A little fur goes a long way

January 13, 2022

One day I was in so much pain, I was barely holding myself together. I went to my chronic pain support group. As I spoke, I teared up. My friend sitting next to me gently placed her hand on my arm, on a spot that’s usually fine, but I winced and pulled away in pain. It was a bad day. Everything hurt.

After the meeting, one group member let her service dog off duty, and he happily went around the room soliciting pets. When I pet him, the pain melted away and I felt so much better. It wasn’t until an hour after I got home that the pain came back to the level it had been before. That’s when I knew that it was time to get a dog.

Or so I thought. I did try to adopt a dog before realizing that it wasn’t going to work. I wasn’t ready. I was devastated.

Fast forward 5 years, and I was in a different place, both literally and figuratively. Now I lived in a first floor apartment, so taking a dog outside wouldn’t involve any stairs like it had before, or the walk down a long hallway and then navigating an old-fashioned elevator with manual doors. I was also in much better health, all things considered. I had been dog sitting for several years and loved it, and knew that I could manage to care for a dog for a few days or a week at a time. Then the pandemic hit and my dog sitting petered out. People weren’t travelling, so they didn’t need me to watch their dogs. I missed caring for dogs so much, and needed to do something about it.

I had thought about fostering for a while, and I finally decided to try. With so many people volunteering, though, they didn’t need more help. I waited. Several months later I tried again, and was accepted to a program!

I have my third foster dog sitting by my desk now. I still want my own pup, but this has been an amazing experience, and it has shown me that, yes, I am ready to get a dog of my own! My hope is that 2022 will be the year. It’s going to take a while to find the right dog for me. I’m feeling very insecure about the entire thing. What if I choose the wrong dog? What if I can’t handle it? But every time I pet a dog, I feel so much better. I feel happier. I feel more relaxed. Even though I want the dog to leave, I love having them here.

That’s right, I want the dog to leave. Sort of. When I have a dog with me, I look forward to the day they go back to their owners (if I’m dog sitting) or get adopted (if I’m fostering). I’m tired, and I want to sleep a little later, not have to take walks at night, and have more time to myself. But every time they leave, I miss having the push to exercise regularly, I’m more tired despite getting more rest, my pain is worse, and I feel more alone. Life is simpler, but I don’t feel better.

Then the next dog arrives, and the first days of fostering are tiring and stressful as I learn about the dog and they learn proper behaviors. Then we settle into a routine and I love them and I don’t want to let them go. Still, there’s the part of me that longs for them to leave so I can rest. But they leave, and once again, I’m more tired and in more pain, and I miss having a furry friend around. Plus, the apartment feels so empty. On balance, I’d rather have a dog here.

As I type this, I’m looking into the big brown eyes of the sweetest boy in the world. He’s staring back, and just started to wag his tail. A dog won’t solve all my problems, and life won’t be perfect, but I sure would love to have a furry friend of my own around all the time. Well, most of the time. And the rest of the time, I’ll just have to deal.

Do you have a furry friend at home? Please share nice stories about how they help you to feel better mentally, physically, and emotionally!

So 2022 is the year for me to get a dog. I haven’t found the right pup yet, but I’ll be looking. And in the meantime, I’m lucky to have sweet furballs around to make me feel better.


Sometimes the bare minimum is plenty

November 13, 2021

I’ve been wanting to write for weeks but it’s just been too much. I’ve been having a really hard time lately.

Thanks to medication changes, my adrenals aren’t being properly supported, so I have both less energy and lower tolerance for handling stress. And in a few days I have a colonoscopy and endoscopy.

Colonoscopies aren’t a big deal for most people. Not that anyone loves getting them, but you just deal, right? Well, thanks to a decades-long history of medical trauma, medical procedures can be triggering for me. And thanks to decades of undiagnosed gastrointestinal symptoms, GI stuff is also triggering for me. So knowing that in two days I’m going to have to drink a formula that will probably make me throw up, and that will induce the kinds of GI symptoms that I’ve struggled with for most of my life, followed by a medical procedure, where I’ll be up close with people during a pandemic…. yeah, my anxiety is at an all-time high.

Logically, I know it will be all be fine. But logic isn’t helping. My therapist gave me some breathing and thought exercises which help, and I’m just trying to make it through this period. It’s rough.

To make it a little easier, I’m doing a few things that I don’t usually do:

  • I cried. I spent a lot of my life learning not to cry because if I did, people thoughtI was just trying to get attention. (Yup, as a 12-year-old with chronic pain, that’s what I was told by several doctors and teachers. Thankfully, my parents never thought that.) Now, I don’t cry easily. For a week I really felt the need to cry, but I couldn’t let it out. Finally, though, I cried. And then I sobbed. And then I sobbed some more. I cried a lot that day, and it helped a lot. I cried a bit yesterday. I’m still having trouble crying as much as I need to, but I’m working on it. It helps to let it all out.
  • I asked for help. I don’t do this often enough. I posted on my Facebook page, asking friends to make phone calls to manufacturers for me. I was trying to find a gluten-free version of the easier colonoscopy prep. I had made a few calls, but it’s so stressful. For one thing, making any of calls for gluten-free stuff is stressful and exhausting and I’m tired of doing it. But then, doing it for this purpose…. it was just too much. A fabulous friend did the research. She called everyplace on my list, then did more research to find more to add to the list. She struck out, but if she hadn’t called for me, then I would have felt like I had to, and I would have been upset with myself for “failing”, thinking that maybe if I’d made the calls it could have been easier.
  • I asked for help again. Several friends had volunteered to help with the calls, so when that friend struck out, I asked for more calls. Since I couldn’t get the easier prep, I wanted to get an anti-nausea pill to help with the one I’ll be doing. Again, I needed something gluten-free. Three people called pharmacies all over my area to ask which manufacturers they used for this med (there are quite a few who make it), and then called those manufacturers to ask if the med was gluten-free. Again, they struck out. But again, if they hadn’t done it then I would have felt like I had to. It was so great of them to make those calls.
  • I asked to borrow a puppy. No, really! I have neighbors with two of the sweetest, most adorable puppies. Both are house-trained and don’t chew on stuff, so they’re not too hard to watch. I asked if I could borrow one, and the timing worked out that I took one for an hour. He cheered me up SO MUCH! Dogs are great medicine. Normally I would have felt silly asking, but I’m glad I did. And they were glad their dogs could help.
  • I’m giving myself a break. My to-do list is short right now. Really short. And even then I know it’s ok if I don’t get most of it done. In a typical week this amount would be easy to do (my list is usually twice as long), but not now. For example, today’s list is: laundry (already in the machine – win!), vacuum (if it doesn’t happen, that’s ok), prepare some work for my volunteer gig (they know I’m struggling and that I may have to cancel tomorrow’s meeting if I can’t get it done, but I think it will be doable), walk (fresh air is good for me), and watch YouTube videos while relaxing with my knitting. My hope is to get everything done before lunch except the last two. That way, I won’t have anything I need to do this afternoon except enjoy a walk and relax on the couch. And honestly, the vacuuming is unlikely. And that’s ok. The rest of my week is even easier than today.
  • I’m avoiding anything emotionally taxing. When a friend brings up a stressful topic that isn’t necessary to discuss, I ask to change the subject. Stressful movies and books are on hold. I’m keeping it as light and easy as possible. Last night I watched an animated Disney movie and that was perfect.

Is this all enough to make me feel great? No, of course not. But it’s enough to make me not feel worse, and that’s a win. I’ll keep spending time with dogs, watching easy movies, doing my crafts. I’ll keep my to-do list short. I’ll ask for help. I’ll spend time with dogs. (Oh, did I say that twice?)

In a few days, after the colonoscopy, I’ll feel better. Once my medication is back to working properly, I’ll feel even better. (I tried to time things so that it would be back before the colonoscopy, but my doctors were really slow to get back to me about how to proceed after we got the test results.) This isn’t the post I planned to write. That one has to wait. And again, that’s ok. But it’s one that felt right to write. We all have times where we’re struggling more than usual, and it’s ok to do the bare minimum for a while. That’s definitely my plan for now.


Taking a chance and hoping it works

June 17, 2021

I’m exhausted. I’m so tired that I just want to fall asleep right now, sitting in my chair. That’s not like me. Sure, I have chronic fatigue, but the exhaustion usually causes me to feel unable to do things, but not to feel sleepy quite like this. This week is different, though. And the reason is my new temporary 4-legged roommate.

If you’re been reading this blog for a while, you know that I want a dog. I have wanted a dog my entire adult life. First I worked and travelled too much, and then I was too sick. Recently, though, my health has improved and stabilized. It’s not great, and I know that a lot of the stability comes from being home during the pandemic. Without spending energy on seeing friends, going to events, running errands, or seeing most doctors in person, I had less fatigue, less pain, and generally better health. Was it great? No, of course not. But it was better. It allowed me to think, not for the first time, about getting a dog.

I’ll skip the details, but basically I have a temporary canine friend here for a while. It will probably be for a month or two, but could be a bit less or a bit more. I’ve done dog sitting before, but this is different. Harder.

For starters, with most dog sitting there’s a known end date, and my dog sitting has never been for more than two weeks. This time there isn’t an end date, and it will definitely be more than two weeks. Also, the dog is usually well trained and this guy isn’t. He’s somewhat trained, which is great (no accidents!) but not entirely. I have had to take him for more walks than with other dogs. I have to watch him carefully to make sure he doesn’t get into things that he shouldn’t (he tried to chew the edge of my carpet.) He’s just over a year and has puppy energy. He naps, but then wants to take a long walk and play.

Thankfully, he sleeps through the night, because I’m not sure how well I’d be functioning if he didn’t. And it’s in the 70s and not humid, which is the best weather I could hope for at this time of year. Still, I’m worn down. Yesterday, during our 86th walk (ok, maybe only the fifth of the day, but it felt like more!), I began asking myself what each of my doctors would say about my current state. My guesses:

  • Therapist: Keep at it, you can do this. But be sure to rest and don’t overstress your adrenals.
  • Rheumatologist: Are you resting enough? Do the best you can, and we’ll see how you do, then talk about it as things progress.
  • Naturopath: I think you’re doing too much. You need to slow down.

Of course, I could be way off. Maybe they’d each say something completely different. Not that it matters, because I’m going to keep at it. I know things will get easier as we get to know each other, form routines, and settle into patterns. And it’s short term. I’m not going to have him for the next ten years, only for a matter of weeks or months. And he’s so cute! I have to admit that when I’m exhausted and then look at that adorable face and pet that soft fur, it does help me to feel better. But then I remember that I need to wash the dishes, and I’m just so tired. I’ve even been eating less the last couple of days because I’m just too tired to eat and digest, and to get up for more food.

I knew the first days and weeks would be the hardest. I’m hoping that he’s with me for long enough that I get to discover if things will get easier. Maybe they will, and I’ll learn that I really can manage having a dog. I hope. Because if not, then I’m going to have a hard time recovering from this, both physically (omg, I’m so exhausted) and emotionally, because I would need to give up on the hope of getting a dog, at least for a while. Only time will tell. I’m really hoping this works. But either way, at least I’m trying. And I feel good about that.


Waves of relief

March 3, 2021

Waiting for the biopsy results was the longest two weeks I’d ever experienced. Why did the pathology lab have to be backed up now, of all times? I was terrified. If it was breast cancer, I wasn’t sure if I could handle it. This might just be the thing that broke me. The thing that was one thing too many. Who even knew that breast cancer could present as a skin irritation? I thought I was seeing the dermatologist for something weird, but benign, and now I was suddenly waiting for biopsy results. Would would I do if it was cancer?

That was more than a dozen years ago. The results came back negative, and I was relieved, and went on with my life. Until two weeks ago. Two weeks ago, I happened to see something weird in my peripheral vision as I passed the bathroom mirror. I looked closer. I had something weird on the side of my breast. It looked like maybe a pimple that had gotten irritated and popped, then scabbed over. Weird. I know pimples on breasts are possible, but I don’t usually get them there. I moved on.

The next day I took another look. The scab looked green-ish and the red area around it had grown larger and darker. Uh oh. I thought of that other time, more than a dozen years ago. It was after hours, but the next morning I called my nurse practitioner’s office and set up a telehealth appointment. My NP is a women’s health specialist, and really knows what she’s doing. I waited anxiously for the next day’s appointment. Then it occurred to me to send in photos. As soon as she saw the photos, the NP told me to come in, and mentioned that we might need to schedule a mammogram. Now it was Saturday, and they were about to finish seeing patients for the day. They didn’t see patients on Sundays and the scheduler wouldn’t be in until Monday. I waited. And waited.

Finally it was Monday, and I reached out first thing to get an appointment. The soonest was Wednesday, but I asked the scheduler to call me if there were any cancellations. I was a nervous wreck. For the first two days I had told myself that I was overreacting by even considering the possibility that this was anything other than benign, but when my NP mentioned a potential mammogram, I knew it wasn’t all in my head. Like I had all those years ago, I wondered if I could handle cancer. I wondered if it would be the thing that broke me. But this time, I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be. I would deal with it, somehow.

I was fairly sure that even if this wasn’t cancerous, it was probably infected. The center scab had come off, then scabbed again, then come off again, even though I was careful not to touch it. Each time the scab came off, it oozed. The center was yellow/green and the surrounding area was red. This was not good, whatever it was. But I had to wait.

The timing was odd. I had my first period in at least a year. I was taking antibiotics for SIBO, a gut issue. Those antibiotics target the gut, though, and wouldn’t help this. I hadn’t been indoors anyplace in 5 months. But if ever there was a time to go indoors despite the pandemic, this was it. This all ran through my head for days. Then on Tuesday, as I sat at my kitchen table sewing masks, the phone rang. There was a cancellation at 1pm. I looked at the clock: 12:21pm. I live 35 minutes away. I took it without hesitation. I shut off the sewing machine, threw my things in a bag, and ran out the door. I ate my lunch in the car with my hands, thankful that I had leftovers available. A cold hamburger patty, cold roasted potatoes, and cold salad never tasted so good.

Even while highly on edge about the thing on my breast, I noticed and was grateful for the office’s excellent Covid protocols. The assistant took my vitals. Then I sat in the room while my NP called me on my cell phone (which I’d been instructed to bring for this purpose) and asked me to explain the situation. This minimized our time together in the room. She came in and washed her hands carefully while clearly trying to distract me with neutral conversation. Then she came over to examine me. It was my first physical contact with a human in months, but I didn’t even notice that part. The only thing I processed was her response: she was relieved. It wasn’t cancer.

I left that office with a prescription for antibiotic ointment and with the confidence that that open sore was not indicative of breast cancer. Then I celebrated. The day before I’d baked cookies, which I ate as comfort food because I was stressed out. Now I ate them to celebrate. I blew off all responsibilities and spent the afternoon playing computer games, taking walks, and relaxing. I happened to see a neighbor’s adorable puppy on one walk, and had a lot of fun playing with him. What a joy!

The next day, I woke up and remembered it all immediately. Again, I felt relieved. Again, I had a relaxing day with few responsibilities. It was just what I needed after such a harrowing week.

Of course, responsibilities can’t be held at bay forever, and I am back to doing the things that must be done. Still, I am hugely relieved. As I put the antibiotic ointment on my breast three times a day and notice that the scab has not reopened and the redness has continued to shrink and fade, I feel the relief all over again. This could have been so much worse. So many times, my body has defied the odds and given me some new terrible condition, but not this time. So this time, I’m celebrating.


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