It’s 8:49 pm, Saturday, June 29th, 2013 as I type
this. I’m sitting outside in the backyard, taking the first of steps to
regaining track of writing about all the things I want to write about. I’ve been
feeling overwhelmed by all the myriad of interesting topics that fascinate me,
but because of many different excuses, at the end of the day, procrastination
is paying a heavy price on my well being. There have been many occasions where
I decided I was going to quit writing for this blog, because I feel so
overwhelmed by falling behind. It all just keeps building up, so I need to
catch up now, then limit the exposure I get and focus one by one until each one
is done. Continuing with what happened to my much loved dog, Lucky.
My mom understood. Normally if we told her we were going for
a walk at night, she would poke and prod, wanting to know about the where and
why. The garage door closed and we began walking down the route that we walked
Lucky countless times in the years that we had her. Neither of us said
anything. I took in a deep breath of air and controllably, let it out. Didn’t
know how to start. I thought back to a walk we had freshman year of college,
while walking Lucky. My brother had just found out about Dolores Cannon’s work.
I knew at that moment that her work would come back one day to really console
me, to help me through a tough time. I told my brother, “You know I always knew
Dolores Cannon’s work would play a crucial role in our lives one day.” We
delicately talked about the assessment of the situation, being very careful in
our word choice. “I don’t want to admit it, but if the situation doesn’t
improve, we’re not going to have a choice but to send her back home.” I proceeded
to tell my brother about what I had learned from my regression with Susan,
omitting very personal details. I told him generally what the regression was
like, reasons I believe it from a personal standpoint, what I was doing here on
earth, and why this was happening. This led to us talking about the independent
fields of sciences that are proving what Dolores Cannon has found in her work,
along with many other past life regressionists as well. We talked about our
perspectives of how we should view the physical “death” of the body. We must
have easily talked for more than an hour. We came away from that talk,
bolstered in our spiritual beliefs and as ready as we could have been in
carrying out what soon enough, needed to be done. We certainly did not want to
do it, but knew that it very likely will need to be done. We needed to talk to
our mom and sister about what we were thinking. It wasn’t going to be easy
broaching the topic, and my brother and I both needed to be the anchors in our
beliefs here to be the calm in the storm and lead the family through this
difficult time.
We drove to a parking lot outside a movie theater that I
frequent on and off. We talked inside the car. My brother spearheaded the
conversation. My sister cried, but surprisingly understood what we were saying
and understood our conviction of the other side. Through recanting much of the
similar conversation that I had with my brother, but now with my mom and sister
as well, they understood that if the situation did not improve, we needed to
send Lucky back “home”. Of course the execution of how, when, and where it
would be done was still not unanimous between us. There was no way I was
willing to force Lucky against her will in this state to the veterinary clinic
to euthanize her. Just no way in hell. If it needed to be done, I wanted it to
be done in as peaceful and calm manner as possible. I did not her to know that
something was wrong. So for this reason as well, I did not want any of us to be
crying in front of her. And I have no doubt that if any of the four of us were
there when it would happen, we would lose it in a chain reaction. For this
reasoning, I strongly argued against bringing her to a vet clinic to get the
job done as well as being present when it would happen. This point is possibly,
highly controversial. Thoughts of, “how could you leave your beloved one alone
when they do it?!” “How could you abandon her when it’s your last moments
seeing her?” “Have the courage to be there when the end comes!” All these
thoughts come to mind. Well, I will address that in a future write. My mom
voiced her concern over putting an animal to sleep inside the home. She
preferred, if it had to be done, it be done outside, which I agreed to but at
the same time, knew that if Lucky did not go outside by herself, we may not
have a choice.
Friday morning came, after a sleepless night on the living
room’s couches. In the early morning, probably around 6:30 AM, my brother and I
were awakened to Lucky wining. Lucky was laying on her blue circular mattress/bed.
We decided to do what we did the past night, which gave us a small success. We
had carried her bed, with her on it, next to the lawn in the backyard, and by
sliding a towel underneath her, helped stabilize her somewhat while she could
urinate to the best of her abilities. She got some urine out last night. So we
hoisted her bed next to the lawn again. Typing this after 6 months, my
recollection of this is decently fuzzy. I believe it was to no avail. We
sighed. My brother took out his phone and began snapping pictures. I didn’t
even think of doing that, but now I followed suit. I hate to admit it, but it
was depressing. Taking those pictures. From what I remember, we tried the towel
method again later around 10 or 11 in the morning. This time, we got a small
victory that would buy us some more time. I guess she reached that threshold
where she just had to, had to go! Once I had the towel stabilizing her hind
body weight, to the best of my abilities, and I noticing her beginning to
urinate, I just damn told myself, “Flex that back Michael and keep in straight
just like when you do those heavy deadlifts sets every week! Hold it up there
all the way!” I was relieved to see her urinate. After peeing for a span of
seconds which felt like a whole minute, I was ecstatic to see if she could
walk, and just hoped to God that she could. She took a few steps, then stumbled
to our backyard concrete as safely as she could. I wasn’t sure how I should
have felt. I felt relieved, yet disappointed at the same time. I wished she would
have walked normally again. From the few steps that I saw her take, I hated to
admit it, but her legs looked shaky and unstable. It seemed to be a balance
problem, not a muscle related problem. My brother had told me a suspected
culprit of her sudden gait disturbance Thursday night. Artemisinen, is what
it’s called. It’s one of the new modalities we were going to give her that had
arrived a couple weeks later than when it was supposed to arrive. He read prior
to purchasing it online that in high toxicity overdosage, it can cause
permanent gait disturbances. My brother will soon coin this artemisinen, as “a
method the other side used to send her back home”. But at the time, I hoped the
artemisimen was weaning off and her three-legged gait would go back to its
“normal”.
I have no real recollection of the rest of Friday and next
day, Saturday, to be honest. I don’t know if I had subconsciously repressed it
or for some other reason, but no significant memory comes to mind after that. I
guess it’s because there was no added, volatile increase in stress to the already
overwhelming level of stress I had been feeling in those days since I learned
of her diagnosis and her recent turn for the worse. My memory of Sunday,
December 30th, 2012, though, are clear to me. This date, is just a
date on the calendar, but important to me in my life for what happened and in a
symbolic way as well.
The last time she urinated was Friday morning. She had not
gone in almost two days. In terms of defecation, she was having mild diarrhea
and she would defecate on herself. It was tough and heart-wrenching to see her
deteriorate like that, but at least she was getting it out, I reasoned to
myself, which obviously could not be said for her bladder. Her gait did not
improve as she was still laying there all day. I had looked into getting a dog
wheelchair, thinking that if I could get her to use the wheelchair for her back
legs, she could still get around and go to the bathroom. The last night, she
was wining, and I had also looked up videos to try and manually express her
bladder. I don’t know if I did it right but it didn’t work. Saturday night, we
were doing the same procedure, carrying her on her mattress next to the
backyard lawn, and sliding the towel between her belly near her hind legs so I
could lift and help stabilize to hopefully help her void her the bladder. But
Lucky seemed to dislike the towel in that area when I would try and lift her
hind up. I really wanted her to just put up with the towel so she could go, but
she would begin to growl. Things were just not going our way for potential solutions
I would think of.
No comments:
Post a Comment