Is Begging From Strangers On The Internet Now “In?”

The first time I saw an ad over the internet for a couple asking for money from complete strangers, all over the world, I thought it was a joke. I literally thought it was a spoof but it wasn’t April Fool’s Day so I didn’t understand it. Until I saw another ad asking people for money to pay their expenses to cover their credit card minimum. I’ve seen actual ads for couples asking people to donate for their fertility treatments, for their sick dogs and cats and yes, one for an ailing bird.

Money

My husband was laid off from his job10 months ago. He started looking Day 1 and hasn’t stopped. I am not able to work full-time due to physical limitations (numerous health conditions including Fibromyalgia, Kidney Disease, auto-immune disease, Hashimoto Thyroiditis, Syncope and Hypotension ) but even I am looking for part-time. We are not eligible for unemployment money. It never crossed my mind to put an ad on Facebook or anywhere on the internet to beg for money. Call me old-fashioned. When did this become a socially accepted use of media? Or, a personal standard?

I’m not judging (okay, I’m TRYING not to judge) but this is all so new for old-fashioned me. Is this the younger generation’s idea of problem solving? I sincerely hope not. So, believe me this blog post is NOT about asking for money. I would not do that. But, I am asking for a favor and while I don’t have high hopes I consider this networking because my husband gave me permission to put his résumé on my blog.

He does not want a hand out. We would not accept money to pay our bills. We would rather move (which we are talking about) anywhere he can find a job. Do I want to move? Not really. I have an elderly mother here and my sister, both twenty miles away from me, I’m in the middle. Our children go to SUNY schools.

Half Empty Or Half Full?

Half Empty Or Half Full? (Photo credit: MarkyBon)

I am not asking for pity but a connection would be lovely. The following link is my husband’s resume, please read it and pass it along if you know anybody. Anybody who is somebody is even better!

http://www.proj-mgt.com/dfriedmann.pdf

If you can find it in your heart to take a minute to read his résumé, we would greatly appreciate it. I’m not too proud to network for my family, that’s what families do, we stick together. We are trying to stay positive, truly. Today was rough, maybe tomorrow will be better.

Thank you for reading my blog and for any help you can give us.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Did I Say There Was HOPE For Fibromyalgia? WRONG.

Flower alone

Flower alone (Photo credit: @Doug88888)

9/13/13

Earth to me. Earth to me. Calling all hallucinogenic hopefuls down to reality please. Yes, I know, I was one of them. Me, optimistic, me. Funny, quirky, stupid, friggin  me. What the hell did I know? DId you believe me? I believed me. I really did until I woke up in reality which was just recently. I used to think of the world as a good place but that stopped a long, long time ago, probably with September 11th. That shook me up and the world still keeps shaking me up and not with good things. I know, I’m a late bloomer and gullible as all heck. There will always be two different “Me’s.” Before and after.

I’m jaded, Jaded and faded and disillusioned. Know what my mother’s advice was to me? “Lower your expectations, “I did. No rah-rah speech from her which is not exactly her style to begin with. My dad used to be Mr. Educational Talk when he was alive, think positive, be optimistic, you can do it if you THINK you can do it. He gave “pep” talks to anyone who would listen and yes he believed it and I tried to believe it too, tried to change. But, at the end of his life he was terribly sick and depressed and didn’t want to get out of bed or listen to his favorite Viennese waltzes that had delighted him all of his life. He was a shadow of himself, a shell of a man, it went so quickly and so slowly at the same time. It’s hard to remember when he was last really happy, I have a photo of his birthday, I treasure that photograph. The birthday candles were lit, he was beaming with joy, but it was many years before his death.

I’ve gone to the dark side. Plain and simple. Life is about love and love is about abandonment. Gone. Hello, I am here. I love you. I now will leave you. Good-bye. You are born alone and you die alone. You should pretty much plan to be alone a lot in your lifetime because no one loves you like your mother or father does, or your spouse/partner. You love your kids more than anything, they are your heart and soul, the true essence of your being but it is not reciprocal. It can’t be. Their children will be the lights of their eyes, you need to stand back and make room for the next generation. You may still be in the picture but not upfront, from now on you are in the background and that is where you will stay, forever.

Remember that post I wrote on feeling blessedly numb and peaceful? Yes, that’s gone, it left as fast as it came. Had to do with children and my dead father and abandonment issues.  Just saying the word in my head brings tears to my eyes. Good old abandonment, am I the only nut job that has this umbrella issue? I would bet not. Life is scary sometimes, it’s the truth.

Many limitations from chronic illnesses: Fibromyalgia, Hashimoto Thyroiditis, I can not walk a straight line, my balance is worse than ever, my stamina is non-existent. I need to go into the city for an appointment to see my rheumatologist and I don’t have the strength to get there. Taking the train and a cab seems impossible, hiring a car service is ridiculously expensive and I can’t afford that. So, I keep postponing it which is the worst thing I can do.

I have to suck up my pride and ask my best friend for help, she’s already offered but I am not good at asking for things. I rather help than ask for help. So, today I have to promise myself that I will ask her for a ride to the city, pay for everything and appreciate that I have a friend I can ask albeit begrudgingly. I know I won’t get better, if anything I’m getting worse.

photo credit:@doug88888

written words copyrighted

Should We Take A Moment To Mourn Together?

Mourner. Could be Isis mourning Osiris

Mourner. Could be Isis mourning Osiris (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Dear Invisible Illness Sufferers:

I’m conflicted. I want to say that we have lost a part of ourselves, a physical and emotional part, do you think it is a good idea to get together in real or computer time to say good-bye to the people we once were? Have we done it ourselves? Or do we just accept and let it go? There is the before Fibromyalgia or Diabetes or CFS, Virus, Autoimmune OR fill in the blank disease________ and after. Think about it, it would be an acknowledgment of our former selves, our loss and our lives now. We mourn people we loved; I am not the same person I was before my father died, I view my life “before he died” and “after.” Maybe we should have a ceremony together for the people we became after our loss, as simple as being silent for a minute at a designated time?

I guess this begs the question: do we ever really accept it 100 percent? We make do, we understand but it’s a way of life that we have lost, forever. I don’t believe that it will ever get better in my lifetime or that there will be a cure. That’s just my opinion. A wonderful approach is given in a book by  Toni Bernhard called “How To Be Sick” which is a Buddhist inspired way of living with your illness. It will teach you things, no other book will teach you.

It has taken me years to truly accept Fibromyalgia, chronic pain and an autoimmune disease called Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis, my activities are now severely limited. Part of my energy used to be used defending myself to people who thought I was out of my mind or a pill popping junkie. Sigh. I can reassure you I am neither of those. Realistically, who would WANT to be like us? Does it sound glamorous to have no energy and to be in pain constantly? It’s not like we take magic pills to make us feel great, there are no pills that take away the pain. In fact, we don’t even remember what pain-free feels like. Of course there’s Fibro Fog but that’s a whole other blog post.

After the imaginary designated time where we mourn our former selves, we give our thanks,  grateful for the life we DO have, for the cyber friends that are in the same situation that UNDERSTAND and for the body that still exists and for the many blessings we hold in our hearts.

Tell me what you think, I’d love to hear from you.

Hope, Lost

fibromyalgia awareness

fibromyalgia awareness (Photo credit: veganjoy)

I am feeling funky today. Not funky ha ha, funky bad, I get those days from time to time. Fibromyalgia and chronic pain are to blame. There are days when I have a really good attitude about my chronic pain disease, Fibromyalgia and I say things to myself like “it’s not life-threatening” to keep me sane and balanced and aware, even grateful. Then there are nights like tonight where my face crinkles in uneasy frowns and my smile has disappeared as if I have two very different personalities. This “me” is not happy, and this “me” is angry, pissed off and ready to rumble.

Tonight is a night when many of my Fibromyalgia on-line friends/sisters in solidarity, are on-line, I read their blogs, they read mine.  There seems to be a lull in energy for all of us, a low in satisfaction, an overall feeling of just wanting to give up and an off the wall chart on pain levels. We have had enough, all of us. Yes, we know we have the illness, yes we will never get rid of it, yes it hurts and clouds our minds so much that our children look at us as if we have dementia. It’s called Fibro Fog.

I’ve never been overly concerned with my age, 55, but I am disappointed and disgusted in my physical limitations. Between low blood pressure, Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis and Fibromyalgia, I don’t have a lot of energy. Other times, I have balance issues, always I have pain. At some point in the day or night, pain wakes me up in the cramping of my arms, in the battlefield of my legs. My husband passes by me and by accident his soft, cotton shirt touches one of my tender points and I scream out in pain. He didn’t do anything wrong but just the touch of the fabric was excruciatingly painful. It’s not fair and yes, I am whining tonight.

I’m tired and cranky and cranky some more. Oh, p.s. IT’S NOT IN OUR HEADS!

My jaw hurts from TMJ, my stomach hurts from IBS, my hair falls out and I can’t get a good night’s sleep which is imperative to my health. I can’t win, we can’t win. I feel  impatient and eventually I will settle down but now I just want to be angry at how my body has failed me. You know it’s true.

No, I don’t want platitudes, I just want to vent and say that I know it could be much worse but for now, it isn’t exactly like a walk in the park. I have a puppy, she needs to be walked, she needs to run but I can’t run with her. I take her on short walks when I can and sometimes I just throw her a toy, from my lying down position on the couch. It isn’t much but it is something. Still, I feel like a bad puppy mommy.

I had to have a brain/spine MRI because my imbalance was so severe that I fell flat on my face and knees outside with nothing to trip me. I’m seeing my Rheumatologist but I KNOW he doesn’t have the answer. He believes me, he cares, he tries but I know he can only do so much. Part of me wants to throw away the medicine I am taking (Savella) and see how bad it is without it. On the other hand, I’m scared to do that, I’m a little better than I was originally. Just not good enough.

Fibromyalgia Update: It Just Gets Worse?

Magnetic Resonance Imaging - Human brain side view

Magnetic Resonance Imaging – Human brain side view (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

July 30, 2012

My Fibromyalgia update is not full of rainbows and unicorns and fairy dust, it’s plunking along through a slow and painful process, apparently it goes on forever. Now, in addition to Fibromyalgia and the auto-immune disease, Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis I’ve had to deal with Nuerological issues as well. Imbalance? Ah yes, you know it well.  Now I have another doctor to include to my semi-annual repertoire  and I have a feeling it isn’t ending here. Just a feeling though…..

I’ve already had a brain and cervical spine MRI, the results were fine. My new Nuerologist (yeah, now I have one of those too) sent me a note saying that everything was normal given my age. “MY AGE” as if I don’t feel old enough. I do remember in the exam he exclaimed” So, what you are telling me is that you were basically a healthy woman until you hit the age of 50.” That grounded me, but it is so true. I know we weren’t supposed to trust anyone over 30 when we were young but no one said anything about falling apart when turning 50. You would think that would be written somewhere, or at least a warning sent when you are 45, (“ENJOY YOUR NEXT FIVE YEARS!!!!) not that we would have believed anything so preposterous.

Whoever says 50 is the new 40 does NOT have Fibromyalglia, I can pretty much bet on that. Tell a person who has Fibromyalgia that 50 is the new 40 and you are most likely to get a response like “my ass it is.” I couldn’t agree more.  I am so frustrated with different doctors and medications, I’m tempted (merely tempted) to talk to my Rheumatologist and see what he says about stopping Savella. I know, I’m ALL talk, Savella helps me, at least a little. However, my Rheumatologist put me on something called Topomax which he said would help me and I took it for many months.  I took it until my balance was so off kilter (even more than usual) and my forgetfulness was at an all time high AND I was getting tingling in my feet and hands; that scared me. One look at my medical history and the Nuerologist immediately said: Topomax: First two side effects are tingling and imbalance. Seriously, Did my Rheumatologist not know that? You would think that my Internist would be involved in some way but if it isn’t strep throat or a sinus infection, “it’s not her job.”

Once in awhile I have taken to using a cane, especially when walking our really strong 5 month old puppy, but with an 18 year old daughter, who embarrasses easily, I think I will use it more in three weeks when she goes to college. Wednesday, I am going back to the Nuerologist for results of my tests, I will see what he has to say. I’m bringing my husband along with me to listen; I am a horrible “listener” at a doctor’s appointment. I think it’s called the “white coat syndrome” whatever the doctor says, I seem to only remember the one or two bad words. My husband is much better at things like that than I am.

Next week I will go to the Rheumatologist and try to straighten things out. I would ask one doctor to talk to the other but in the past few years I have noticed they really don’t like to do that. I know, “LIKE?” I will insist, because the only one who can manage my healthcare, let’s face it, is me.

I’ll keep you posted.

My Fibromyalgia Vacation

Rhode Island Retreat 2983

Rhode Island Retreat 2983 (Photo credit: WebAdvantage.net)

I bet for a second you actually thought I got a vacation from Fibromyalgia and ALL my aches and pains. Oh, silly you, you know THAT’S not possible, that’s not even a thought that enters my sane mind anymore. Actually, it doesn’t even enter my insane mind. I’m stuck with this horrid disease, as I know so many of you are, and we are going nowhere, well, not fast. Fast is a past tense word. I don’t do anything quickly anymore, with the exception of napping and eating.

My husband and I went away for a couple of days, it was a short car ride that we broke down in two days. Yes, we stopped overnight so I wouldn’t have to sit in the car for four hours which, I thought, was extremely sweet and generous of my husband. After all, money is tight and in August we are sending two kids to college (state schools, thank goodness, but two in college at the same time.)

We arrived at our lovely Bed and Breakfast and it was the first time I noticed someone actively noticing me. The Inn Keeper was watching me, she stared at me, not unkindly, but with acknowledgment. I only had one computer bag in my hand and she said “let me take that for you, it’s easier for me.” This was not a woman who was much younger than me but when I saw her sprint up and down the stairs like a youthful kangaroo I realized how old and how sick I must look and seem. It was devastating to me and quite alarming.

I am used to my small circle of friends and family who are with me all the time and know about the chronic pain and illness. The stiffness in my bones, muscles, the nerve pain, the imbalance, the awkwardness of going up stairs (and these were deep and wide stairs.) My husband’s arm was always at the ready and I’m sure she noticed that too but I felt so conspicuous. I felt like I had a sign on my back that read: DAMAGED GOODS. Apparently, I did.

I have other tests coming up soon and if those are okay I know I will be thankful for just having Fibromyalgia and Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis (an auto-immune disease of the thyroid.)  I am not complaining about how I feel physically as much as the shock I felt when the inn-keeper looked at me, with equal parts of pity, kindness and sorrow. She was NOT trying to make me feel bad in any way, but bad is how I felt, I’m so used to feeling physically bad that I don’t know what physically good feels like anymore. Physically painful is my new normal. I felt emotional pain from a stranger for the very first time and that hurt.

Carry On Tuesday: After All, Tomorrow Is Another Day

Sun Rays Through The Clouds

Sun Rays Through The Clouds (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What happens when you have those kind of days when everything seems wrong, unfair and it is just plain relentless? It’s like a nightmare when someone is tugging on your arm and you feel the pain but they don’t let up, your arm falls off instead and you scream in raw pain. When people you thought you loved keep taunting you and making you fall deeper into a hole that buries you? When you are completely misunderstood? It gets to the point that the thought of suicide feels like a vacation.

I’m not counting pills or getting out the razor blades nor am I planning to jump from the top of a big skyscraper but suicide fantasies are real; they are a means for escaping pain, too much pain. Last night I indulged in one of them. My life, lately, has been a mess. Too many changes, too much stress, too much anger and it all got to me. Dysfunctional family members ganging up on me, needlessly, almost for sport, not taking the time to think about how that would feel to them. Other members of the family leaving me out, my physical limitations making it hard for me to walk as fast, they march on ahead, leaving me to walk in back of them, physically hurting and psychologically silencing me from their conversation.They are oblivious to my emotional and physical pain, what an incredible disappointment to me and exceedingly hurtful, physically and mentally. My Fibromyalgia and Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis are not new illnesses, I’ve had them for over five and a half years now, this should not come as a surprise. My husband’s comment to me when I brought it up to him was “I forgot, I didn’t notice.” I can’t forget and neither can all of my friends who have these crippling illnesses.

I call my old best friend and she understands, she knows without hearing more than a barely audible whisper of her name that something is terribly wrong. I know what she is thinking but it is not a death or an illness though it feels like that to me; I feel like I am dying slowly inside, emotionally. My friend and I don’t see each other often at all but we are there for each other when we need one another. I can count on her for anything, she can do the same. It’s nice to know, in this complicated world, there is someone from the past who knows you and your history so well that they understand without explaining. “She is my person” as they say in “Grey’s Anatomy;” she is my Christina to my Meredith. I will also NEVER let a “professional” doctor treat me in such an unprofessional way where it hurts me, never. This caused a lot of psychological damage as well. My initial judgments are sound.

Maybe sometime soon I will want to see the sun streaming in through the windows and will take solace in the few flowers that remain, the fading yellow tulips that my daughter gave me for Mother’s Day, the bottle of sugar- free black cherry seltzer water from CVS which reminds me vaguely of almonds. I won’t mind the bite marks on my hands and feet because I will appreciate the dog that I saved when I adopted her from the animal shelter, all curled up in the fetal position, peacefully sleeping, probably drugged. She’s a wild thing now, all energy, safe, happy, loved and a bit out of control.

Tomorrow is Sunday and I hope I will have the energy to get out of bed to take a shower and get dressed, if not happy to be alive than at least grateful. Maybe there will be a small slice of sunlight crossing my body and that will make me happy. My stomach, still clenched in knots, is ever so slowly beginning to relax. The doubts I had about myself, my judgment about people, my strongest quality will come back without question because after all, tomorrow is another, brand new day and I welcome it.

I close my eyes in peace, welcoming sleep and serenity, looking forward to possibilities and not thinking of death or gloom or tragedy. I need to sync my soul back into my body to align myself with the brightness and good, sanity and happiness. I will go downstairs now and play with my puppy that I have avoided for two days; I will give her a treat, I will stroke her silky fur and even if she tries to bite me, I will hand her a bone instead and grin.

p.s. A special THANK YOU to Keith from Carry On Tuesday for just Keeping On….I so appreciate it!

Life, Not Made Easy

An elderly couple comfort each other- Part of ...

An elderly couple comfort each other- Part of Paul Ganuchaud’s relief depicting life behind the front-line being one of two reliefs which form the Fort Mahon Plage monument aux morts. Fort Mahon Plage is in the Somme region of France. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’m 55 years old and still battling the stomach bug I got yesterday. With me, you never know if I caught this from my daughter or if it’s one of Fibromyalgia’s side effects rearing its ugly horse head again. All I know is that what I wanted was to be ten again and for my mom to make me two soft-boiled eggs in a dish, with crumbled up pieces of toast and a pat of butter all mixed together. That’s what I wanted and I didn’t want to make it myself.

I am lucky enough that my mom is still alive and so I called her and told her how I was feeling. “I wish for that too” she said somberly, the effects of getting older weighing heavily on her these past few days. She worries about me and I worry about her, not that it makes any difference at all but it feels good to know someone cares. Life, since my father died has been very difficult for her, for all of us, but on certain days she is inconsolable. Her friends are dying or very sick and getting old “is no pleasure.”

When my husband left today to go back to Rochester for work I felt sad and I couldn’t prevent a tear or two from trickling down my face. It’s hard when he goes but it feels impossible when he goes and I’m really sick. I can handle most everything on my own, Fibromyalgia and Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis, but when I get a stomach flu on top of that? I fall apart. I feel vulnerable and scared and alone. This is the worst of Fibromyalgia for me, not the pain or the aches, I can deal with those because I am used to them. It’s when something unexpected comes up that is out of the norm, that’s when I crash and feel vulnerable and all I want to do is stay in my bed and cry.

Since we got the new puppy, it’s like having a toddler again, a biting, misbehaving toddler. I know she is young and will grow out of it but again, when I am not feeling well everything seems like so much of an effort. I’m sure friends would help if I asked them but I usually try to “save” my favors for important things. I’ve decided I’ll be better tomorrow, I have no other choice.

I’ve tried to accept life’s curve balls and I always needed 24 hours to get used to a new, bad, situation. I don’t think I have that luxury anymore. Bad things happen to most of us, except for a lucky few, and it seems like they are happening all the time. Was it always like this? I truly don’t believe so but maybe we were so young and naïve and having fun, we just didn’t notice.

The Healing Powers Of A Puppy

When our dog, Callie died, I thought I would never feel happiness again. She was my first dog, the most gentle, shy, docile animal on the planet. She was scared of everything and only wanted reassurance and comfort; she loved my lap and my bed. She was frightened of external stimulation, loud noises, new people, she just felt safe with her family. We, of course, got her from an animal shelter and adopted her at six weeks; she had already been adopted at four weeks by another man. She was sweet and loving, and could read my feelings better than anyone else. Callie saw me through my father’s death, the most painful experience of my life. When I cried, she licked my tears and wouldn’t leave my side.

The risk you take of getting a shelter dog is that their past is somewhat of a mystery and you need to accept that. The dogs or puppies do come with some baggage, but really, don’t we all? I’m definitely a rescue dog person, I can’t, personally, see the need to go to a pet store to buy a pedigree but it’s just my personal preference.

Callie was an amazing first dog, she was not a problem for one second except that she was  afraid to socialize with other dogs, wary of new people and was anxious. Our backyard was fine for her, walks were okay but she needed to stay close to home and she hated the car. I always dreamed of taking her to the beach or a lake so she could swim but she got near water and ran away, terrified.

When, from one day to another, she wouldn’t look me in the eye and yelped quietly twice, I brought her to the vet, he told us that there was a mass on her spleen and he needed to operate. Once he operated he saw that 75 percent of her body was filled with cancer. We were in shock; there were no signs. She didn’t even trouble us in her pain, her last, dying days. We did not want her to suffer,  the vet suggested we end her life while she was in surgery and we agreed. With the lovely technician, Stephanie, covering her face with kisses, Callie left our world, without suffering any pain. Pain was for the human beings she left behind, extreme pain.

I didn’t think I could get over it. I cried, all day and night, she was my girl. We understood each other and for at least a solid month I was depressed and nothing could get me out of it, except time. I found I also needed to be near other dogs so I visited other animal shelters. I wasn’t ready to adopt but being around dogs helped me heal. I went to shelters about twice a week, looking at the older dogs, smiling at the puppies, asking about volunteering. Each time I thought I was honoring Callie, little did I know I was helping to heal myself.

My husband and I went to a couple of shelters together, he was definitely not ready to adopt but he was open to looking. We looked together but there wasn’t a dog that “felt” right and that was fine. A couple of weeks later, I went with my friend, Sarah, and what I was looking for was sleeping right in front of me, curled up like a little cinnamon cupcake. I loved her immediately, or rather fell in love with her. I did walk around the shelter (not really seriously) but I came back to “my” dog and asked to hold her. It went quickly from there, adoption procedures were started, I welcomed her to our family.

Yes, I thought about my chronic illnesses, Fibromyalgia and Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis and my age, 55 with a new puppy. It really is like being a mother to a newborn. Did I doubt myself? A couple of times. Did I regret it? Not for a second. Is it challenging? As Sarah Palin used to say “You Betcha.” I wouldn’t change it for the world.

Lexi is NOT Callie’s replacement, there is love in my heart for many people and now I know, many dogs. She is nothing like my first dog, my first love. She is a rambunctious, rebel-rouser, biting, jumping, super-active pup. She has found the stairs and climbed up them in three days; we had to train Callie to go up them because she was so scared. Lexi is fearless, too fearless sometimes and we need to work to reign her in. As you can imagine, my nickname for her is “Marley to the Max” based on the wonderful book “Marley and Me.”

How can you heal a broken heart? Many different ways, of course. For me, I welcomed a homeless puppy into our home. One crazy, willful, gorgeous, “*mutt-a-gree” dog with big brown, rebellious eyes and short, warm, silky fur. Do I still have my chronic aches and pains? Yes. Do I feel them more? Sometimes, but I can’t concentrate on them, I don’t have the time. Am I happy? Absolutely. Did I do the right thing? For me and my family, for our new puppy? Without a doubt, yes. There is no doubt about it, we saved each other. each other.

*ASPCA

**Lexi, 10 weeks

DEDICATED TO STEPHANIE

Untitled

Dog on the weir

Dog on the weir (Photo credit: Steve-h)

Everything I try to write seems awkward. Nothing flows like water winding down from a river or a stream. I am thinking in short, staccato, choppy sentences even though I am feeling more in harmony. Maybe different parts of me have to catch up with each other, I don’t know. I feel that I don’t have anything to write about but I’m sure I do. Or do I?

The grief that I have gone through the last three weeks over my dog dying has been intense but it is better now. People grieve in different ways; I need to cry and let it come out and I need to look at my dog’s picture and have a conversation with her ( it’s easier than saying she had a conversation with me because most people think I’m a nut case) but we did talk. I am cherishing the ten amazing, pain-free years we had together which were nothing short of a miracle, all hugs and kisses, warmth and happiness. We both had a very good life. Change, especially shock, is NOT something I am good with but we all learn to adapt, we have no choice.

Of course I still look for her to give her the remnants of my hamburger and yes, I do wait for her at the blue front door but she is not there. I keep wanting to say “Up, Up” for her to come on my bed and lie next to me, her most favorite place, but ten years is a long time to automatically forget things like that. I don’t feel the stabbing pain anymore which is good. I will love her always but I know I can love another dog too, I also know she would want me too.

I look through the pages of the ASPCA, I drove to the shelter I brought Callie home from to pay my respects; my husband is adamant he is not ready for another dog. I do not live in a vacuum, I must respect my other family members on the other hand, they need to respect me too. I’m in a bit of a quandary. I don’t want to adopt a dog this second but I have to admit looking at adoptable dogs is making me happy, the thought of adopting a homeless dog is giving me a reason to smile.

However, ten years ago, I did not have Fibromyalgia and Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis; I was also ten years younger and I really need to think about that, seriously. Will I be too weak, as I am some days, to take this as yet unnamed dog for a walk? Will my joints hurt so much that all I want to do is lie on the bed and sleep? I don’t have an honest answer for that. Callie was a dog that was gentle and she was a homebody, she didn’t particularly like being away from home so a small walk was fine, being in the backyard was even better. I know if I had an energetic dog that had to run for miles I would be unhappy and so would he/she. That would not be a good match and not fair to either of us. Of course I would try to be matched up with a gentle dog but that possibility of chance is always there.

I’m a little scared.

I also really miss having a dog in my life.

Any thoughts, comments or advice appreciated.