Tag Archives for acceptance

I Want A Dog But I Can’t Have One

I’ve wanted a dog for a long time.

Not for the sake of satisfying a fetishized idea of what it is to own a dog; the way I’ve seen people who go out and buy tiny teacup dogs that can fit in purses to match with their favourite celebrities. I’ve wanted a dog because I really do like dogs and because I fell head over heels in love with my dad’s dog a few years ago when I visited him during what I refer to as my “tropical test trip” to figure out if I could handle traveling long distances and flying in general.

My dad’s dog is adorable. You can see him for yourself right here:

_______________ Chance _______________

 

I returned home from that trip thinking of nothing but when I could get a dog, and more importantly, how I would cope with caring for it while living with daily pain. I didn’t want to become the kind of dog owner who only walks their dog when it’s absolutely necessary. I didn’t, and still don’t, want to subject a dog or any animal to being stuck within the walls of my home day after day because I’m not well enough to take it outdoors for exercise. Nor did I want to become a neglectful pet owner because pain makes it impossible for me to care for its basic needs.

For just over a week, I’ve been taking care of the dog that belongs to some close friends while they are on vacation. I offered to take care of him because, aside from the fact that he’s adorable, I wanted to give myself the chance to see how well, or not, I’m able to cope with taking care of a dog full-time.

_______________ Giorgi _______________

 

He’s small: a Maltese mix that weighs less than ten pounds, so he’s not able to overpower me with his weight. He’s hypoallergenic, which means he doesn’t shed, so there isn’t any daily dog hair clean up, at all. His exercise requirements are not excessive; therefore, short strolls along my block a few times a day are enough for him to sniff around trees and poles, and make use of the outdoor facilities while getting the exercise he needs. I also had the good fortune of being able to let him run wild around a friend’s property in the country for a few days, which took some of the pressure off me to be physically active more than I am able.

The experience of this past week has given me some valuable information: As much as I’ve wanted a dog, I can’t have a dog.

The toll of getting up early every morning to take him for his first walk of the day alone has been hard to bear. Mornings and the latter part of most evenings tend to be the worst parts of the day for me. Whether that’s because I tend to wake in the mornings after not sleeping well or that the minimal physical activity I engage in throughout each day both increase my pain, I have not fared well this past week. In addition, the responsibility of taking him out for a walk multiple times a day has been hard on my legs and irritated my pelvic pain. I’ve been sore during each walk, and even more so, after we return home. That makes enjoying his company and playing when he wants to play difficult.

As unfortunate as this outcome is, I believe it’s best that I learned all of this while taking care of my friends’ dog for a short period, rather than after making the commitment to get one of my own. I can’t imagine what the effect on a dog would be after being brought home and bonding with a person, then having to be returned to a shelter or a breeder. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for doing that to any animal—or to myself.

I’ll miss my four-legged visitor when he goes home. Although, it has been physically painful for me to take care of him, I’ve enjoyed his company.

 

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Too Much Pain To Sit Or Stand

During the past few months, I’ve been trying to do more, in spite of the pain I live with daily.

Today, however, the pain forced me to do less. I can’t sit without feeling piercing pain through the right side of my pelvis from where a huge cyst was surgically removed almost four years ago, after I’d lived under the shroud of a misdiagnosis for two years. I also can’t stand without that same piercing pain shooting up and down my right leg and through my right hip.

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Falling Away

I’ve had a terrible time in recent weeks: extremely erratic sleep, high pain levels, low mood, swollen legs and feet, and tears. As terrible as it’s been, I’m always conscious, and working at accepting, that when one has to save their energy to cope with intense pain every day, other things in life sometimes need to fall away.

I’ll use a recent situation to illustrate my point: The sink in my bathroom was replaced. What started out as a small leak became a major undertaking when the exact location of the leak couldn’t be isolated. I noticed the leak months ago. It caused a constant slow drip of water into the cabinet under the bathroom sink. I had to remove all the toiletries and other bits and pieces stored in the cabinet because the drip became strong enough to splatter and get things wet. To prevent water damage I also placed a small container on the spot where I saw the drip landing and pooling on the bottom of the cabinet.

Shortly after I placed the first call to the resident maintenance manager, he came to inspect the leak. After his inspection, he assured me that it was a minor issue he could probably resolve within an hour. He returned the next day with all his plumbing gear and a replacement part for something on the sink’s main pipe. Can you tell I know nothing about plumbing from that statement?

As promised, within an hour he stood up from under the sink and declared the leak fixed. Unfortunately, the next day when I opened the cabinet doors and knelt on the floor in front of the empty cabinet ready to replace the shelf paper and refill it with my things I noticed that an area of the shelf was wet. I was not happy about it.

I placed another call to the maintenance manager. He found it unbelievable that his work had not resulted in a permanent fix of the leak. He returned to my home and fiddled under the sink a few minutes longer than he had the first time. This time he said the issue was not a pipe at all. It was the sink itself, which due to age and erosion had sprung a leak on its bottom. This time, to complete the repair, the sink had to go and a new one installed in its place. When this would happen or how long it would take was up in the air. The maintenance manager first had to check his inventory to see if he had a spare sink that would fit then schedule a time to do the work.

As I said before, that was months ago. While I waited, I moved all the things that once filled the cabinet under my bathroom sink to the hallway outside my bathroom. All those things sat in uneven rows I had to walk past many times every day for months: bottles of shampoo and conditioner, jars of hair gel, bottles of lotions, soaps, hair clips, makeup, and more. I passed it all in the hallway every day and tried to pretend it wasn’t there driving the neat freak inside me crazy. I didn’t fuss or make a complaint about the length of time it was taking to fix what started out as a small leak. Instead, I waited patiently for the maintenance manager to buy a new sink and complete the repair.

This story about the repair and eventual replacement of my sink is akin to what my life has become. Since my misdiagnosis nearly five years ago, I’ve had to allow many things to fall away and become less rigid about who I am and what I find acceptable. I no longer fuss or complain about my circumstances, nor do I push my doctors to do something to make me better NOW; as I did with the doctors at the beginning of all of this. Doctors whom I did not trust, with good reason, since I soon learned they misdiagnosed my illness. Much like waiting for the arrival of a new sink, there isn’t much I can do to hurry things – namely the changes in my health that I desire. Even though treatments continue to be unsuccessful, I believe my current doctors are looking for answers and doing everything they can for me.

I now bear the inconvenience of delayed deliveries, the disappointment of canceled plans, and last-minute rescheduled appointments or treatments as if they were displaced bottles of shampoo and lotions because I understand that sometimes $h!t just happens and I have to roll with it. Still, the most significant thing that has fallen away is any unreal expectation(s) that the first attempt with newly prescribed medication(s) or treatment(s) may instantly cure and make all that ails me better because sometimes the fall from the height of unrealistic expectations hurts more than the pain itself.

Besides, the intensity and wide arc of the moods and emotions (anxiety, anger, agitation, sadness, and more…) don’t serve me well either. In fact, they worsen my pain. Therefore, allowing them and so many other things to fall away is necessary to cope better with my illness. Furthermore, I’m finding that the more I relax about things, the less likely I am to have a pain flare up, which is a small comfort when a body always has pain.

Falling Away
Falling Away
Falling Away - Cropped
Falling Away – Cropped