused. "Yes she is," I said. "I Googled her and she has a web site and everything. Do you have any issues with getting in touch with her?"

Pearl responded quickly. She remembered Mr. DS and was pleased that we thought to contact her. We spoke via conference call to make arrangements to meet the following Sunday morning. As soon as I got off the phone with her, Gene called. He apologized profusely for not being in touch, but he had a military family on housing leave and he had been totally involved with them. I told him I understood, but I was disappointed that he didn't let me know what was going on. I thought he had dropped us. After all we had no contract with him and there were no mutual obligations. But I did let him know that we were talking to other realtors. Then he admitted that he would continue to work with us if that was what we wanted, he honestly felt more comfortable showing homes on his "side of the river". That was fair. The parting was friendly. In the mean time, I relayed our story to different friends and some were kind enough to recommend their agents. I thought this time it might be useful to talk to a couple of people before settling down to one.

On a rainy Sunday morning, we met Pearl at at real estate office which she claimed she never really used, but was a mutually convenient meeting place. She was assertive, with a good handshake and eye contact, but there was something about her energy that made me nervous. We exchanged pleasantries and then she asked us to tell her a little more about what we were looking for. While we were talking, she never stopped playing with her hair, fiddling with her hands or fidgeting in her seat. Her first response was, "there's not a lot of activity in that area, is there anywhere else you're interested in?" I sat back a little. I knew people who lived in that area and by their report, there were many properties available at all price ranges. We explained why we were looking in that area…that our previous deal had fallen through and that the new area had many of the same qualities as the old area, but seemed to have more inventory.

After more conversation, she explained the way she worked. She told us that Gene was wrong for not insisting we sign a contract with him, that it was unethical to wait until we wanted to make an offer on the house before entering into a contract, that she always has a contract with her clients; she said that she was an excellent negotiator and that she could absolutely get the best price for us. Then she asked us if we had any questions and I asked her how comfortable she was showing us homes in the area we discussed. She responded, "I can sell anywhere. With the internet, anything I don't know about a place, I can look up." And then she proceeded to show me her iPhone and how it had an app for the MLS and that she was always available via text and Twitter. And while I don't disagree that the internet has opened up a world of information to us mere mortals trying to buy a house, I wondered how you could find equivalent neighborhoods on the internet…and I'm not just talking price, it's about the feel of a place, how well the homes are kept, if the people who live there like to park on the street, even though they have driveways and garages, if the road is very busy at rush hour because it's a popular cut through for people trying to avoid busy main roads. Those are qualitative aspects that only a person who knows an area can help you with. She handed us her contract and suggested that we look it over, think about more questions and get back to her. She was always happy to answer questions.

Look it over we did. What she did not explain was that she handed us an exclusive contract. She never explained the difference between the exclusive and non-exclusive contract - never even brought up the existence of a non-exclusive contract. She also never offered to set us up on her MLS, which I have noted is a courtesy that many realtors do even after the most casual of contact. She offered us her web site, which was a front end to the MLS. We could search by price and by county, but we could not narrow by city or school district which is invaluable since you can search many towns within a region. And when you got results back, if you looked at the Details View of a house on page 5 and clicked "Return to Search Results", the page took you back to the beginning of the search results and now I had to remember what page I was on. Mr. DS noted this too. Plus the "details" had no real information, such as tax records. "Ok" I thought to myself, "annoying, but not a deal breaker." I emailed more questions: how do I get more information if I see a property I like, are you available to show homes on weekends when we are both available, would distance be a problem, do you feel comfortable handing short sales? I asked this specifically, not because we are terribly interested in short sales, but because Gene steered us away from short sales. Now I know that is a loaded term, but when I asked about short sale properties Gene would specifically say that he didn't think we should look at them and simply didn't make those appointments. So that was "steering" in the real estate sense of the word and I know it's not supposed to be done, and I was willing to forgive Gene for that because he made up for it in with his other qualities. I also asked Pearl if she would be comfortable with a 3 month contract instead of a 6 month contract. There was something about her that made me uneasy. It might have been her general twitchiness, it might have been her disregard for our concern about her lack of knowledge about the area, something about her didn't feel right to me even though I had no doubt that she would be formidable in a negotiation.

Pearl did call us back about my email and answered my questions. But what really put me off were the following: When I raised concerns that we might need the expertise of a local realtor, her response was that a local realtor had a vested interest in keeping the price of a property high, because they probably lived in the area and wanted to see the property values remain high. That didn't ring true to me. Doesn't she have a vested interest in keeping a price high since she gets a cut of the sale price? Then she chided Mr. DS for not calling her first, "I'm really surprised that you didn't call me when you started looking for a house. Why didn't you contact me first?" Where did that come from? Why would you put a prospective client on the defensive? We didn't plot to exclude her, we were calling her now, didn't that count? I ended the call by saying, "Full disclosure, we are interviewing another realtor so once I talk to that person, I will let you know what we decide." In the mean time, I was thinking that we really needed to talk to another realtor.

I contacted Bonnie, a realtor recommended by friends who had just bought a house and spoke with her on the phone for about 40 minutes. She had a totally different vibe. She was hearing what I told her, she was professional, she asked if I was aware of and understood the differences between the different kinds of buyer-broker contracts. I asked about what her expectations were from us and about what kinds of transactions she was comfortable handling. She did not talk about the other realtor and what he may or may not have done wrong. She talked about what she was able to do for her clients in relation to what I had told her. Her next question was to ask if she could set me up in her MLS and start sending us leads on properties. "What?" I thought to myself, "without a contract?". I felt a little more at ease with Bonnie. She promptly started sending listings and we decided to spend a day checking out some of the neighborhoods. After spending the entire Saturday in the car, Mr. DS and I broached the realtor situation. Given the fact that we really did not know the areas where we were looking and that there was so much inventory, I felt that we really should be working with someone local. Mr. DS agreed. Now I had to tell Pearl we would not be working with her.

Monday morning, bright and early, there was an email from Pearl asking if we had spoken to "the other person" and come to a decision. I crafted a carefully worded response that we appreciated her time but we would felt more comfortable going with a local realtor because of our lack of familiarity with the area. If things changed for us, we would certainly keep her in mind. Maybe that was what pissed her off, because within an hour, I received what could only be described as a screed. She opened by telling us "thanks but no thanks". She was actually going to suggest that we should go with the other realtor because we were taking so long (4 days) to decide. First Pearl of Wisdom: just go with whoever waves a contract in your face. After all, it's not as if you're going to be spending a lot of time with this person or sharing sensitive information with them.

After reviewing our situation, she "would not consider working with (us) in the future" because we had not demonstrated "loyalty" to the other realtor and had "refused to sign a contract with him". Second Pearl of Wisdom: if after combing the same 10 mile radius for weeks you don't find a home, you're disloyal if you decide to change locations but still contact your first realtor and give them the option to work with you in the new area. You are also disloyal if the first realtor doesn't ask for a contract and you agree to that. For the record, when we did make an offer on a house, Gene had a signed, exclusive contract. For the record, you're also disloyal if your realtor goes MIA for over a week and you would still consider working with him.

Her displeasure with us mounted: We clearly did not know what we wanted because we changed locations and we asked about short sales. Third Pearl of Wisdom: No matter how little inventory there is in an area and no matter how much sense it may make for you to look in another location, you shouldn't do that because then it looks like "you don't know what you want". Also don't ask about short sales, even if the realtor sends them to you from the MLS. Because first, that's considered "jumping from one thing to another" and second, "they are not realistic for your price range". Never mind that they are included in the search that the realtor set up for you.

Her final complaint against us was that we did not "understand the value that a realtor provides". Fourth Pearl of Wisdom: If the value a realtor provides includes discouraging a client from looking in a particular location, putting a client on the defensive, not providing full disclosure about all the kinds of arrangements that are available between buyers and brokers, and providing a buggy piece of software with which to perform crippled searches of the MLS, then no, I guess I don't understand the value she provides.

What is wrong with people? Lots of folks have not hired me and while I may have felt or even known they were making a mistake, in business, relationships matter. You can't just vent your spleen at someone when they don't behave the way you want. For one thing, it's rude. But for another, you never know where your next job is coming from. Despite the casual nature with which he conducts his business, I could in good conscience recommend Gene as an expert in his region and an excellent resource in general. On the other hand, I think Pearl needs help. She's very angry about something and it's not just about me not hiring her. The final Pearl of Wisdom is: follow your gut and dodge a bullet.

*Gene, Pearl and Bonnie are all aliases.

Friday, January 15, 2010

My Heart Does Not Leap for Joy


At some point during nursing school, I actually noticed my heart and it wasn't after the scant exercise I was able to steal from my schedule. I'd be sitting in class and feel a "thud", as though my heart was jumping up into my throat. It never happened more than once at at time, but it might happen several times within an hour, so much so that I would notice it. But there was no pain and it never happened during strenuous activity, so I didn't give it a second thought.

Then it started happening after a glass of wine or two. Drinking alcohol has always disturbed my sleep, but I noticed that when I woke up after drinking and falling asleep, the heart-thud thing was there, more intense and uncomfortable to the point where I could not fall back to sleep.

At work, I noticed it would happen in conjunction with other symptoms I would loosely call panic. And that was very uncomfortable. I have heard people describe cardiac symptoms in conjunction with panic attacks, but I never felt panic until I started working as a nurse. These episodes were minor, really. I felt confused, light headed, unable to "process" what was being said to me, felt like I was going to fall over. Yes... lovely and safe. I would excuse myself for 15 minutes until I could talk myself down. But the heart-thud thing was still there.

I finally got sick of it after Thanksgiving when the symptoms were really interfering with my ability to enjoy the spirits of the season. I finally went to the doctor and sheepishly described my symptoms. Very matter-of-factly she said "Let's draw some blood and do a Holter monitor study."

Holter monitors were something I had seen on patients. Members of my own family have had studies done. I was hoping it was just reflux. But apparently, I have reached an age when any cardiac symptoms result in action.

A Holter monitor is a small, portable device that measures the electrical activity of your heart in order to determine if you're having abnormal heart rhythms. Electrodes are attached to your skin, the electrodes are attached to a recorder that is no bigger than an 80's vintage beeper. You wear the recording device for 24 hours, going about your day, but writing down your activities. So if you climb three flights of steps to do laundry, you write it down. You also write down the time you feel your symptoms and what activity you were performing when you felt them. I diligently recorded my activities and symptoms and turned in the device on the following day.

About a week later, my doctor called with the results. "I think you are fine, but you did have some abnormal rhythms, which is normal for healthy people but I really think it would be best to have a cardiologist review the results and evaluate you." Huh. "So you're saying I'm fine, but I should see a specialist?" I reiterated. "Yes. I'll make a referral for you," she said.

One New Years Eve later and I am sitting in the office of a cardiologist. I'm not a person who runs to a doctor with a hangnail. I've got enough medical background to handle most garden variety illnesses. But here I am, sitting in a cardiologist's office. A few minutes later, I am in an exam room with a nurse getting my history, taking my (very low) blood pressure and running an EKG on me. Nothing abnormal during the EKG. Woo hoo.

Finally the doc comes in and introduces himself. He gets more of my history, does a thorough physical exam rivaling what we learned in nursing school (and have yet to see again). Then he proceeds to sit down with my reading and shows me where my PVCs are. PVCs are premature ventricular contractions. It just means that the electrical impulses of the heart are initiated from a part of the heart other than from where they are "supposed" to be initiated. It's normal when it doesn't happen more than once at a time. He ruled out a thyroid or any electrolyte imbalance as a cause due to my blood work. He suggested it could be "hormonal", as women of a "certain" age often report palpitations. He suggested limiting alcohol, avoiding any decongestants and continuing to exercise, as a conditioned heart is a healthy heart.

What I came away with is that I am "of that certain age" where I can't count on my body to just do what it does without asking me to take notice. In my case, it doesn't want alcohol, it doesn't want paralyzing stress and it needs exercise. Message received.