Things are really getting me down right now, and I am frustrated. For one thing, my dog, Timmy. Ordinarily, when I wake-up and take off my CPAP mask, he comes out from under the covers, sits on my chest waiting for his ears to be scratched, and then flops down for a belly rub. During this routine he never barks or makes any other sound. But what has he just done?
He got hold of a plastic bottle of fingernail glue, went under my comforter and chewed the bottom completely off. I found the comforter glued around the bottle and to the bottom sheet! Apparently Timmy didn’t ingest any glue or, if he did, he hasn’t suffered any consequences.
He chews and eats anything! Mail, magazines, silk plants, plastic bags, my fingers, his own nails. (And I have two cats that can shred a full roll of toilet paper in less than 30 minutes!)
And Timmy has been pooping everywhere but on the pee pads that I laid out to completely cover the second bedroom carpet. If he isn’t in my lap, he whines and carries on like a child. I have to say it: he can be a rotten dog!
That’s Timmy. Me, I am not okay either. My esophagus is slowly closing and it is becoming increasingly harder to force food down and keep it down. This same thing happened five years ago, and surgery was performed to enlarge my esophagus to a normal opening. The doctor said this kind of thing is usually caused by scarring from acid reflux, but he saw no scar tissue.
I do not plan to go back to the doctor. I just can’t have any more surgical procedures, ever. My kidneys are functioning at approximately 60% of what they should be, on a good day.
And something new, involving aging, has reared its ugly head. Early last year, two ridges suddenly appeared on my ring finger, in front of the knuckle. They were grotesque, so large I couldn’t remove my ring for cleaning. The ridges lasted for around four months and had gone away before my regular physical medical exam, so I forgot to mention them.
Three weeks ago the underside of my thumb felt as though needles were sticking into it, and I watched as the knuckle started to swell up. I went to the doctor about this and showed him a photo I had taken of the ridges on my ring finger. Oh joy! Bursitis!
I have always been vain about my hands and feet. I even did some hand and foot modeling. Now my hands are constantly in pain. I can’t close my left hand completely or hold anything with it. Its little finger is curved and sticks up.
It’s as though my body parts are being recalled. It’s more than annoying when your body doesn’t work as it used to and things hurt. I try my best not to give into depression but some days are difficult.
As I mentioned in “My winter doldrums,” I was diagnosed with PTSD in 1990, with short-term memory loss, vision problems, and panic attacks. I hadn’t had any flashbacks or panic attacks in over ten years...until early yesterday morning. I was on the bed when I heard a key in the door and keys jingling on a key ring. Someone was coming to get me!
My “rotten” little dog jumped on my chest and barked, snapping me out of the flashback. I quickly recognized I was having a panic attack, so I just lay there holding Timmy for support. Was it a premonition?
I am frightened because this hadn’t happened in so many years. Why now?
The sun is finally out and I’m going to take my little rescuer out for a walk. Pets give us a reason to get up and get moving. They are a calming influence on humans, ready to love us regardless of who we are, what we look like, or where we live.
| Copyright © 2018 by Sharon Stoner |
Sharon, did you know, when you were writing this, that you were writing a beautiful ode to aging and mortality? I’m glad it turned out also to be an “owed” to Timmy, to loving pets in general. We are very lucky in our Timmy’s and Wally’s and Cee-Cees and Siegfrieds,
ReplyDeleteDel wants to go back to Costa Rica and is cursing me for bringing her to this frozen wasteland. I check my shoes before I put them on in case she has taken a dump in one of them. The old saying:"Getting old is not for the weak". That is very true, the only things that work the way they used to, is all in your mind. Hang in there Sharon, this road is short enough as it is.
ReplyDeleteEd, as I wrote in my notes for today's poop patrol of my neighborhood:
ReplyDeleteGlare and cold together (10:55-11:50 a.m. 24-28°) caused occasional disorientation and confusion (as to where my left glove was, or what I was doing). Mortal thoughts....Thoughts of Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation, its meanings, to her, to many....[Earlier today, Carolyn & I had watched the TV interview of the Queen.]
Aging is difficult. I think too often there is not enough real dialogue about it. Love this writing.
ReplyDeleteGreat piece Sharon. When we're young, no one warns us our own bodies can become our personal torture chambers. As a young, healthy man I could never picture actually welcoming the idea of not living forever. That the flesh, no matter how derelict, was of paramount importance, and giving it up unthinkable. I'm not there yet but I have had a taste of the kind of pain and general misery which might make the idea less repellent. Hope you feel better and give Timmy a pat from me.
ReplyDelete