Any PORT In A Storm

Well, guess what?  Tomorrow that lucky, lucky Goatmother gets to visit the World's Greatest Surgeon again!  Why, you ask?  Well, the Goatmother is getting a PORT put in.  This will be so they can give her the chemotherapy treatments better.  She is a little apprehensive because, well, who wouldn't be?  I mean I know I would be.  After all, it is something new and different and it doesn't involve Peanuts.  However, one of the GoatNeighbors reminded the Goatmother that receiving such a thing obviously meant that she was a very 'PORTant person. 

I think that makes a lot of sense.  As a result, I have been doing a bit of contemplation in this regard, and I believe I have come to some very imPORTant conclusions.  First of all, this will provide the Goatmother with a very convenient PORT of Entry and she won't even be asked for a passPORT.  And naturally, it will be very PORTable since she will be taking it with her everywhere she goes.  It is quite clear this is a great opPORTunity.

Now we don't have a scheduled dePORTation date and we think it likely the Goatmother will be sPORTing it for a whole year.  I mean you just never know when such a thing might prove convenient.  Just as long as they don't decide to put in a PORT-a-potty, I think we might be okay.   Although, come to think of it, that might prove to be kind of convenient as well.

At any rate, today the Goatmother and Goatfather got to meet the Nutritionist!  They had nothing but wonderful things to say about this woman and she simply has to be the best because she even consented to have her picture taken.  Now how many nutritionists do you know that are ready, willing and able to be on a goat's blog?  I think I might even consider sharing a few of my Peanuts with her.  I wonder if she does goat nutrition consulting?  She may even know things like where the choicest Peanuts are grown and what kind of terroir produces the best quality.  You just never know until you ask.  I guess that's true in a lot of respects, come to think of it.

“There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tower high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.” - J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

Observation

 

There is a lushness in the landscape this year.

Or is it just that I am seeing it with new eyes?

Surprise!, Surprise!, Surprise!

Remember the remarkable lady at Eden Hills who is responsible for the fantastic 'Butt the Hay Out Of Cancer' buttons, and her equally remarkable mother, responsible for that exquisite likeness of myself ?  As if that weren't enough, Teresa has now made it possible to get T-shirts with the logo!  (And remember, part of the proceeds will go to Cancer Research!)  How wonderful is that?!  Over in the side bar, you will now find a link to her fabulous store on Zazzle.com, and, by the way, she has some other really nice products including some of the wonderful photos she takes.  (Okay.  End of shameless promotion.)  If you click on the 'Marigold and the Goatmother' T-shirt link, it will show you a variety of styles and prices.  One size definitely does not fit all. :)  Thank you, Teresa, yet again.  I am, however,  beginning to wonder if the Goatmother is EVER going to stop crying.  Oh, well, I'll just be sure to insinuate myself even MORE up front and center when she passes out the Peanuts.  After all,  I know how much she enjoys giving me Peanuts, and I do so want to present her with things she enjoys.  Aren't I the most thoughtful goat ever???

P.S. - By the way, Zazzle just happens to be having a 20% off Memorial Day sale going on today.  So if you are interested, now is the time!

And The Beat Goes On

I'm sure you've all been wondering what has happened to Marigold and the Goatmother, eh?  Well, all I can say is remember that post about life getting in the way?  Yep.  It still is ... getting in the way, I mean.  Come to think of it, there is probably a much better analogy than simply getting in the way.  Something more along the lines of  'Slow Moving Vehicle.  Be Prepared to Stop!', or  'Bridge Out.  Detour!', or maybe  my very favorite:

(Source:  Austintatious)

Anyway, we managed to add a few more pieces to the puzzle this week.  The Goatmother will be starting chemotherapy June 11th.  It will consist of 4 treatments, 3 weeks apart, for a total of 12 weeks.  Well, that  isn't so bad, and honestly, we expected a lot worse.  Plus, we are going to get that part out of the way.  That has always been the Goatmother's motto:  'Let's just do it and get it out of the way.'  This will be followed by radiation, but we aren't absolutely certain about how long that will be yet.  That will be discussed in Tuesday's meeting with the Radiation Oncologist.

On the upside, the Cancer Center, here,  is a wonderful place.  No, really, it is.  It is filled with the greatest people, from the receptionists on down, and we feel very lucky.  The Goatmother's Medical Oncologist is top notch and her R.N., well, we just can't say enough good about her.  (Plus the R.N. likes goats and has already been here to have a look-see.  I'd say that is irrefutable proof.  Now, if she just likes Peanuts ...).

So, the Goatmother is going to lose her hair.  If you ask me, it isn't very good hair in the first place, so no great loss.  Besides, I lose hair every summer and, well, it isn't that big a deal.  Plus all those goats that go to shows, like my friends over at Herron Hill, get shaved for that event.  Maybe we'll just send the Goatmother on over and let the GoatFarmer get her all prepped.  She could end up a winner.  Stranger things have happened.  I wonder if they have an 'Old Broads' class?

And, Oh, goody!  We get to have a 'port'!  I don't think this is the wine stuff, although the Goatmother could likely use that these days.  This is more the 'door' type.  Oh!  Maybe it is like the Twilight Zone!  You know, "You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension— a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into the Twilight Zone."  I hope our beloved surgeon is prepared.

So I think that is where we stand up to now.  I think.  There certainly is a LOT to assimilate.  I may have to go stand on my stump awhile (with a few Peanuts, of course.  Brain food, you know.) and try to make some sense out of it.  On the other hand, maybe I'll just go have the Peanuts.  Stay tuned and thanks for coming along on this wild ride.

" I will take it! 

I will take the Ring to Mordor! 

... Though... I do not know the way." - Frodo

Butt the Hay Out Of Cancer Buttons

GoatGirl has asked where to get a button, so I have posted a link in the side bar for anyone interested. This is all thanks to the wonderful Teresa and Millie at Eden Hills, and part of the proceeds will go to Breast Cancer Research. Thank you, Teresa, and thank you GoatGirl for asking!

World's Greatest Surgeon!

You will notice she is wearing a 'Butt the Hay Out of Cancer' button.  What can we say?  We LOVE this woman!  'Nuff said!

What We've Learned So Far

Well, you know you can't go on a journey such as this one and not learn a few things in the process.  As a matter of fact, I suspect by the time all is said and done we'll have learned quite a number of things.  It's really good the Goatmother isn't a Nubian.  I'm just sayin' ...  Anyway, this week is going to be quite a busy one.  The first three days are already filled with appointments.  What a popular gal that Goatmother is, eh? So, who the hay knows when I might get back here to post.  And now that I think of it, let me just say that I am trying to keep up with reading and commenting on blogs, but if, per chance, I miss it somewhere along the way,
please know that I'm still with you in spirit.

Now then, allow me to get on with the title of this post because, after all, it is getting on in the day and soon it will be time for Peanuts.  One simply does NOT miss Peanut time.  It just isn't done.  So, okay.  Things we've learned so far:

1)  People and goats are friggin' AMAZING!   Please pardon my verbiage, although I suppose technically friggin' isn't a bad word.  It's just that nothing else even comes close to fitting.  You see one reads the newspaper and listens to the news, and all that is presented is the negative stuff.  Mostly.  Someone robbed a bank, some goat ate the neighbor's topiary, someone murdered someone, some goat butted the postman.  It is enough to make one lose faith in the existence of goodness.  But let me tell you, those news agencies do everyone an injustice.  They sensationalize the few bad Alpine... uh, err ... apples out there until we begin to think that is all that exists.  But it isn't true.  The truth is that people and goats are kind, generous and giving.  Always ready to lend a hand and a good butt.  They are willing to go the extra mile, and yes, even give the extra Peanut.  Yes, there are a few exceptions, but honestly, contrary to what we are 'fed', those few are just that.  The few.  The minority.  No. 1 is the most awesome of the things we have learned thus far and will likely remain so.   I think most of us already know this, we just get duped into forgetting and need to be reminded every once in awhile.  Let's hope it doesn't take a ball bat.

2)  Life is what happens while you are waiting for your email program to actually send your mail.  This one is major.  I mean do you actually know how many things you could get done if you weren't waiting on your email to get sent?  Or even for your email to get downloaded?  Entire corporate take-overs have happened in less time.  Grass grows faster.  Oy.

3)  Imagination can be like fine art on drugs.  I mean think about it.  Imagination can be a good thing.  It can lead you to dream impossible dreams, which in turn can help you achieve impossible tasks.  But it can also lead you impossibly astray.  Left to its own devices, imagination can paint impossibly horrid scenes worthy of Rodin's Gates of  Hell.  But most of the time, what it paints is far worse than reality ever thought about being.  So why doesn't it ever work the other way?  Why doesn't it ever paint you pictures of Wonderland, or Oz, or Peanuts?  Oh, wait.  Maybe that last one wasn't a very good example, but you understand where I'm going with this, right?  Given any 'Problem A' , it soon becomes a case of  'This is your imagination on drugs'.  Curb it.

4)  Healing is like breathing ... you can't just breathe out.  Someone told the Goatmother this a long time ago.  Trouble is it has taken her all these years to actually understand what it means.  (Did I say, before, it's a good thing the Goatmother isn't a Nubian?  Maybe I ought to reconsider that statement.)  The Goatmother has always been one to give to others.  It's how she is.  But when it came to herself, well, I suppose she was often not as kind to herself as she was to others.  Plus, somehow, she always seemed to feel as though accepting help was some sort of sign of weakness. Well, you know what?  It ain't.  And that is how healing is like breathing.  If you just keep giving, eventually you run out of air.  Life is about balance.  It is about giving AND receiving.  Breathing in.  Anything one-sided is, well, lop-sided.  There is no shame or weakness in doing both.  It is what keeps life flowing through all things.

5) (And this is likely THE most important thing learned so far)  ALWAYS be sure you have at least one presentable pair of underwear.  Being a goat, I'm not all that familiar with the reasoning here, but the Goatmother assures me this is highly important.  One just never knows.  My question is this - why is underwear a 'pair'?

So, okay.  We're off and running.  Who knows where the road shall lead?  But wherever it does, thanks ever so much for coming along.  You may be far away and scattered to the ends of the earth, but your presence is felt like a massive stronghold.   Thank you.

Hurry Up And Wait

What are you going to do?  The wheels of Medicine don't really move much faster than the wheels of Justice and we all know how slow those are.  So to pass the time, the Universe supplied the Goatmother with a rash in order to occupy her time.  As near as we can tell, it seems to have occurred courtesy of the surgical scrub, which just happens to have been the same thing she was given as a pre-surgery wash and to use after surgery.  Oh, my, such intense itching.  I fully expected to see the Goatmother scraping along the fences like a goat trying to get rid of a winter undercoat.  Thankfully the neighbors were spared and she stayed confined to the house.  Just let me say this:  a rainbow of blessings on the makers of Benadryl.  They may never know what they have done for the world.

But today, the surgeon called with the pathology report.  There was some very good news and some not so good news.  The good news is that the cancer was deemed Stage 1.  It was caught early and there was absolutely no sign of cancer cells in the lymph nodes.  The bad news is that the cancer was neither estrogen nor progesterone receptive.  We aren't exactly sure what that means.  I could have already told them the Goatmother ran out of hormones a long time ago.   But the surgeon did say this indicates  the cancer was very aggressive and thus chemotherapy will likely be required.  Oh, shoot.  We were hoping to avoid that part, but well, it is what it is, as they say.  It's all good, remember?.  Or maybe not, but at least it is doable.  Bald is beautiful, just ask the Goatfather.

I'd like to quote something that our friend, Mrs. Micawber, wrote to the Goatmother.  "In The Return of the King - when Gandalf and Pippin are standing on the balcony at Minas Tirith, looking across at the dark mountains and the smoky sky of Mordor, talking of the battle ahead. Gandalf says, "This is the deep breath before the plunge." (And Pippin replies, "I don’t want to be in a battle.  But waiting on the edge of one I can’t escape is even worse.")  None of us who haven't been through it can imagine what you're feeling right now, but we're standing on the balcony, taking the deep breath with you. Hang in there, and know that the thoughts and prayers of your friends go with you into the fight."  How beautiful is that?  (In fact, I couldn't have said it better myself - or maybe I could, but I didn't think of it.)

The fact of the matter is that once you receive that diagnosis; once your ears hear those words, it is with you forever.  Your life changes in an instant and you know that even though you make it through the initial battle, the threat of war is ever present from then on.  Not a pleasant thought, that, but luckily human beings are pretty resilient.  (Goats are better, but that's probably just because we have more legs and better eyesight.  Plus there is that ever-present lure of the Peanut ...)  And isn't the Goatmother lucky to have such wonderful friends?

Frodo: "I know what I must do, it's just that... I'm afraid to do it."
Galadriel : "Even the smallest person can change the course of the future." 

A Window of Hope

Thank you, Snowcatcher.  (I'm going to have to get a better vocabulary ...)

The Aftermath ...

Before I get carried away, (Carried away?  Who me?) allow me to express a heartfelt Happy Mother's Day! to all of you who care for and nourish children, husbands, mothers, relatives, charges, fur babies - even plants!  You are ALL mothers, so Happy Day to you!

Now then, here we are two days after the fact.  Today we get to take a look at the damage.  Can't say as we are really looking forward to it, but remember, 'It's ALL good!'  The giant, economy-sized ACE bandage slipped a little during the night and the Goatmother got a glimpse of things to come.  Now she wants to be called FrankenGoatmother.  I swear, by the time this is over, that woman is going to have so many aliases she will be able to join the CIA!  Oy.

At any rate, other mysterious marks have surfaced.  Numerous little red spots on one hand, strange red orbs on one knee.  We suspect Alien abduction.  After all, the Goatfather and the Goatneighbor were in that little room, and the Goatmother was gone for hours.  She doesn't remember any bright lights, but then she doesn't remember much of anything.  Come to think of it, her memory wasn't all that good before, so double jeopardy.  We may never know, but "I'm more certain than ever that the truth is out there, Scully..."

A few days to recuperate, then we see our much loved surgeon again. (And I DO NOT mean this lightly.  The Goatmother's surgeon is top-notch and a fantastic person!)  Beyond that, we have some radiation to do and possibly chemotherapy.  We are playing the waiting game again.  Cancer does not know the word 'hurry'.  And really, that's okay.  I suppose it is just like losing weight.  It didn't come on overnight and it isn't going to go away overnight.  (I have copied this last part to give to Boo.  That, plus I've added 'Battleships weren't built in a day', 'Freighters do not reach their destinations overnight' and 'Truckers are in it for the long haul'.  Then, just for good measure, I added, 'Boo, you are fat.', because you can never get too simple for the Nubian mind. )

So, my friends, we want to thank you again for being there - for your kindness, your caring, your humor and your butting!!! (I do so hope you aren't tired of hearing that!)   We are so very humbled.

"The battle of Helm's Deep is over; the battle for Middle Earth is about to begin." - Gandalf, The Two Towers

The Return of the Queen

Hello, all!  I am sure you are all anxiously awaiting news of the Goatmother and here it is!  Fresh off the press!  Yesterday was a looooong day, but it would seem that things went in a better direction than we could ever have hoped for.  The offending lump was removed and two sentinel lymph nodes were dissected which showed, NO CANCER in them, at least on initial report.  There are several good things about this.  First, the Down-the-Rabbit-Hole MRI showed 'nothing remarkable'.  (I am wondering if they included the Goatmother's brain in that scan, but I wasn't going to ask.)  Secondly, the surgeon had had a suspicion that the Goatmother's sentinel lymph node (of which she apparently had two ) might be under her sternum (as occurs in 10% of people) and might not be accessible.  However, as it turned out, the only problem was that due to the Goatmother's recent weight loss, the lymph node(s) had retreated to deep underneath her pectoral muscle.  (I understand this completely.  If I thought someone was coming after me with a scalpel, I'd certainly retreat.  And if it turned out to be an Alpine bearing that scalpel, I might likely be in the next county.  I'm just sayin'...) So the surgeon said the Goamother was likely to be very sore since she had to 'go a fishin', as they say, and indeed that has turned out to be the case.  Still, it's all good.  This is the Goatmother's new mantra - It's all good.

We were, however, afraid that the Goatmother might not get to come home last night (and no one would think to come and give the poor goats their nightly Peanut) because they couldn't get her blood pressure to raise.  Finally, though, they deemed it 'good 'nuf' and she got to sleep in her own comfy bed! (And the goats got their Peanuts.  This is very important, you know.  How can we cheer her on and Butt the Hay OUT of Cancer if we can't keep up our strength?  Oy.)

Now then, allow me to pause here and tell you a little side story.  You see when the Goatfather and Goatmother first moved here, they bought an almost life-sized concrete statue of a lovely lady holding roses to go in the garden.  Well, this woman stands in such a position that her left breast receives more exposure to the elements than the rest of her.  Thus, her left breast is lighter in color (more white than gray) than the rest of her.  She watches over the herbs and flowers and is fondly referred to as 'Our Lady of the White Nipple'.  Now then, one of the things that happened during the Goatmother's adventure yesterday, was that they injected her first with a radio-isotope and second a blue dye.  The dye was a beautiful Caribbean blue, reminiscent of the sun, sea and sand of a tropical paradise.  These things were there so that the doctor could actually find those shy, little shrinking-violet lymph nodes.  The only trouble was two-fold.  I mean the stuff did its job all right, but the first time the Goatmother went to pee after surgery was better than 'Calgon, take me away!'  Sort of St. Tropez and Windex rolled into one.  The second thing is, that although we haven't actually seen it yet due to the latent skills of some frustrated expert Christmas-package-wrapping aspirant, and a huge ACE bandage, the Goatmother now has a little added 'Bling' in the form of a blue nipple.  This farm is now in proud possession of two wonders of the modern age:  Our Lady of the White Nipple, and Our Lady of the Blue Nipple.  Ain't we special???

So there you have it.  Our heart, our thanks and, well, everything but our Peanuts (although I might consider throwing in a few of those even) go out to each and every one of you who have given us so much and consented to travel this long and arduous road by our side.  You have NO idea how special you are and how very MUCH you are loved.

"Then let us be rid of it... once and for all! Come on, Mr. Frodo. I can't carry it for you... but I can carry you!" - Samwise Gamgee, The Return of the King.

You are ALL our Samwise.

There and Back Again

Good morning!  Well, tomorrow is the day.  The Goatmother is scheduled for surgery. (Excuse me.  I have to check my brain a minute.  No, that is correct.  It IS tomorrow.  My how time flies when you're not having fun.)  We didn't have any news from the rabbit hole experience yesterday, so we are hoping against hope that means nothing more has changed.  Of course today is another day, as Scarlett implied, but I guess we'll cross that particular bridge if and when we come to it.  So tomorrow is likely to be a rather long day, but if all goes as planned, it will be just a lumpectomy and hopefully nothing more drastic. (Ha!  Listen to me.  'Just' a lumpectomy.  Still, in my defense, given any of the alternatives, 'just' seems to fit.)  Plus it is scheduled to be done as an outpatient procedure and the Goatmother has been delirious that she doesn't have to stay and can sleep in her very own bed.  I understand that as I can't imagine being comfortable anywhere but my nice little hay-padded corner of the barn.  (Unless it is another hay-padded corner of the barn because Ella is having one of her infamous picky-snits and has decided MY corner looks better than hers.  Oy.).

Anyway, The Goatmother is naturally a bit apprehensive.  I think it might be somewhat like knowing someone else is going to be doing the feeding and wondering whether or not they will have been informed about the absolute necessity of passing out Peanuts.  Something like that anyway.

So we are ever hopeful.  The Universe even lent us a bit of hand with that since yesterday the Goatmother walked down to the barn and there were five new little baby ducks paddling about in the pond.  New life.  My highly developed, masterful philosophizing brain says this is an omen.  (However, I can't help but think this is adding to the literal hoard of UrDuck-H'ai we already have to endure.   On the up side, at least they are a whole lot cuter, and peeping isn't nearly as annoying as quacking.)

So, my friends, since modern medicine has not advanced far enough to actually allow goats to enter the hospital, yet, I'll be waiting tomorrow just like you.  Rest assured, I will inform you at the earliest possible time.  We are not proud.  Any and all, prayers, positive energy, healing thoughts, good wishes - even downright begging,  welcomed here with open arms.  Yes, we are a little scared.  But as our friend Turbo would say, that's just STUPID.  Human beings have this magic ability.  They can be afraid of what is to come.  They can build it up in their mind and their feeble mind will take them to the worst possible scenario.  But the truth of the matter, the magic part, is that when they actually come face to face with reality, they deal.   They simply deal.   And usually they do it quite admirably.  Who knew?

"It's a dangerous business, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no telling where you might be swept off to." - Bilbo Baggins


P.S.   Any of you with a blog, I am working on getting you onto my blog link list in the side bar.  I want to acknowledge you. I think it might be a long list eventually.  If you aren't there yet, you will be.  It is just that Blogger doesn't cooperate (as you may well know if you have a Blogger blog) and time and frustration levels are at a premium just now.  Eventually you will be there, however.  And if at some point down the road, you look and you are not there, please let me know.  But give me a little time first. :) A rainbow of blessings on each and every of your heads!  

The Rabbit Hole

Just a short note.  First of all, we can never ever express the depth of our gratitude to Teresa Perin  of Eden Hills and Mimi Foxmorton of The Goat Borrower for what you see in my side bar.  Teresa's mother is the artist that managed to capture the fabulous and real me, and with a Mona Lisa-esque smile no less!  (Eat your heart out, Angelina.)  Oh, sorry.  I got side tracked there for a minute.  And as if that weren't enough, the picture you see has been made available for download on the FaceBook page of the Sisterhood of the Goat.  And as if THAT weren't enough, buttons are now available for purchase, here, for anyone who so desires. The Goatmother literally sobbed when she saw what they had done.  Of course I had to butt her.  Oh it was only a gentle butt, but I needed to remind her that it is okay to let people do things for you.  I mean, look at me.  I let people do things for me all the time.  It is the goat way.

So then, we would like you all to know that Mr. Murphy is alive and well at our house.  Still.   Last Friday, the Goatmother was due to have an MRI.  They called that morning and said, 'Oops.  The machine is broken.  You will have to come on Tuesday.'  So tomorrow is the day.  It is down the rabbit hole for the Goatmother.  She will be looking for white rabbits who are running late while she is there.  Please wish her luck.  She was ready last Friday.  I don't think she's as ready now.  I know how that feels.  It is kind of like when you are about to get your hooves trimmed and somebody forgets to bring the Peanuts.  I mean, your taste buds are all primed and ready and then ... nothing.  Oy.

" ... I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day. An hour of woes and shattered shields, when the age of men comes crashing down! But it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good Earth, I bid you stand!" - Aragorn, The Return of the King

First You Cry

Good morning all.  I am sure you have all been wondering just exactly why I have been so silent.  Certainly it is very uncharacteristic, to say the least.  But the truth of the matter is, there has been a rather large monkey wrench (darn those monkeys anyway) thrown into the cogs on the wheel of life around here.  So bear with me while I figure out how to go about this.

First of all, I would have written earlier, but I couldn't remember where it was you went to actually start a new post. (Thank you, Blogger).  So after I figured out that I didn't want to do it in Arabic or Czech, I finally figured out, 'Oh!  It is this stupid looking orange pencil thingy!'.

Now, then, to the matter at hand.  This blog is going to take a bit of a new direction, and there is a reason for this.  Let me just say, right now, that if you are put off by this change (see my previous rules), and choose to stop reading, well, then so be it.  We will miss you, but I am hoping that won't be the case. 

So let me get right to the point.  Our beloved Goatmother has been diagnosed with breast cancer.  Yes, it is that awful 'C' word.  At first no one could even utter the word.  We found lots of other ways to say it like, 'Oh.  The biopsy came back positive', or 'Oh.  The doctor found something not so good.', or 'Oy Vay!, Mama!  What are these people really trying to say?'  And the title of this post is unequivocally true.  First you cry.  And then the fear takes hold.  Mr. Fear is a terrible task master and the jerk tends to lead one off into quite unacceptable territory.  Unreasonable thoughts begin to enter one's mind.  Things like, 'Where in the hay are my Peanuts going to come from?' Oh, wait.  Maybe that was a bad example ...

Anyway, for the sake of the Goatmother, I am going to be blogging through this ordeal.  The posts may not be regular, but then again, who knows?  However, they will keep coming.  We're absolutely not going anywhere!  I figure it will help the Goatmother immensely to have someone willing to help her vent her feelings, keep up her spirits, and most importantly, to boost her sense of humor.  We are firm believers around here that a sense of humor is paramount to keeping a positive attitude.  Laughter IS the best medicine.

And so far we are all completely blown away by the kindness, graciousness and beauty in people.  People willing to help in any way they can.  People willing to just send encouragement.  So much coming from so many unexpected places.  (Ella has even promised to act like less of a punk.  Mind you she is likely to fall off the wagon a time or two, but I suppose it is the thought that counts.)  We will never be able to repay them all, but we will try.  Oh, yes, we will try.

Above all, I am here, along with so many others, to help the Goatmother BUTT THE HAY out of this monster.  With five hard and angry goat heads, one very determined fireball of a Goatfather, two dogs willing to bite this thing in its sorry (pardon my goat) ass, and a whole passel of the most wonderful beings walking the face of this beautiful planet, that is exactly what we are going to do.  We have received an offer from The Snowcatcher to use her bicycling-forged thunder thighs to kick butt, an offer from a herd of misguided pygmy goats over at 'Ewww!  What's On My Shoe', (who have first hand knowledge of this monster themselves), and oh, so many other capable assassin types.  We may even enlist Darla, the world's best dressed goat over at The Goat Borrower, to design a lovely canceresque goat cap.  Hay, it could happen!  And I can't leave out the fabulous Goatfarmer and all my friends over at my birthplace, This Goat's Life, CoraBelle and her minions at Life Beyond the Sidewalks, the goat boys and other critters at On the Way to Critter Farm (who just went through something similar themselves), Millie and everyone at Eden Hills, and I am sure I have forgotten someone.  (And these are just the bloggers ... there are so many more.  As I said we will never be able to repay them all.)    But if I forgot, please forgive.  The brain is rather mush right now. ( I think it may be because we had to endure the Goatfather trimming our hooves.  Trust me, it was as much a chose nouvelle for him as it was for us.  But more likely the brain mush is due to a lack of Peanuts.  I'm just sayin'....  One has to keep up one's strength in the face of adversity.)

So, my friends,  Beam me up, Scotty, and fasten your seat belts, 'cuz we're goin' for a ride!

P.S.  The Goatmother asked her surgeon how she felt about being on the internet.  Her reply?  "Well, there's a woman whose duck has a blog and I'm on it.  Why not a goat?"  Needless to say, we have a lot of faith in this woman.