Sometimes it is faster to swim

So Much To Ponder

I write and write and write about a lot of things. Someone has suggested I write a book about coping with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. Another person suggested that I write a book about coping with pain. The most recent request has been for a book of recipes and cooking tips for people living with chronic health conditions and food allergies/sensitivies. So much to ponder.

How to Move

Life throws so much at us that it is often hard to imagine even moving. Whenever we witness an event of magnitude, we tend to freeze and watch it unfold. Then the fight or flight instincts kick in. Either way, we keep moving forward toward resolution.

Move forward to get over the hump.

Move forward to put the bad behind.

Move forward to deal with it.

Move forward to change you perspective if not your position.

For me, moving forward in any way is a positive step.

On Losing A Key Member of My Support Team

In reading my posts here last summer, I realize many things. First and foremost how different my life is now.  It is clear now that my gut instinct through most of 2009 that something was horribly wrong with my constant companion, QT¶, was actually correct. It is so sad that I wasn't able to articulate enough particulars to get a diagnosis until February of 2010.

Q brought a wonderful life force to me. She came into my life at a time of deep depression while I was searching for my non-working identity and sense of self. She threw me a lifeline, grounding me at home, forcing me to get up each day - out into the world to care for her and reap the benefits of her companionship. She has given me great joy, love, affection, pride and compassion. When I needed her most she was always the core of my support team. I will always love her and remember her as an exceptional creature.

Q was diagnosed with a brain tumor on February 23rd because of balance problems and an inability to get up from her bed after sleeping. She had difficulty walking (the tops of her feet would land on the floor instead of the bottoms) eating (I've been hand/spoon feeding her since mid-January and holding her head up to help her swallow) and she was in a great deal of pain. She also had tremors and was expected to develop seizures soon.

After considering her symptoms and the risk of further injury to herself or others (despite painkillers, she would chew people's hands/feet when she was really hurting) we chose to let her go. I am grateful to have been able to hold her in my arms as she peacefully slipped away on Friday, March 5th.

Her last few days with us were heartbreaking. Below is an entry from my journal on March 1st:

Aside from her obvious pain, for which she is on painkillers, the sadness comes from neurological problems that mostly I bear witness to. When she has been lying down and asleep she is unable to get up and going despite trying valiantly which results in her sprawling spread eagle on the floor, floundering and whining in pain/confusion, until I help her stand and walk a bit. Her head tilts to the right and her right leg/paw swings up and at her head when she walks. Most of the time, her right front paw is curled up - even when standing - and now this is happening with the left front paw too.
 
Though her eyes, nose, mouth and ears work, the neurological connections aren't working properly. She sees and smells food, but can't quite connect with it. Once she does there is a 50-50 chance that she will get it stuck on her nose or mouth and not far enough on the tongue to trigger chewing or swallowing. I let her do as much as she can and then I hand/spoon feed her carefully as she frequently bites me in an over eager attempt to compensate.
 
She hasn't had a full seizure yet. Maybe some mini ones. Her tilted head often shakes rhythmically for about a minute in a metronome cadence. A few times I've noticed her eyes quivering in a pattern that is indicative of seizures.
 
She is no longer interested in long walks or running at the park. I just follow her wherever she wants to go whether it is in the backyard or up and down the block exploring the neighbors' driveways. She stumbles and falls when moving too fast or on uneven ground. On the plus side, accidents inside the house have only been about 1 per week.
 
The heartbreaking part of this is the pain she is clearly in. The sparkle in her eyes is gone, her face is droopy and she whines/cries 80% of the time. She stays attached to me, leaning on me or touching my foot whenever possible. If I'm lying down on the floor to exercise, she puts her head or her whole self on my chest and cries - I pet her and cuddle her for as long as she wants when this happens.

Karl and I are okay. We just didn't want her to be in so much pain. It hurts that much more, even now, having to tell all the wonderful people who have loved her and been such a special part of her life experience that she is no longer waking us up each morning and letting us know when bedtime approaches.

For the immediate future we do not plan to get another dog. We are looking forward to dogsitting some of the many canines we are fortunate to have in our lives. Fred will still be a part of our lives and is expected to visit a few times a year when my dad travels. Perhaps next winter we will find just the right canine addition to our family.