Roller Coaster of Emotions
Last week I was feeling down. Although AIM had come out the weekend before St. Patrick's Day to help me put my table together and I figured that meant I wouldn't see him the following weekend, I was still disappointed when he didn't extend an invitation to me. Why do I do this to myself? I know that I should just move on but I feel something for this man that keeps me from doing so.
Every once in a while, I try my hand at poetry. I only try every once in a while because, quite frankly, I'm no good at it. My latest attempt, on St. Patrick's Day is: Tonight, as Irish eyes are a'smilin, Polish eyes are a'cryin.Not that you need it spelled out but AIM is the Irish eyes and I am the Polish. Anyway, that was as much as I managed to get.
I couldn't muster up anything else for my poem of sorrow as I felt myself move from beneath that dark cloud. I visited my father in the hospital on Friday night and then spent all day Saturday with him. My dog, my faithful companion, has been beside me just about every second that I've been home. She was doing well too. Her surgery (on Tuesday, I'm not sure if I wrote about it) was a success. The growth was removed and I, at least, was hoping it had been the cause of her seizures and that now that it was gone, so too would be the seizures.
Unfortunately, that was not the case.
As it happens, I had stayed up a little later than usual last night to finish the book I was reading, Marley & Me by John Grogan. One of my cousins lent it to me when I was in Florida. It's the story of a man and his dog. I found myself laughing out loud, uncontrollably, at some points and, at the end, crying with an equal amount of emotion. When I finished the last chapeter I blew my nose and pet my AJ. I wished her a good night and told her I loved her. About an hour and a half later I awoke to the sound of a really loud thump that came from the kitchen. I was out of bed in a heartbeat and by her side for the entirety of the seizure. I sit behind her when she has them and pet her and kiss her and tell her that I love her and remind her that she's not alone. For this particular seizure it's a damn good thing I did that because I swear, she almost swallowed her tongue. After about a minute the seizure stopped but it took her a good 4-5 minutes to "come back" from it. She was able to get herself up and empty her water dish and then we took a few short walks in the backyard. I got her back into my room and she laid down but couldn't seem to settle. It was as if she couldn't lay on her side or put her head down. My mother had asked about taking her to animal emergency but I said no. They would only drug her, keep her for the rest of the night, tell us to take her to her own vet in the morning and then charge an arm and a leg. I thought she'd be fine. But back to the tale at hand. She couldn't seem to get comfortable, therefore there was no sleep... for either of us. I tried. I pet her for a few minutes then got into bed and turned out the light. A few seconds later I heard the whining start. Not an excessive amount. Not constant. She's no dummy. It was just enough to get me to turn the light back on, get back out of bed and join her on the floor where she got tons of kisses and pets for the next two hours.
I took her out again at this point and she emptied herself out, in both ways. We went back to bed and miraculously, she settled right away and seemed to pass out. It was like she was saying, "Damn, I am tired. Let's get some sleep". I was happy to do so. Unfortunately, at 5:45, I awoke to her having another seizure. My poor baby. It's now 6:35. I've gotten about 3 hours of sleep and have a long day ahead of me as I plan to leave straight from work to visit my dad in the hospital. The vet doesn't open for another two hours and my baby is looking uncomfortable again, though she is right here at my side.
How foolish and incredibly lucky am I to be among those people that let's such a magnificent creature into their lives. You know the outcome. You know that most of the time, barring unforeseen circumstances, you will outlive the dog. But I am so happy to have her in my life. I can't imagine what the last 12 years would have been like without her. My baby.