Let her sleep, for when she wakes, she will move mountains.
Let her sleep, for when she wakes, she will shake the world.
Life has been a bit of a blur lately. So much of one that I realized just yesterday, eleven days into August, that we had turned a page on another month; this much closer to cozy autumn days, sweaters and rich colors and falling leaves and other magic.
While I look forward, I have also been consumed for the last two months with something unexpected. In June we took our gorgeous Gracie girl to the vet for her usual checkup. While all outward signs have told us she’s a happy, healthy, vibrant dog, one round of routine lab work and one follow up round a month later have revealed otherwise. There is a problem with her liver, and we don’t yet know what it is.
The process so far has been one of elimination. We spent the first 30 days after the initial testing stopping all of her medications with the hope that they had caused the problem. The second round of tests showed the same scary results as the first. Our efforts didn’t help. Now we are preparing for a third round in a few weeks’ time, and until then our girl will be enjoying an all organic diet, a prescription liver support supplement, as well as other vitamins, minerals and oils to get her back to her healthy best. If these efforts prove futile, ultrasound and biopsy are next on the agenda. And by then, if that moment comes, I will be one doggie mommy on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
For these two months I have been watching her every move. Is she sleeping too much? Drinking too much? Eating too little? Does she want to play like she did before? She is sleeping more than usual, but it doesn’t stop me from constantly looking at her and feeling her for the slightest little bump or irregularity. When all she wants to do is sleep, there I am, Crazy Mommy, interrupting her slumber as I run my hands along the perfect contours of her body, wanting to love her because no matter what I do it never feels like enough. I always get the thump of her tail against the floor or the bed, depending on where she settles. Her precious way of saying Mommy, I don’t mind. I love you. But don’t worry Mommy. I’m going to be just fine.
Yesterday I found her outside in the backyard by herself. I watched through the screen door quietly, just wanting to take in her sense of wonder. How she carefully studied a honeybee in the garden, perched atop my red bell pepper plant. How she gently sat down and looked up at the sky as a plane flew overhead, captivated by its movement and sound against bright blue and sweeps of white, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. I am always learning from this girl. This beautiful, heaven sent, exquisite creature who has held my heart since the day my husband brought her home.
Until that next vet visit, it will be parenthood as usual in this house. We will let her sleep and play and explore and do as she pleases. There will be lots of belly rubs, gentle kisses and Daddy cuddles. And simply enjoying her, and the love that fills this home.
Have an amazing week, everyone.
Give your babes some extra love today, both the four legged kind and two legged kind.
“The essence of being human is that one does not seek perfection.”
It was not my intention to be away for so long; I guess I have been busy with being human~fragile, at times sad, hopelessly breakable. I have been a little dark cloud amid the magnificent late spring sunshine.
I have experienced what has felt like a month-long flu, which has made for miserable mornings and even more miserable afternoons. Sleep has been my only escape. By now I should be used to what lupus and fibromyalgia do to me, but I’m not. The pain has numbed my brain. Projects have been set aside. My camera goes untouched. I started my fiction novel in March, and I haven’t written a single word in weeks. I am also going through some intensely personal things; complicated things that hurt, things I can’t really talk about for the sake of others, things for which there is no other solution than to let go and move forward when all I feel is frozen.
My mind drifts to the celebratory passages that come with this time of year, the ones that create the deliciousness, the essence, of life. Graduations. Vacations. Bliss. It brings me to what illness has taken away, what I don’t get to experience in the here and now. As a young girl and later into my teens, I looked ahead into a future and saw a brave and inventive life. Today, on those days when I choose, and on those days when I literally have to fight for happiness, I am fueled by the thought that I still have a chance to create moments and milestones, that I still have time for bravery and invention.
There is always the future. Something different, something better, than what exists today.
Pain is both mask and unveiling. I have longed to hide away and not be seen, but when I can’t, I often successfully force a laugh or smile. However, healing doesn’t dwell in this well versed facade. It can only be born from the tears, vulnerability and freedom that come with being honest. I will get through this, just like I have before. As a sick person, I often feel like my circle of support and love is constantly growing smaller. In some ways it is true~some friends lose patience or drift away altogether~but my circle remains unbreakable in the most significant ways; my marriage is strong, my family unwavering, and my dearest friends will always understand. Projects will always be there waiting, and to them I will most definitely return.
I just need to feel better and get on with living, with both arms wide open.