BURNING THE MIDNIGHT OIL

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It is another sleepless night. Somehow I knew it was too easy. It’s only a little over a week since Sheba’s developed her ear hematoma. Two trips to the dog ER to get it drained 21 cc and 11 cc respectively. A followup 2-3 days later resulted in 5 cc drained. All of this has been very draining for all us, humans and canine. Sheba already had a bit of sundowning just before all this happened. Since, the nights have been worse. So the vet suggested a short course of trazodone. It would chill and help her recovery from her ear traumas. It all sounded wonderful but wasn’t. The first day, the trazodone knocked her out. Her legs didn’t really work well. When she was awake, she would pace like a stoned dog. So I decreased her dose a little. Whereas she was restless only at night, she became restless day and night. Our nerves were raw from her ceaseless pacing and banging into things with her head cone.

If something doesn’t work, why keep doing it? After 4 days on the trazodone, I stopped it. Sheba slowly became more her old self during the day. She would lay down on her pillows by herself. Hope was on the horizon. We leased her to the piano leg at night so she could not pace and bang around. We need some sleep. It worked last night. We all slept in till 8 in the morning. Hallelujah, right?

Today’s or rather yesterday’s vet checkup showed that she does have an ear infection. A good reason to rejoice. There was a cause , therefore an end to all this misery we’re going through. We were jubilant and came home armed with earwash, antibiotic eardrops and oral antibiotics. Earlier in the day my order of melatonin for Sheba and some for me came. I dosed us each with 3 mg. All was well. Sheba settled and relaxed on her pillow. Then it was bedtime. I took Sheba out for her business.

The disappointment was keen. But at least I had 2 hours of sleep when I woke and heard her panting. Perhaps I should have ignored her but I was never good at it. She gets more stressed and worked up. Then she starts barking. Yes, she is a smart dog. She knows how to get attention. But she is 13 and has an infection. Human elders with infection do the same. So here I am, sitting on the stool beside her. I’m tap, tapping away, hoping for a better day. It is almost 4 am. She is at least relaxed and laying down.

Things feel very difficult at times but they are getting better. Her ear has stopped bleeding. Surgery is not needed. The underlying cause has been discovered. Treatment has started. Nothing is easy nor simple. Hope her night time anxiety and restless with improve with melatonin increased omega 3’s. I am doing fairly well with all this. When I accept what is, I am less stressed and more at peace with it. This is what we have to do. One day at a time. Sheba deserves the best from me. She has and still is giving me much joy.

 

SITTING UP WITH THE FUR BABY

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So I’m sitting up with Sheba tonight. She’s been through a lot the last 2 days. Sunday morning we noticed her left ear was swollen like a perogy. We took her in to the ER at the Veterinary College. She was diagnosed with an aural hematoma. They drained 21 cc of bloody fluid from her ear under sedation. She was a very sleepy dog after. Though she walked out to the reception area under her own steam, her legs gave out right after. She sank to the floor in a puddle. She had to be carried out to the truck and then into the house.

I thought for sure she would have a speedy recovery, that it would not recur so soon. I was wrong! Though her ear was tightly bandaged and she was so sleepy, somehow she managed to worked her ear out by morning. And she was still pretty groggy, plastered to the floor in the hallway. To our dismay her earlobe looked full again though not quite as bad as before. So after hemming, hawing and talking to the vet clinic, we took her back in late afternoon. They drained 11 cc this time without sedation. We were happy that she was not so zonked but now I’m not sure. A tad sleepy would be ok.

I’m not complaining. It’s possible that she got whacked in the ear by my twirling hula hoop. I couldn’t see. She was behind me but I heard a thump. I don’t know where she got hit. I was surprised that she would get so close to a moving thing. Usually she is afraid of strange moving objects. Ear infections could also cause hematomas but her ears are clear and clean. So I do feel responsible. My poor baby.

She’s finally laid down on her fat pillow with her chin resting on her cone. I’m holding my breath as I sit beside her tap, tapping on the keyboard. Maybe I can make a quiet trip to the bathroom, lay down, turn out the lights and get some shut eye.

It was about 40 minutes of sleep for her. I almost got off to zzz. That’s when I heard the bang of her cone on the floor. Oh well, it was enough to ease the tension between my brows. Good enough! I got up and gave her a couple of spoonfuls of rice, hoping some carbs would mellow her out. It worked the last time. I had some toasted sourdough bread. I shared some crumbs with her. I cannot insist and force how she, a dog should be. It would only stress both of us out. So I let her just wander and bang about, making sure she does not hurt herself. She will get tired again and have another lay down.

Patience, I tell myself.  I can be calm. She can see that I’m here and everything is ok. I thought about giving her something for pain but googling tells me human painkillers are no no for dogs. It’s so typical that we caretakers are left up the creek without a paddle. When I asked the vet doctor about something pain, she said to call first. In the middle of the night that I would go to the vet pharmacy? Situations don’t change for human or canine patients.

I just have to suck it up and accept the situation. Tomorrow will be better. Sheba’s ear will feel better. The bandage and cone will not bug her as much. She won’t be so pissed off. I’m just pulling a night shift, sitting with my child who has a head injury. Once in awhile we go out for ‘potty’ , stretch our legs and a change of scene. It will wear off some of her anxiety. It’s the afternoon walk we never got the last two days. She’s getting good at navigating the deck stairs with that thing on her head.

I’m off to make myself a cup of tea and maybe a bit more sourdough toast. It’ll be breakfast. Maybe Sheba will get another mouthful of rice and fall asleep. I’m not in any rush. I have nothing to do. I have nowhere to go. We can sleep in the morning. It’s not long off.

 

BEYOND WORDS

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I am here again, though somewhat reluctantly. I am like a well/river gone dry. I have little water/words to give. My flow is gone and I am stuttering along, scraping the bottom for dregs of wisdom/experience. I show up once in awhile to stir the pot, aggitate the scene a little to see what will come alive. I hope I still have some sparks left. I’m still taking my Omega 3’s, 1,000 mg. three times a day. Sheba is, too. We old gals need our fish oils to keep our brains and hips lubricated and working. Life can be a hard grind. I see it Sheba’s stiff and slow rise each morning.

I can’t hold back our advancing years and hips, no matter how much and hard I try. But I can slow it down a bit. We might not be as agile as in our youth. We can no longer jump and leap as well, but we can at least try to stay strong and land on our feet.  It has been and still is an interesting and fulfilling ride. We still love and do many things. There have been times though that have been tough, painful and boring. What goes up must also come down. That is nature and the law. Would we want it any other way?

So I sigh a lot, bitch a little and carry on the best I can. I still love words, the tap, tap, tap of my fingers on the keyboard and seeing the letters march across my computer screen. I am thrilled when I get a lightbulb moment, tickled by a clever phrase that pops into my head. And when I find that photo that brings everything together, I am beyond words. In other words, I am elated. The struggle is worth the effort.

 

GETTING OVER AND OUT OF MYSELF

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November is the hardest month, especially without snow to light up the grey. Yesterday it rained. Then snow came and melted. It was not an easy day. It was a day of pushing and prodding myself to show up and make my own sunshine. The less I show up, the less I want to. The less I talk, the less I have to say. Is there a message here? Is this a season of silence? Is it a time for me to rest and hibernate, to restore and refill my body and spirit?

There are so many things I rather not do, so many places where I don’t want to show up. It’s childish talk. I like to lay down, kick my legs up and down and have a tantrum. I don’t wanna! I don’t wanna! But who would pay attention and listen? I just have to suck it up and do those I rather nots. Life does go on, with or without me. Remember that rhetoric? It’s a truism. I don’t want to be left behind, not when I’m still breathing. I will go along for the ride. I might as well put in a good effort or else it will be a wasted trip.

I will have to pull up my socks again, stand tall and square my shoulders to face the world. It’s not so bad or hard once I’ve made the decision and begin. The words are coming back. They are marching across my screen, forming sentences and thoughts. Ideas are popping into my head and fingers as they tap on the keyboard. I feel the light and energy coming back into my body. Hope is not out of reach as fatigue and the humdrum of the everyday recedes. The ordinary is coming alive again for me. Perhaps seeing Picasso’s linocut collection on still life at the Remai Modern yesterday stirred some excitement in me. It made me think and look at things in different ways. Perhaps that’s the function of art.

 

 

 

 

50 WAYS OF GETTING OVER MYSELF

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Egad! I’ve been absent too often. Now I find it difficult to show up. Life has been difficult. How many times have I said it already? Enough, I need to get over myself. I need to get a job or something. It is a job trying to kick aside all the stuff that doesn’t work. It is a job trying not to whine like my old self. It’s hard to see from a different perspective. Sheba is helping me in that regard.

The other evening I was trying to coax her to go downstairs with me. She has no trouble scrambling down when someone comes in through the front door. She’s so excited she’s down there like a flash. But when she has to think about it, she’s unsure, hesitant and won’t go sometimes. I don’t know what she was thinking the other night. She paused, hesitated and jumped down the whole flight in two leaps. There was a great deal of noise as she bounced off midway and then on the landing. It was astonishing how she landed on her feet both times. My heart was in my mouth. It taught me a lesson. And that is to let her go down when she wants to, not when I want her to.

It led me also to look at the stairs from her eye level. I squatted down to her height. Them stairs do look pretty steep! Why she felt she had to jump them all at once is beyond me. Maybe when she is unsure and anxious, all she could focus on was the landing and not the individual steps. It’s a lesson not to outguess a dog’s mind or people’s. I have this thought that everyone’s mind works like mine. I might have this tendency to be preachy and give unwanted advice. I suppose I could be offensive. It’s hard to be objective about oneself. But I’m owning up to it from my present day perspective. I have to get over myself because I’m offended by me myself.

I remember an incidence at work years ago. I was a nurse in a teaching hospital, the Royal University Hospital to be exact. Some of our staff had a tendency to change the staffing sheet themselves if they don’t like the unit they’re assigned to or the people they don’t like to work with. I felt that this really wasn’t the right thing to do. I voiced my opinion in our communication book. What I said was to raise the question, if you don’t want to work in a certain unit or with someone, what makes you think that they would or that they want to work with you? And that you are not erasing a name on the worksheet. There’s a person to the name. I saw that it caused a buzz as I saw people poured over the book. Later at lunch, my manager chastised me in front of everyone that what I wrote was offensive. I myself found her offensive reprimanding me in the cafeteria and in front of everyone. I picked up my tray and left, not wanting to be more offensive.

Looking back now, I would probably do the same thing. It was the right thing to do even if some people are offended by it. I would try to be a little more dignified in the cafeteria though and not cry. I just have to get over myself, this constant worry about pleasing others. Well, I haven’t got 50 ways of getting over myself yet. Sheba and I are working on it.

LET IT BE PRO RE NATA

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I was so delighted by all that sunshine this morning. All the heaviness fell off my body. It helped too that I had a healthy dose of sleep last night – almost nine hours. AND the fact that I’m not that mouse on the tread wheel screaming: I have to fix it! I have to fix it! Yesterday, I gave myself permission to languish prn. Prn comes from the Latin ‘pro re nata’ meaning when necessary.

It’s the nurse in me coming out, though I am no longer a nurse. I’ve hung up my cap and taken off my duty shoes. Old memories are still alive and kicking around somewhere in my body and soul. The memories are ok. Some are good. Some are not but they all can stay. They all contributed to the sum total of who I am today. It is time to let go of the duty part though. It is always the right thing to help one another if I can. It is not my duty to fix anything, anyone or even myself. Just listen and let be. I have to knock the duty part off and have a happy retirement like my cake says.

It’s taken me a frigging long time to arrive here – 6 years post retirement. I’m not complaining. I’m marvelling. It’s been such an interesting journey. I’m feeling the lightness and weightlessness after dropping some self-taken burdens. What a dork! I could kick myself around the block but I won’t. I know we all have moments like these. We don’t know what we don’t know. We will when we’re ready.

Happy Thursday. Now I have to take Sheba around a few blocks, a happy self-imposed duty.

LANGUISHING WITH SHEBA

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I don’t know what it is, but it seems like all my best laid plans have gone awry. My natural response has always been: I have to fix it! I have to fix it! I’m that mouse running on the wheel, getting dizzy, going nowhere. I’ve finally fell off. Not going to do the same any more. I’m not giving in or throwing up my hands in defeat. I just like to do something else. I want to get off the well beaten path. It’s hard to do. I know how tempting and comforting the old familiar is. But I’ll give it a good old try.

I’m sitting in my pjs and housecoat, basking in November’s weak tepid sunshine. It still brings my discouraged heart up a notch and a weak smile to my lips. I don’t have much to say but I like to feel the keys beneath my fingertips. It’s comforting to hear and feel the tap, tap, tap. I like to watch the black letters and words march across the page. It warms me from the inside out, much like watching Sheba languishing on her pillow last night. She has a face that makes my heart smile. I sit and let all these comforting feelings come into me. I rest in their comfort, remembering their essence.

There really is nothing that I must do. There is nothing to fix. Everything is as it should be. I have this time to linger and languish in my sunfilled room. Let nothing enter to cloud and clutter my mind. Let them all float by, the thoughts and the feelings, like clouds in the sky. I’ve been in sitting meditation with Mark Williams every morning now for months. Some of it is taking hold. Now I am able to sit in silence, with self guidance for 20 minutes. Some days are better than others. That is why it is call a practice. It is something I must do more of.

ANOTHER A&W MORNING

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Life is messy. My house is messy. My head is messy. That’s how they feel to me. There’s a correlation between it all. I don’t know how to clean them up. I don’t know where to begin. I’m a little antsy. I’m a little stressed. I got a yen for something sweet. So I ate 2 little Coffee Crisp bars left from Hallowe’en. They’re very little. I’m having a green tea to counteract them. I know it’s faulty rationale but it is the best I can come up with.

I did enjoy the chocolate bars immensely. Sometimes I just have to indulge. I might as well get pleasure and not guilt from doing it. I did this the other day. I’ve just done it again today. I am feeling annoyed with everything in my universe lately. It’s just a feeling I’m not sure I’m entitled to. It helps me to tap about it. It helps to do something else besides obsessing about it. Nothing changes without action.

It’s about a week now since I wrote those words. It’s another Saturday – still my favourite day of the week. I haven’t fallen off my swimming wagon. I was late but I still showed up. I got in 16 lengths, in 30 minutes, 4 short of my usual 20. I was impressed with myself, feeling powerful. Not only that, yesterday I jumped up on 3 risers after our exercise class was over.  Not long ago I was afraid to jump on just the platform without any risers. Every little extra thing I can do beyond myself gives me a little boost. It’s a good reason to indulge in an A&W whole enchilada breakfast.

My goal now is to get to the pool on time Saturday mornings and go for 22 lengths. I will practice a little while on jumping 3 risers till I gain enough confidence. Then I will try for 4 risers. It’s really mickey mouse when you look at this guy.

 

BEING LOST, BEING AT HOME WITH MYSELF

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Some dreary November days, I feel a pang of depression passing through me. It’s akin to someone walking over my grave. I paid it due attention. I don’t like it. I feel my lips curling up with contempt. How dare it come to disturb me? I let it register itself in my body for a moment. I hate it. I will not let it take residence in me. It has to leave. I show it the door.

Some days I am the master of my mansion. There have been days when I have not. I have not always been the captain of my life. I have been adrift upon the open sea without an anchor. It’s taken me this long to see it but it IS better late than never. Now I can invest in some anchors, a compass to find the true north, a GPS to show me routes to my desired destination. It’s not too late. It’s not over till it’s over.

Getting lost is not the worse thing, the end of the world. I have learned many lessons in my years of floundering in the wilderness. For one thing, I would get lost less often if I had a map and a plan of how I was to get to point A or B. For another, letting lost was exactly the thing for me to do. There was a pot of gold waiting for me along the wrong round about. Maybe all roads do lead to Rome.

To tell the truth, I’ve never been bothered much being lost. I was comfortable and at home with it because I am lost all the time. In the same way, I am not bothered much by regrets. For sure, I moan alot like everybody else, that I wish I had done things differently. But now, here, in this moment, I know that if I could have done something else, I WOULD have. I have done the best I could in every moment of my life. I know that. I am happy with myself and my life. It doesn’t get any better than this.

THE END OF OCTOBER

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The end of October at last! And it’s Hallowe’en. I have to admit that I don’t like Hallowe’en at all. Sheba doesn’t either. She is scared of the yards decorated with ghosts and goblins, witches, coffins, pumpkins et al. She growls as she looks over her shoulder at them trotting by sideways. There’s no comforting and reassuring her until they are out of site. Come time for those trick and treaters ringing the doorway, it’s ear deafening barking till they leave and another bunch comes. So what’s fun about that? Bah humbug! I don’t have a fun bone in my body.

Should I apologize for that? I am having a bit of a bad attitude at the moment. My sleep has been disturbed by malicious neighbour committing acts of vandalism. I know, I sound like a broken record. I know it all sounds petty. I’m sure that’s how bullied children feel. That it’s petty. That they will not be believed. It seeps into your pysche and fester like a sliver under your fingernails. I don’t feel any better for having reported to the police. I know that they are trained to be neutral but are they?  The occasions that I have spoken with them lately, l felt I was the criminal. I felt I was going through customs.

I will get through this soon and my chatter will stop. In the meantime, I will educate myself how to deal with this shit better. I’ve listened to an Oprah podcast with Malcolm Gladwell on his book, Talking to Strangers: What We Should Know about the People We Don’t Know. Then there’s his David and Goliath: Underdogs, Misfits, and the Art of Battling Giants. I think I sort of fit into the midget underdog category. I do feel intimidated by police and neighbour. I hope to glean some insight and tools from Malcolm. In the meantime I shall :

  1. Do the best as I can.
  2. Try to get more sleep.
  3. Keep to my exercise regime.
  4. Keep to my meditation regime.
  5. Stop thinking of neighbour problem. I have set things in motion. Let the process take care of it.
  6. Keep my regular writing practice.
  7. Try to develop a fun bone.
  8. Do the lunch dishes.
  9. Take Sheba out for her walk

The end. Amen.