Thursday, November 30, 2017

grief / joy

2017 November


Grief/Joy

Recently I reread a post to our now defunct travel blog, in which I memorialized Greyla, who had been our 'final' dog and also our travel companion. She left us in November 2014, eleven months after my Daddy died. Daddy was diagnosed with stage 4 non-small cell lung cancer in February 2013. We left Florida, and returned to Pittsburgh, in order to spend time with him. During our stay in the only campground open in winter in the Pittsburgh area, our then nearly 14 year old dog, began to present symptoms which lead to her having major surgery just a couple of weeks before her birthday. At the time, I told God that I could not handle losing both my Dad and my dog in the same year. 

Seemed like God decided otherwise. My Dad passed away in January, 2014. We had Greyla with us until November, 2014. Both gone in the same year, granted eleven months apart, but still… I supposed that God decided eleven months was enough space for healing. It really wasn’t.

All of this has resurfaced in the past couple of days. I have begun to revisit the cumulative grief, and to a lesser degree, the joy, that we experience when we open our hearts and allow ourselves to love.

The catalyst for the current examination of joy, and grief results from our current experience as foster parents to a lovely, sweet, gentle, 12 year old black Lab, named Coco.

Coco was taken to the Beaver County Humane Society by the son of her previous owner, with the request that she be euthanized. The shelter staff explained that they could not, in good conscience, euthanize her simply based on her age, but offered to take her into the shelter, and try to place her, if they would sign Coco over. 

Coco’s entrance into our lives and hearts came a couple of weeks later.

Ray and I often do cat transports for Beaver County Humane Society, and also happen to be friends with the veterinarian currently working at BCHS. Those two things worked together to effectively draw us into the world of fostering, which we had never even considered prior to August.

Before Coco came into our lives, I had been adamant that I was done as a dog parent. I had loved Blue, Jake, Baxter, Katie, and Greyla. I had cried tears of loss with each of them, but especially with Blue, and Jake, and Greyla. I had changed. I now appreciated having a clean house. I was so certain that dogs were part of my past, and not of my future, that we adopted a bonded pair of kitties. "Yes!" I declared,"Cats are so much easier than dogs." And I enumerated all the ways in which that was so. 

Yet, when we sat in the visitation room, at the shelter, in August, with Coco, she began to worm her way into my heart, stink and all! Jump ahead, from our initial meeting with Coco, on August 16, to the day we brought her home, on August 19, to how we have fallen in love with her, to very recently, when we became worried about her health. 

A few weeks ago I began to notice that Coco’s breath was getting very stinky. My concern was that she might be developing a renal issue, although her fluid intake and output remained consistent. Then last weekend, I noted that her water was tinged pink after she had been drinking. I tried to examine her mouth, using a flashlight, but couldn’t really notice anything wrong with any of her teeth, the roof of her mouth, or her gums. But then, I am not a veterinary medical professional. So, I contacted the one person I could access easily at the BCHS, via messenger on Facebook. She, in turn, contacted the medical person from the shelter. 

Then later, during business hours, I was at the shelter for a transport, and spoke with one of the technicians, who said that there would be no Vet available until Tuesday, since the shelter is closed for business on Sunday and Monday, and this was Saturday afternoon. I said that I understood, and that I would’ve texted the Vet personally, but really didn’t want to impinge  on our friendship, especially since it didn’t seem to be life threatening, and the amount of pinkness left behind in her water seemed to be lessening. Of course, her breath was still atrocious! But, it kind of was beginning to match her general metabolic stench, for which we have not yet found a cure.

Weird, huh? Coco is old, and stinky, but we love her! She is simply a sweet, gentle, amazingly non-reactive, dog. She is sweet with our kitties, and with our next door neighbor’s kitties, as well. When we are out walking, and dogs bark at her, she never reacts. She is the most "chill" dog we have ever known. She is very predictable in her day to day habits. She eats what we give her. She takes her medication, her supplements, and anything else we offer her, without any drama, or problem. She actually prefers when I place the paste-like probiotic she takes, in the palm of my hand, and allow her to lick it off, rather than placing it in a syringe and squirting it into her mouth. She never has attempted to get on any of the furniture, or the bed. She dislikes being too warm, and often opts to lay directly on the tile floor, instead of on the rug, or on her bed. She barks only when she is needful to go outside to pee or poop, and then it is generally one, sad, plaintive "wooof". She is simply, a good dog. And I love her! And, she loves me. She usually will follow me to whichever room I am in, and when I go into the bathroom, she stares at the shut door, until I once again emerge. 


So, grief and joy… currently the grief is because we will, in all probability, lose Coco sometime within the next 2-3 months. She has an infected, cancerous growth under her tongue. I can, today, type that without immediately being reduced to a sobbing mess. She is on antibiotics to try and get the infection under control. So far, her appetite is not affected, nor is her ability to chew. She does not exhibit signs of pain. So, the plan is to offer palliative care, observe and treat any pain development, or appetite issues, and help her to feel loved, cared for, and comfortable, until the end of her days. The joy currently comes from remembering how sad and forlorn she looked in the kennel at the shelter, and knowing that she has been happy here, with us. The joy comes from waking up in the middle of the night, and hearing her snoring on her bed, in the corner of our room. Joy comes from simple things, like taking her for walks around the neighborhood, watching her scarf up her kibble and bone broth, seeing her stroll to the kitchen after our walk, because she knows that’s where the treats are, and she knows that she gets a treat when we get home. Today, joy came from watching her catch 6 hulless popcorns in a row with missing. Joy comes from knowing that she has known love in our home. 

But, grief and joy come and go, and not always in balance.

Hearing the diagnosis on Tuesday afternoon was a gut punch! And it opened unexpected flood gates to past grief. But, I am blessed to have a good friend who offered support, and insight. I am also blessed to have a "pollyanna" husband, who even in the midst of this circumstance, which affects him too, was able to find good. It is a hard situation, but we have been through hard events before, and come through, so I have faith that we will ultimately be OK. 

In the meantime, we will walk our sweet old girl, brush her, give her treats and medicine, put bone broth on her food, cook her brown rice because she likes it, let her sleep where she wants, listen to the sound of her snoring, help her to live a happy, loved rest of her life, and be grateful that we brought her into our home, our lives and and our hearts!    
    



Saturday, November 18, 2017

Driving Anxiety

2017 November 18

From a Facebook post by Anxiety & I:

"The thing about an anxiety disorder is that you know it is stupid.You know with all your heart that it wasn’t a big deal and that it should roll of of you. But that is where the disorder kicks in; Suddenly the small thing is very big and it keeps growing in your head, flooding your chest, and trying to escape from under your skin. You know with all of your heart that you’re being ridiculous and you hate every minute of it. The fact that many people don’t recognize or have patience for your illness only makes everything worse."
__________________________________________________________________
THIS! 
This is so true. 
My experience with anxiety/panic has become intensified since our involvement in a seven car collision in late October 2016. I cannot say that I never experienced anxiety related to driving prior to that incident. I can say that the anxiousness was never debilitating before. I could always mollify any anxiety by preparation. If I blocked out a course to follow, I was usually OK. If possible, when time was not a factor, I often would travel secondary roads. The advent of Google Maps and street view, which allowed me to familiarize myself with roads and landmarks along my route, was a definite boon. Yet now, today, well over a year past the accident, I find myself becoming a total basket case when required to drive on certain 4, or 6, or more lane highways, particularly in high traffic situations.

I know that what I am freaking out about is performing a common action (driving a car, in traffic, on a multi-lane highway). I know this is something I have done without incident in the past, and hope to do without incident in the future. BUT, in the here and now, I am flooded with anxiety that expands and grows until the panic is all I am aware of,... well, that, and the tunnel vision, the inability to breath normally, the sometimes crushing chest pain, facial tics - and the fear - and the anger! 

I get angry!
I get angry with myself for feeling this way. 
Angry at other drivers who don't seem to have any fear of anything! 
I get angry with passengers who don't "get it", with family who seem completely unable to understand why their wife, sister, friend, is hyperventilating behind the wheel.  
Angry - mostly at myself for allowing(?) this disorder to consume me and become such a huge part of my life!

I am angry now, just thinking about my inability to simply drive on a multi-lane highway to go visit my pseudo grand kids, my friends, even my nearby family. If I can't get there on a "back road" - a 2 lane road, with top speeds of 45mph, I can't go! Oh, there are a couple of local 4 lane roads I drive on, but never with complete ease or with anything resembling relaxation. 

This is NOT how I planned to spend my retirement! I hoped with free time, would come visits to friends and family; jaunts to the Great Lakes, searching for beach glass. Instead, my panic keeps me prisoner.  I want to be able to get in my little Subaru and drive to have lunch with my friend in Ohio; to visit N and G, outside Montreal; to travel to the UP again; to vacation with my brothers and sister anywhere; to finally meet up with people who have become good friends via the Internet. Those things are not going to happen as long as anxiety wells up, leads to panic, and as in the latest attack, cause me to think I am having a stroke, because of the tics I can feel happening in my face. Those came along with the shallow breathing, the crushing pain in my chest, and tunnel vision. Add to the mix the fact that my brain seems to lose the ability to think rationally, to view the problem and find any solution. Even if the person next to me becomes aware that I am in dire straights, unless they know to give me specific, detailed instruction on how I should proceed, what they say will not penetrate my brain in any useful way. It truly is a nightmare, and when I am in the middle of it, it feels as if there is NO ESCAPE!

When I try to ignore it, to press on, as I did on the way home from the family vacation my brother invited me to share, I ruin the experience for everyone because of my crippling panic. Where the post says, "You know with all your heart you are being ridiculous and you hate every minute of it," that is absolutely the truth! I knew I was NOT having a stroke, as I drove along I-64, outside of Norfolk. I knew I was being "ridiculous" and I DID hate every minute of it! But, I was powerless to stop it! 



Saturday, November 11, 2017

ADAPTATIONS/ADJUSTMENTS

Adaptations/Adjustments

Our Eva, one of the bonded pair of kitties we adopted from the Animal Rescue League, through their foster Mom, Jackie, in January 2016, is back in our home again. She had been out and about to places unknown for part of the summer and fall. She escaped in the wee hours of the morning, on August 24, and remained an escapee until this past week, when we were reunited.

Now is a period of adjustment. 

The adaptations are not just for Eva, though a few things that directly affect her have changed since she left so abruptly. It is also, a time of adjustment for Tubbs, Eva’s playmate and friend. There are modifications to be made by the humans in the house currently, as well, since there is an additional person present for a few months. It seems as if the only creature with no need for any adaptation relating to Eva’s return, or the presence of another human, is Coco, our foster dog. Coco is about the most 'chill' dog I have ever met! Relatively non-reactive, in any circumstance.

There have been some big changes related to the cats: their play areas; the placement of their litter boxes; location change for feeding of dry cat food. Some of these modifications happened bc of the need to keep Coco from eating the cat’s food. Some reworking, like their play area, and moving litter boxes happened because of our friend coming to visit. We needed to give PK a room on the second floor, and use of the half bath next to her room. The room chosen for her stay is at the rear of the house, and formerly contained the large cat tree. The cats previously had use of both bedrooms on the second floor as a romping area where they chased one another to their heart’s content. The half bath was where one of their litter boxes lived. Tubbs seemed to be adapting to the cat tree being in the front room, and the placement of the litter box in the corner of that room, as opposed to in the half bath, since PK’s arrival nearly two weeks ago. Of course, all of this was before Eva returned. Since her return three days ago, I’m guessing this has been a lot for her to habituate to. PK, too has to make adjustments now that there are two cats attempting to reclaim what is meant to be her room.

Poor Eva seems a bit more skittish than she used to be. She always was profoundly reactive to sudden movements, and to loud noises. She is even more so now. She used to be a very quiet cat, who rarely meowed, and when she did it was very softly, barely audible. Never once did I know her to hiss or to growl. All that has changed. It makes me sad to wonder what kind of situations she faced that she has developed into a hissing, growling, loud meowing creature. She and Tubbs were best buds. Not so much, at present. To his credit, Tubbs seems to be able to give Eva wide berth when she needs it, yet continues to approach her periodically, as if trying to jog her memory -- "remember when we used to play like this?" 

I see gradual, tiny improvements in Eva each day. Last night, I went to bed before Raymond, and I was surprised when Eva jumped onto the bed, curled up next to my tummy, allowed me to pet her, and purred, contentedly. It didn’t last very long, though. She heard PK coming down the stairs into the kitchen, and that was enough to cause her to bolt. 

An advancement came today, as she ate both her morning and evening wet food in the place where we have always fed the cats. Another positive development happened when Eva stayed put, eating her wet food this evening, after Coco entered the kitchen. Coco sat with her hindquarters very near to Eva’s, and Eva stayed, eating. Yesterday, that action would’ve caused Eva to dash from the room. In fact, yesterday, Coco simply entering any room where Eva was, would cause her to run for the basement.

I guess readjustment comes in baby steps. I truly hope that Eva regains her sense of peace and trust, especially where Tubbs is concerned. Still, it has only been 3 days, and she was gone from us for 67 days! 



EVA'S RETURN

2017 November 11

One of our two cats, Eva, AKA 'Eva Diva', has been returned to our home, after spending nearing eleven weeks at large. We are ecstatic to have her home again! The strain we felt, caused by her unknown fate, was horrible.  Many people encouraged us continue to be hopeful. They sited examples of cats who had been gone for up to a year before suddenly reappearing. But, as time passed, we were less and less hopeful that our Eva would ever return to us.

We fielded and reacted, over the months, to phone calls in response to the flyers we plastered around our area, as well as posts on various social media sites, and correspondence with various area shelters. We made trips at 10pm to investigate "a cat on the deck that might be yours", as well as long drawn out vigils in the very early morning in front of a house where, "I have been feeding your cat for a month". None of these produced even a glimmer of our Eva. 

We set up a trap, baited with sardines and dry cat food, and included clothing with our scents.

We climbed through the woods, searching tree tops.

Kind neighbors searched the Park nearby each time they walked their dog, and walked around the area, calling her name.

We went door to door in the neighborhood and a couple of blocks beyond, passing out flyers with Eva’s name and picture.

Yet, ten weeks and five days passed, and we had no idea what had become of Eva. Ray, ever an optimist, insisted that she simply had been picked up by someone because she was a sweet, friendly kitty. While, I, the depressive, pondered the possibility that she had been killed by a coyote, or worse. 

Then, on Tuesday evening, November 7, we went to Carnegie Music Hall in Homestead, for a concert. I turned off my phone, so as not to have it be a distraction from the music. There was also a Penguins game that evening, and as I shut my phone off, I saw that the Pens were ahead, 2-0.

During intermission, Ray went off into the crowd, while I stayed my seat, pulling out my phone, intent on learning the current score of the Pens game. Imagine my shock when I turned my phone on and saw numerous messages in a variety of formats, from Jackie! (Jackie was the young woman who had fostered Eva & Tubbs after they were spayed and neutered by the Animal Rescue League) The very first thing that caught my eye was a picture she sent. A picture I KNEW immediately to be Eva! 

It seems that someone of one of the social media pages had made the connection between a cat their grandfather had taken in after feeding it for awhile outside, and my and Jackie’s posts of "lost Eva", on social media!

I was ecstatic! I called Melanie, the woman whose PapPap currently had Eva. I messaged, and then called Jackie, who confirmed what I thought : THIS IS EVA !!!!!!! 

When Ray returned to his seat, I filled him in on everything that had transpired. He, too, was 99.9% certain that this was indeed, our Eva! 

Because we were in Homestead, and our kitty was in a warm home in Harmony Township, Melanie and I planned to meet up the following day, after she got home from work, at her Grandfather’s home. It was going to be a long day of waiting, especially after such a long time missing Eva. But, I understood that Melanie wanted to be present when we came to identify Eva, especially since she orchestrated the reunion. But, also, because her PapPap had grown fond of Eva, and he is of frail health, and she was concerned for him. 

Melanie called, and we planned to meet at her Pap’s house at 6PM. Her Pap is a sweet, kind soul. He was gracious to us, even as he teared up over Eva, whom he called, "Bubbles". But, I’m getting ahead of myself…

When we came into the living room, PapPap was sitting in his recliner, watching TV. Eva was sitting on the sofa, behind and to his left. Melanie was present, as was her husband, sitting at the other end of the couch from Eva. 

Eva had her head down as we entered the room. I saw her, and said, "Eva... Eva Diva", as I would’ve if I were calling her to come eat. When she heard my voice, her head snapped up, she looked directly at me, and her already big eyes became saucers! It was amazing! After months of looking, seeing cats who were sort of like her, but not her, this was simply a miracle! 

We spoke with Pap at length, letting him know how grateful we were for his kindness, and his empathy toward Eva, and how we had grieved her escape since late summer. We wanted to tell him he could come visit her, since we only live ½ mile away, but Melanie had asked me not to make that offer. Pap struck me as a sweet, kind, gentle human being who is perhaps in frail health at this point in his journey. He was concerned that we had a litter box for "Bubbles", "because, you know, she’ll use it!"  I was touched deeply by his concern for this "stray" cat he had been feeding and then brought into his home because the weather had turned too cold/wet for her to be outside! After the emotional ups and downs over the past ten plus weeks, while Eva was missing, this neighborly, compassionate, considerate, elderly man restored my crumbling faith in the goodness of people.

Eva, our little Diva kitty is HOME!!!!