Current Events Part II

On my last entry I mentioned that I would keep this updated as to my progress (or lack thereof) of quiting smoking;

Well, today would count as day two, so far I have recovered from yesterdays horrible withdrawal symptoms. I ended up smoking a total of seven cigarettes yesterday. Today, I have smoked six thus far. I did end up giving up with the patches as they were causing too much burning and the rash seemed to get worse. The inhalers only work for a short spell.
The pain pills I take make me crave smoking more. I imagine that this would be similar to drinking in a bar, everything makes the urges stronger, especially the more you drink.

As of this moment I have given in and made an appointment with my doctor for monday to pick up some pills that have helped me in the past. I do not qualify for the newest pill, the Chantix, I am told that they would cause a bad reaction to the pain pills that I take.

I am trying to find strength and courage to deal with this battle.
More tomorrow -

Current Events

As of the last few years I have been dealing with some issues, one of those issues is my lower back pain. I have now come to the point where I am able to get fusion surgery.

In order to qualify for surgery, I need to quit smoking.

So for the past few weeks I have been trying to quit. I tried cold turkey approach, failed. Picked up a prescription for the nicotrol inhalers. At first these were working, then failed. So I have decided that I would try cutting back and smoking light cigarettes. This seemed to work for awhile, until my body craved more and more, so I smoked more and more. Feeling pretty upset about my inability to quit smoking I decided to pick up the patch.

So, I got up today and thought that I was doing pretty good, I hadn't had a smoke since one thirty am. I even changed my morning routine as all the 'experts' suggest. I was fine until around twelve thirty when the cravings and withdrawal became pretty intense. The sweating, racing heart, nausea, anxious feeling became so bad that even distractions wouldn't help. I finally gave in and used an nicotine inhaler. If you have never used one, let me be the first to say they are pretty bad, kinda burn your throat and tongue. But, they cut the symptoms down to half. After about another half hour I tried the patch only to notice that a big rash formed under and around the site of where I put the patch. Now I thought, I am screwed. So I moved the patch and so far the rash has stayed minimal.

I wouldn't even think of putting myself through this hell if I weren't planning on having major surgery in three weeks.
I refuse to lie in the hospital for a week going through both the pain and recovery of surgery and going through nicotine withdrawals.

I will be keeping this updated as I continue my journey through the process of becoming smoke free.

Today, Day one. So far it sucks.

Wanna go for a walk?

Picture in your mind with me for just a moment, if you would be so kind.

It is around May of 2000, Having lived in our first house for only a few months, something Dave wanted almost more than anything; a dog. Yes, he said to me one fine day very shortly after moving in, what we need to complete our little family was a dog.

So, off to the shelters we toured, several weekends contemplating about this one or could this happy, hyper one be the dog that we (He) so wanted. Finally, after alot of time and searching for the ideal dog we came across this little girl cowering in the back of the pen in a shelter that we almost didn't stop at due to time constraints. If memory serves, I said "what about this one?" as I was really getting tired of looking, tired of the constant heming and hawing, to be perfectly frank, I wasn't really a hundred percent into this whole idea of getting a dog. Dave replied; " I didn't even notice that there was a dog in there....." thus began what I would like to think God's plan. This little girl had been in the shelter for a while, having been dumped by her previous owners because she was too 'hyper'. At first, she was the most timid, shy, quiet pup, barely looking anyone in the eye, slinking as if we would hurt her.

We were hooked!

This quiet, passive behavior lasted a very short period once we got her home, after a period of testing the waters so to speak, she fully came into her own. She Thrived! Yes, she was very hyper, as are most puppies. She needed some house breaking, and loads of boundaries.

As a matter of fact, she is the only dog that I have ever known to have failed puppy training classes. She just didn't care to learn anything that we wanted, rather, only to appease us she managed a few things, though what ever her heart desired, we pretty much let her do. We definitely paid the price. The cell phones, remotes, anything that wasn't her toys became fodder for her to destroy. As frustrating as some of this was, we loved just about every moment of it. This was my first dog.

Ever since I was a child, thanks in part to my mother, I was borderline terrified of most dogs, this only was reinforced when I was bitten several times. Ellie was there to help show me that not all dogs her size were going to accost me. She became my hero.

When Ellie became part of our family, she entered as a shy, quiet little girl. Upon her exit one would say that she left almost the same.

This was an incredibly difficult thing to deal with, old wounds that were thought to at least have scabbed over were ripped off in a flash. Memories flooding back, the aching in my heart for the life that was leaving for her reward. I prayed fervently for her not too suffer, yet prayed fervently for more time. I wanted her to be around for at least another month, selfishly I wanted to get beyond the one year anniversary of the last two deaths. Though this was not to be.

One night Ellie became very sick, not too unusual considering that she has been progressively getting worse since January when we discovered how sick she really was. In the last month of her life, she aged had about ten years, right before our eyes she went from a very happy, energetic, content disposition to one of wanting to sleep, not wanting the very things that she made sure that we knew would please her. This night, two weeks ago, a Wednesday night, she became very sick, throwing up more than usual, the heart wrenching spasms, the look in her eyes. This night as per usual, she slept with Davey, needless to say that neither managed to get much sleep.

I woke up rather early, not my usual, Dave greeted me and in a very strained, shocked voice told me that it was time to let her go.

The appointment made, now only to sit and wait. I HATE WAITING, hate knowing what was to come, hate not having the ability to tell her what was happening, what was going to happen.

During this long wait, I think that Ellie knew what was going to happen, she licked me in the face a few times, something that she rarely, if ever, did. I lost it.

Finally the time had arrived, off we trudged, the prospect of a car ride was immensely pleasing to her.

She went very quietly, in the space of a couple of heartbeats she was gone. Almost nine years old, I felt like I had failed her in so many ways. I am generally the one who tries to fix things when they go wrong, I couldn't fix this, it had gone horribly wrong. Our hearts were broken, almost inconsolable we were seeing her in her final moments. Thankfully, we have a wonderful doctor whom was there for us in this moment of great need. Though the time was to let her go, we had to leave with out her, this was our little girl, the daughter we wanted, couldn't imagine our lives without. The little girl that has been through so much of which any one of those things could have been her undoing. The Lyme disease, the time she ran away and was hit by a car, and on and on. How do we tell those that loved her so? How do I pick up the pieces and make something good come out of this? How do I comfort Dave who seems to be hit hard by this?
Of those I had no easy answers, everyone knew Ellie, everyone who met her fell for her charm.

Time goes on, as it almost always will, we somehow managed to pick up the some of the pieces. The pain is easing, though not the guilt. We have closure, we brought her ashes home.

I find we hug our remaining dog a little more, a little harder. Spoiling him a bit more. Our other dog has been through this as well, though, I am sure that he doesn't understand. He knew that his sister was getting sick, he saw us take her away and return without her. I believe that he still waits for her to come through the door. In short, he misses her. How does one deal with this?

As for my wounds, these are something that one cannot put a salve on, for the betterment of those around me, I shove all of these emotions deep down. As this has become natural for me to do. Dave and I have become a bit closer, we have decided to wait for a while before we begin to talk about another dog.

We will work hard to keep her memory alive, after all, everywhere we look we see signs of her.

A Winters Day

On a day when the weather outside should be brittle, with the wind blowing, finding every open crevice in your clothes to chill you to the bone. Cold enough to steal the heat right off of your face, make your nose run, fingers go numb. Instead we find the weather tempered, down right warm. With the harsh wind blowing warm air around, tousling your hair, making the dogs' noses twitch with anticipation of something in the air to make them drool. A strong wind to make the bare tree branches rattle like cold, old bones telling their story of the life that they once lived. The sun warming the very ground that you walk on, making the grass try to turn green, the trees bud.

Yet through all of this amazing weather there you stand with deep wounds that refuse to heal over. The call came in with more bad news; we will loose the battle with yet another four legged companion. A companion that has shared your world for the last seven and half years, shared your bed, shared all the highs and lows of those bygone years. Though to look at her one would assume that she hadn't a clue. You see, that is part of her charm. You once again make the comment; "If she were human she would be one of those typical blonde jokes." Alas, her time to care for me, to smile and bounce around whilst at play, to push her cold, leaky nose into your hand, even repeatedly force herself upon you during times of sadness. Her ability to 'sense' your moods. Even the ability to enjoy life from a dream seems all but gone. Now it's our turn to force ourselves upon her, to carry her to the communal bed with her brother and dad, to wipe her leaky nose, leaky mouth. Rub her swollen, achy knees and feet. Our turn to gently force her medicine into her mouth.
Once more, this time has come for you to watch the fall of a companion, one that proved the wisest choice of all at the shelter those years ago. Patiently, anxious, fearful of every cough, groan, snore. Watching as she turns down the food that has comforted her in recent months, feeling helpless, torn. Torn between letting her eat what she wants, not her medical diet. Torn between the need to take over and force her to get better, versus letting her go easily.

Once again I am reminded of the valuable lesson learned earlier this past year; pay attention to whats in front of you, not whats to come.

Good words to say, much more difficult once you have to live them.

So, even though the weather outside is rather warm for the season, no cold, bitter wind to rattle your bones, rather a warm, gentle wind caressing your face, making the bare tree branches clatter together like old bones telling the stories of yesteryear, You are waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop.

You go through all of this whist in the midst of your own troubles, the doctor visits for yourself, the tests. The waiting to see what the proper course of treatment will be. Though, you look, think: I would like to do nothing else but take care of her every moment of every day, though, you know that this would be impractical at best. After all, you are human, she is a dog. Not a child. For you, those words are hollow, empty of the feeling that you seem to crave at this moment. For you, the line between child and pet have blurred to the point where it is virtually indistinguishable. You have long been in the habit of treating those pets as if they were your own children. For you, there is no other way.

If it were not tragic, one might laugh at those emotions that you have, for there are people out there in worse positions, more pain. There are those that you pray for each day that are faced with losing a beloved child from something that cannot easily be put into few words. On a day like this might prove to be a wonderful story to whisper to those beloved children. How the sun shone, the warmth of the day made other children run, jump, skip and play. How you saw dogs frolicking, the laughter of children. Perhaps given them inspiration to get better, comfort them towards the end.

You are angry, saddened, fearful. Angry that this has to happen to such a wonderful creature that seems to be placed in your care by God himself. Saddened you must give this creature back, and fearful that you might have done something to perpetuate this condition, not done enough, or must make that final decision.

So together you and your spouse comfort one another, take out some of those emotions on each other. Share the blessing that might very well turn out to the last months, weeks.

Together you walk in the warm sunshine, feel the wind, listen to the stories of the bone trees.
Cling to one another, find comfort in each other. Share stories of yesteryear. Smile.