For the Love of Dogs

My friend shared with me that his beloved 12 year old pup suddenly passed away. This has been on my mind…

As a result, I am mindful of when I was 4 years old & living with my family in Michigan with my Doberman, Hans. I have vivid remarkable memories of Hans. He was a true Doberman Pinscher, as the breed is known for being, “Always Faithful”. He was a big boy – I remember the age I was standing eye to eye with him & then I grew to be a little taller. My father was a brilliant dog trainer & the original animal lover. And my big brother & I loved playing with Hans in our back yard in the winter snow & the summer grass. Quite often, as I dashed out our back door, my dad would hand me a small paper bag full of trash to toss out in the big metal can in our yard. Each time, Hans would hide behind the trash can & as I approached, suddenly Hans would leap out & he’d jump & hop around me with glee! I laughed till my sides hurt! I fell for this again & again as he continued to lovingly play his own brand of hide ‘n’ seek behind the big trash can. I never got my dad to admit if he taught Hans how to hide & tease me in this way. But what I do know is that when our family suddenly moved into a small apartment the summer of 1962, before I started kindergarten in California, sadly we did not bring Hans with us. I am unable to remember where my beloved play mate’s new home would be that day – but I do know Hans took a piece of my heart with him. I wonder if it is possible to fill that special void of the loss of a fine dog. Perhaps it is due to that lost love that we must freely give to every dog we see in our new life with out our faithful friend at our feet. I do know, that with out the great companionship of Hans, the unexpected fun & laughter, the feeling of being protected – I would never have experienced that great level of unconditional love & compassion – as my heart grew to realize I’d never see Hans again, I experienced a painful sense of loss at much too young of an age. Hans was one of my greatest teachers. Perhaps my first teacher. My memories of Hans are my strongest childhood memories of Michigan when I was only 3 & 4 years old.

My entire life since the summer I turned 5, when ever I see a Doberman, my joy filled heart gravitates towards him & I hear myself softly say,”Haaans! I remember you. Thank you for teaching me about unconditional love. I will love you forever, right back!” For I too, am “Always Faithful”.

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My insomnia inspired gratitude list

For the better part of my life I’ve jumped into a nice hot shower, gone to bed and fallen fast asleep.  Who doesn’t, right?  For approximately 5 years now, the level of the Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue that I live with has made these 2 things incredibly difficult, painful and troublesome. I’ve come up with several survival plans to manage these necessities of life. However – during my father’s illness and passing and the domino effect that still continues to follow – it’s been quite, shall we say, challenging.

For tonight, I will execute one of my little feeling better tricks: The Gratitude List. More often than not, writing it works a heck of a lot better than thinking it… And I am so grateful, that, somehow, I am still sober…

I am grateful for the Tucson clouds.

 

I am grateful for my favorite flowers.

 

I am grateful for, Peaches, my father’s cat.

 

I am grateful I live on my father’s quiet cul-de-sac.

 

I am grateful for the times I remain hopeful that some day I will live pain free.

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My Dad did not choose throat cancer but he does choose hope.

I’ve been staying in Tucson longer than I originally anticipated. 9 weeks ago I arrived with endless hope and energy.  As today comes to a close I feel the weight of endless sadness – reckless sleeping has pushed down my weary shoulders and clouded my eyesight. I am amazed at the amount of tears that continue to fall many times a day.  I duck into an empty bathroom or I sit in my car, or suddenly I can not hold myself up as I am standing alone washing the dishes in my father’s empty home.

Is this the way life is now?  I am unable to see out.  Suffering from serious sleep deprivation as I make endless decisions for my father’s care.   I find myself with the suprising and distracting task of convincing caregivers that my father is in their facility to recover from throat cancer and chemo – not die – recover!  I have learned the hard way that because my father is quite thin and is on a feeding tube many false assumptions have been made.  My hope and faith is tested as I take someone aside to explain that my father is already a miracle!  can’t you see that he is walking unassisted?!  He was in a wheelchair only 2 months ago. PLUS he has gained 7 pounds since he went on that feeding tube.  I am quite clear on my hope.  I am quite clear I am spreading a positive force of healing thoughts. I am quite clear as I share my admiration for my father’s unwavering determination.  Yes, his confusion is heart breaking – however – he is tenacious and healing!

Caregivers giggle when he makes a face like a frog with a wide turned down mouth. Then he makes a face like a fish and puckers up.  “Ga. Ga. Ga!” he says with his broken raspy voice. “Ka – ka – ka!” He says with a sly smile and wink.  “Wow! Good ones Dad! You’re really improving!  Keep up the good work!” I tell him with a gentle hug. “Your throat exercises are making a big difference Dad!  I can tell.  I just know it to be true.  I catch a couple caregivers tilt their head with sudden understanding.  They ask questions. So my father teaches them what he is doing to rebuild his throat muscles.  The tumors that were at the top of his throat and airway are gone now.  He speaks highly of both his oncologist as well as his Speech Pathologist who visits him on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Yes, it is another day in the life with surviving throat cancer.  But the good news is, my father’s hard work, combined with hope and my private tears and prayer is paying off in baby steps. The Speech Pathologist gave him 3 sips of water yesterday and then 3 sips of apple juice. He did not cough. He did not choke.  He swallowed – he drank them. It was magnificent.

And the best news of all is that my father’s alma mater, Michigan State, won the Rose Bowl.  All we can do is the very best we can do.  Half measures avail us nothing.  It’s another blessed day in Tucson.  It is the recovery that comes from hope. Tears are allowed with hope. Confusion is allowed with hope.  Sleepless lonely nights in an empty house can still have hope and blessings in every corner.

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Doing nothing, is doing something!

I refuse to react.

I refuse to participate on any level with a bully.

I refuse to allow anyone or anything distract my father from his continued comfort, peace and healing.

Only God will guide me in my decision making.

I am strong. I am tall. I am clever. I am tenacious.

Perhaps I am a daddy’s girl after all.

 

 

 

 

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A day in the life with my father at the skilled living facility

While my father was resting at the skilled living center as his feeding tube gradually, gently allowed nutrients back into his dehydrated body, my gentleman friend and I went on errands for supplies.  I was grateful to have his hand to hold. . . My body buzzing with anxiety – my mind fuzzy with a horrific sence of urgency – my vision blurry as if someone rubbed vaseline petroleum jelly around the edges of my glasses. . . Clearly it was a good thing I was the passenger and not the driver.

As we drove down the empty road and the sky was jam packed with fluffy Arizona clouds, the GPS seemed to be confusing our sence of direction as we did our best to navigate around Tucson so I could get a couple items for Dad.

“. . . Point 5 miles U-turn . . .”  the automated female robot voice said.

Following directions – we did a U-turn.

” . . . Point 5 miles U-turn . . .” the GPS said to us once more.

“What?!  Seriously?! Stop it!”  Clearly the the gosh darn GPS was more turned around than we were.

“Turn that thing off!”  We said in unison like Bose stereo speakers.

Instantaneously we burst into laughter!  Beautiful, beautiful laughter. My gawd it felt good – a moment in a day where my tears were endless and my heart was broken due to my fear of the unknown with my Dad’s health status.  Our sweet and sudden laughter created a tiny crack in my overwhelming fear and my hope rushed in – as if the laughter had broken a dam of despair.

My father’s strong spirit is inside of his frail body.  And with his whisper of a shredded voice, he softly stated, as if it was a typical Sunday afternoon, “I want to play golf again.”

My father is working with all his might every moment to regain his health. So the least I can do is remain hopeful and carry my faith with all my might.  Together we can do this.  My family is small – but we are mighty.

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The beauty is healing in Tucson

Another long challenging day in Tucson, Arizona as we all try to do our best to care for my father.  I’m hoping the explanation to his deep confusion is because of the many weeks of meds and no solid food.  He did not feel this sick when he had the beginning stages of throat cancer. Now he is someone recovering from the damaging effects of chemo and radiation. What are our choices here? My father is 85 years old.  Die because we have cancer?  Or die because we are fighting cancer?  Is it just a different journey with the same end result?  But not being able to eat?!  As for me, if I don’t eat I can not function. . .

I am mindful of my brief but lovely and blessed experience today when I went out side for some fresh air to take a moment.  The air so pure it made me feel lighter.  The clouds were putting on a magnificent show of many colors. With a motion of their own, both my arms stretched to the clouds.  They longed to grab on and be carried away into the cold brisk clean air.  What a freeing moment that would be. . .

Turning around I see the doors of the skilled living facility where my father is literally putting up a wicked fight to get his life back and get back home.  In his rough of a whisper agonizing voice he speaks of his cat.  The cat I am taking care of.  The cat he misses that is inside of the home that he misses. . . Perhaps it was the clouds.  Perhaps it was the wind. Perhaps it was because I felt a little cold. But I knew in that moment that this is not my sadness.  This is not my struggle.  This is not my day to be in a wheelchair fighting to stand up.  All of this belongs to my father.  My father the lifeguard. The swimmer at Michigan State. The original lover of dogs and cats. The Sierra Club leader. The tennis player. The single father during the late 60’s and 70’s.  The guy telling a funny joke at the bar while he sips his beer. The golfer who loves the sport so much that he bought a home in Tucson with a view of a Golf Course.  The guy who keeps trying with all his might to stand up from his wheel chair.  He’s frustrated. Confused.  The caregivers and nurses kindly ask him to “please sit back down”. They have to speak over the loud buzzing of the high-pitched bells.  And all I am is the daughter who gets the honor of standing by his side and holding his frail arm and says, “I’m right here Dad, you stand untill you want to sit back down.” It was for quite a few more seconds, but he did it. I kneeled next to him looked up and I told him my truth, “Dad, I admire you.”  And it was good. It was simple. It was empowering.

Tomorrow I get to do it all over again – except tomorrow – I’m going to bring his cat with me.  Let’s change-up this journey a bit. . .

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My Choices are Endless.

Last night it was my intention to shower before bed. My body begged to rest for a moment, knowing that showers are quite a work out. Not recognizing the heaviness of my daily fatigue and exhaustion, I had fallen asleep…

Early this morning I woke up on top of my bed, cold, in my robe, with the throw blanket over me and Grace sound asleep at the foot of my bed. Knowing she can be my personal feline heating pad, ever so slowly I moved my toes towards her and gently tucked them underneath her warm and cozy catness. She didn’t move or open her eyes as the sound of her distinct loud purr filled my bedroom.

I felt my spirit rise like the morning sun. My body still had not moved – yet my gratitude was overwhelming me. My true joyful spirit snuck out from me and rejoiced the sunlight coming in through my windows. I felt it in such a way as if I was watching my spirit look out of the window as it noticed the wind suddenly appear to greet the trees. A joyful feeling indeed.

Other than my toes under Grace’s black furry warm body – I had not moved. My memory dialed into two nights ago when I took my first dose of a new medicine. With in a few minutes I broke out in hives. Seriously? Hives?! The moment wasn’t about how the hives with their burning red welts felt on my body. The moment was about taking care of this nuisance. This distraction. Take care of it. Get on it. Get into action. Off to the pharmacy I went…

As much as I do get frustrated. As much as I do feel angry that my body can not do the activities that have always been a part of who I am. My spirit greeted the day rejoicing because finally, finally I know in my heart that I do indeed have many choices. More choices than I ever have been able to realise or see. Choices that I feel. Choices that make each day, each moment, the best choice that I can make in that moment.

I choose to sit down and cry. I choose to feel bummed-out knowing that I am missing yet another event. Missing another dinner party. Missing another play. I choose to feel left out or forgotten. But it is also my choice just how long I allow these things in my heart. How long do I allow this dark visit?

I did not miss out on everything!

I didn’t miss the first day my parents taught me how to swim. I didn’t miss my first boy-girl party. I didn’t miss my first kiss. I didn’t miss cheerleader tryouts. I didn’t miss my first prom. I didn’t miss being in my best friend’s wedding. I didn’t miss watching my son take his first steps. I didn’t miss any of my son’s soccer games. I didn’t miss the plane when I flew to Costa Rica to surf for 10 days. I didn’t miss my son’s high school graduation or his college graduation.

It’s endless.

The choices? Endless.

Today I’m getting a chance to find new best choices for myself as I am finding my way. Learning my capabilities. No matter what, I still can make the best choices in any situation and not miss out on any event that is my best choice. Then, and only then, will I continue to not only be joyful, but I can be victorious as well.

I will always have an opportunity directly in front of me to make my best choice. And then my reward is a heart full of gratitude and a joyful spirit that will rise to meet the sunshine of each and every morning.

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Forgiveness + Love = My Greatest Resource

I am grateful to no end for the windows that I look out of as I once more collapse in a crash and burn on my couch.  I take a few pictures of what I can see from my horizontal captivity.  I push through the pain in my body like a bull pushes his head through a matador’s angry red cape.  As I blast through the red, I find myself landing in a different place in my tired mind.  Once more I am reflecting on forgiveness.  Which brings me to weigh the love to be found in all of this forgiveness. Matters of the heart can be quite complicated.  I understand that part – but I am not speedy with how I want to go about all this complex getting in touch with my feelings stuff.  Then it  has all these different levels of emotions.  I mean, being the recovering party girl and all, this does not come easily for me.   I am far from being the fast order cook of my emotions.  “How do you want your heart cooked lady?!  Scrambled?  Fried?  Over easy?”  Pause. “Poached?!”  Another pause.  “Lord have mercy if you are one of them picky organic grown and free range types!”

“Hey, don’t rush me man.”  Sheesh. Gimme a damn minute.  I’m not sure what type I am right now. Why don’t cha come back in a week?

Here’s what is on my mind again as I look out the window to the thick green trees. . .  I’ve been divorced from Tyler’s dad for 25 years now – so no need for us to talk any more now that my son is a grown man.  But a couple of months ago my ex-husband sent me an E mail apologizing for something quite hurtful that he said to me around 3 years ago. THREE YEARS AGO. What’s up with that?

But I digress.  It felt like being involved in a bad car accident because someone simply took their eyes off of the road.  I revisited the emotional intersection of the collision with my ex-husband once again:  While my son was going to the local college he wanted to live with his father.  He had been going back and forth, every other weekend to his father’s house his whole life.  So, seemingly, all was just fine.   I went to visit my son at the house – we were all visiting.  And while Tyler left his father and I in the living room for just one second – Yes – he took his eyes off of us for just one second . . .  CRASH!  BAM!

I didn’t see it coming at all.  I was caught quite off guard because his father – out of nowhere – offered information to me that I did not need to know.  Ouch!  Call the paramedics!  Too much information and my emotional air-bag did not deploy.  Ouch!  Offering such hurtful information is somewhere between a twisted confession or just completely standing there while waiting for someone’s face to smash through the windshield.  At first I was kinda numb, in shock.  I gathered myself enough to tell him there was no reason for him to suddenly offer this information to me.  It was unnecessary, hurtful and not ok.  The shocker was that I was calm, so calm, but the hurt so deep that my words came out in a whisper.

He seemed to have forgotten I was no longer the girl he met in a bar and married 8 months later.  I am a mom, a sober mom who made the decision to stay sober and put my son first in my life.  I rose to my feet.  I stood tall.  Slowly I picked up my purse and walked away towards my son’s room to say good bye to him.  What my ex-husband said after that is unimportant.  In my son’s room,  Tyler said that he had heard everything.  My son, who was now a grown man – in college plus working a job – walked up to me and gave me a big ol’ bear hug.  How did he get so dang tall?  So much taller than me now.  He told me I never had to put myself in such a position any more – because he was over 18 now. My son Tyler continued to say some wise, loving and supportive words to me as he walked me to my car.  He told me that I’ve been a great mom his whole life.  He was his usual cool, calm and collected self. He suggested we meet down the street at the coffee shop in 5 minutes.  And I left and that was that with my ex-husband.  Boom.

So here I am looking at this “3 years later” E mail from my ex.  He wrote to me that he wished he never said the words he said to me that day.  He asked “for my forgiveness”.  Oddly and to my surprise, I shed tears of compassion for him as I read it. If you ask me – relationships, marriage, matters of the heart – it can all be so sad sometimes if we are not careful.  Especially if we take our eyes off the road, or worse, if we take our eyes off of God.  And just speaking for myself, forgiveness has always been a tricky one.  However, something profound happened this time.  I felt compassion, but with out searching for it.  I felt it being delivered to me by love –  just like what I heard in church once as I kid when I went with my next door neighbors – God is love.  That information that was “offered” to me that day from my ex-husband had nothing to do with me as a person.  It was his old stuff, back to haunt him. He was the one that ran that emotional red light that day, and I just happened to be in the way.  And as a result of his own actions, once more he totalled his own heart.

Sure, of course it would not be my choice to be endlessly ill and weary and have this crazy painful Fibromyalgia thing – but through the years of not feeling 100% I have created a simple and uncomplicated life and only surround myself with kind, loving and supportive people.  Other wise, I can feel my energy decline and my health weaken in that moment.  Love fills me up.  Love keeps me motivated even on the days I must rest, stay at home, and look out my window to the world of nature.  Someone who is showing me their negative hurtful spirit is not a fight I hang around for.  I dodge that bullet.  All my energy, even if I only have a very limited supply of it, is spent for me to make the most of what I have and learn who I best can be at this stage of my life.  Using all of my energy to learn how to manage this chronic debilitating pain is energy well spent.

I had forgiven my son’s father long ago – long before he had sent this E mail.  I hope he can forgive himself too – after all it is a miracle he has been sober many years.  I am grateful that my precious son’s father is still sober.  My son deserves that, and more, in his fabulous life with his longtime girlfriend.  And forgiveness is powerful stuff.

Forgiveness is for-giving my freedom back to myself.

And once I am able to do this – the rest is put back in God’s hands – and I continue to focus on what is in front of me.  And life once more can move forward, as it should.

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. . . I’ve been thinking about the different ways to count and gather blessings. With so much emotional pain and physical pain in the world, I realized I needed a reminder of “Looking For Blessings”! . . .

it's a beautiful life. (if you like roller coasters!)

The only way I will find a blessing is when I first begin to look for a blessing.  Just like on every Easter morning when my big brother and I looked for the brightly colored Easter eggs.  We did not question that the Easter Bunny hid candy and eggs for us.  We knew in our hearts that we were surrounded by our treats and surprises even though we could not see them.  We were thrilled just to tightly hold our beautiful empty Easter baskets as we faithfully looked for our surprises.  I knew in my heart the colorfully dyed eggs were there, even though my Easter basket was empty.  I remember this feeling of joyful anticipation and faith that was deep inside of my happy heart.  I also knew in my heart, without a doubt, that if I just kept searching my living room and back yard that there would be many surprises and treats waiting just for me to…

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Top 5 on my Grateful List

1) I’m grateful I started my day by taking a picture from my balcony while the sun was rising through dark rain clouds.

2) I’m grateful there were no leaks in my home during the heavy rain this week. (Some neighbors were not so lucky.)

3) I’m grateful for my dear friend when he calls to check in on me.  (and I’m grateful for the Starbucks Card he sent me!)

4) I am incredibly grateful for the phone conversation I had with my father today.

5) I am grateful for my long term sobriety during my journey and deep challenges with Fibromyalgia. (Does that makes me a “Fibromyalkie”?)

I am feeling much more grateful now, than before I started my grateful list.  Try it. It works.  What are you grateful for?  I’d love to know.

julie 🙂

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