Yesterday morning, I posted this on Facebook:
"It was 20 years ago today, Sgt Pepper taught the band to play...
and in a few short moments on a highway in Philadelphia, I traveled from social worker to client.
It's been a VERY long time since the anniversary of my brain injury has bothered me, but I have to admit this one is. I need to actively remind myself that recovery is a life long process filled with 3 steps forward and 2.99 steps back, that while I routinely remind others to have realistic expectations for their recovery, I need to have more realistic expectations for my own and that even on the days my brain is most fatigued and I'm frustrated because I'm at my least functional, I am still a gazillion times more able than I was in the first year after the accident.
So today I will allow myself to feel badly for a bit and then I will take control of my anniversary and do something I wasn't capable of doing 20 years ago today."
My post was a way to remind myself it's ok to be sad AND (one of my very favorite words) that I was fluent in the strategies I needed to face the day. It felt sort of like someone publicly declaring they are giving up smoking or starting an exercise program; when you say it out loud you feel more committed.
And then, I went about my day.
First up, a Doctor's appt. I did a whole lot of seeing Doctors 20 years ago, so to differentiate those Doctor appointments from this Doctor's appointment, to remind myself of how far I've come, Rango and I walked up the 6 flights of stairs to his office. A far cry from the days of someone helping me into a wheelchair and then wheeling me to the bathroom. I was a bit winded by the time I got to the Sixth floor, but was beginning to feel strong.
Next it was on to my Mom's memory care assisted living facility. After a visit with her, during which I'm fairly certain she was more delighted to see Rango than she was to see me (and can you blame her), I met with a Palliative Care Nurse to develop a Care Plan. Now 20 years ago, I spent hours and hours talking about and thinking about Care Plans, but surreal as it seemed to me at the time, it was no longer my client's Care Plans I was discussing, it was my own. (My empathy for my former clients grew 10 fold during those Team Meetings, as I realized how bizarre it feels to be sitting in a room full of health care and rehab. professionals and YOU are the topic.)
But now 20 years later, I was paying it forward. Unlike that first year(s) after my injury, I was capable of fully participating in ensuring my Mom gets the supportive services she needs and able to think creatively to problem solve strategies to deal with the obstacles that arise. Those first years after my injury when I was adjusting to the reality that in all liklihood I would never have the cognitive stamina to be competitively employed, in many ways I felt lost. Being a Social Worker wasn't just my what I did for a living, it was who I was as a person. Today's meeting to design a Care Plan for my Mom was a concrete reminder that regardless of whether or not I have a paying job as a Social Worker, I am able and I am committed to strive to make a difference in this world.
By then, my exhausted brain needed a rest so it was on to mindless television until I had recovered enough to listen to my Survivors Playlist:
Reba McEntire's I'm Gonna Take That Mountain:
"I was born a stubborn soul.
Ain't afraid of the great unknown
Or a winding road that's all uphill...
I'm gonna take that mountain. "
Reba's I'm a Survivor:
"And though my life is changing fast,
Who I am is who I want to be...
A victim of circumstance.
The one who oughta give up,
but she's just too hard headed.
I'm a survivor.
Patty Griffin's I'm Making Pies:
"You could cry or die or just make pies all day.
I'm making pies."
Patty's I Don't Ever Give Up:
"But I don't give up, no, I don't ever give up
It's all I've got, it's my claim to fame."
Bruce Springsteen's The Rising:
"Lost track of how far I've gone
How far I've gone, how high I've climbed...
Come on up for the rising..."
And of course, the grand finale, the song I listen to right before every speech or presentation I give, the song that I play in my head when I feel a challenge may too big for me to face.
Sing along now:
"Oh yes, I am wise
But it's wisdom born of pain.
Yes, I've paid a price
But look how much I've gained
If I have to, I can face anything.
I am strong.
I am invincible.
I am woman. "
By the time I listened to the latter, I was in an Uber car headed back to my Mom's to see our favorite quirky music man, who comes to Arden Courts each month to entertain and lead a sing a long. I was in the back seat, head phones on, pumping my fist to the chorus: "I am strong..." As has happened on more than one occassion, I'm fairly certain Rango rolled his eyes at me and the Uber driver stole glances at me in the rear view mirror, slightly amused and perhaps a tad alarmed.
As my Mom and I sang along to songs she still knows by heart (and now unfortunatly not only do I know Ballin the Jack by heart, it's the ear worm stuck in my head,) I reveled in life truths that became so crystal clear to me over these past 20 years - the importance of simple pleasures, the value in striving for pleasant moments and the joy in human connection.
Those of you who know me well and know the limits of my cognitive stamina, can see in the description of my anniversary day's activities, that 20 years later I continue to struggle with living within the limits of my injured brain's very limited energy supply. I continue to be a work in progress.
As I rode home in an Uber car yesterday evening, I thought about my day and was pleased with how I'd done. I had allowed myself to be sad; I had been prepared for that possibility. I have to admit, I was taken by surprise by the flashbacks of the accident itself. (Before my mental health pro friends become alarmed, they weren't true flashbacks. I knew I wasn't actually back on that Highway. Clinically they were intrusive memories.) But I was able to note them and move on with my day, being intentionally mindful of all that I could do that would have been impossible 20 years ago, including using Uber by myself. I took time to remind myself of how amazing it was to be able to go places alone when for so long it wasn't truly safe for me to be in my own home alone. That is until there was Stone. With him I was never alone.
And then I opened Facebook.
When I posted my committment to myself this morning, my vow to allow today to have a balance of grief and positivity, I expected a few hang in theres, a prayer or two, perhaps a few posted hearts and maybe an I love you. What I found instead was an outpouring of love and support and community. I sat speechless, reading, tears rolling down my cheeks and felt my heart grow three sizes bigger. I felt physically lighter as if this community of friends and family were holding me up off the ground, holding some of my burden. I was reminded of the power of kindness and felt so incredibly blessed to be surrounded by such loving, giving, kind souls. I want each and every person who left me a Comment, who clicked "Like" on my Post, who left me a voice mail or sent me an email or text to know that you made a difference in the world, you made a difference to me. Your kindness mattered.
I am a true believer that like a pebble in a pond, each kind gesture has a ripple effect on the world we live in. Yesterday my Facebook family caused a tiddle wave of love and I am moved and humbled and emnormously grateful.
So today I am adding a song to my Survivor's playlist, inspired by the loving reminder from my family and friends that I am not alone on this journey, that there is a community of amazing people who are able and willing to lift me up when gravity seems too heavy to stand alone.
Christina Aguilera's Lift Me Up:
"If you life me up
Just get me through this night
I know I'll rest tomorrow
And I'll be strong enough to fight"
Showing posts with label Assistance Dog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Assistance Dog. Show all posts
Friday, June 26, 2015
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Coming Full Circle With Circle Tail
During the last week, while my service dog, Stone, underwent lumbar spine surgery, I thought a lot about how much he means to me and how he truly transformed my life. The truth is, I thought of little else. As I let out a huge sigh of relief when the surgeon came to tell me that in spite of his heart condition, he sailed through anesthesia without a hitch and that the surgery was a success, I immediately thought about how I couldn’t wait to tell Stone’s Circle Tail family who I knew were out there rooting for him.
As I sent Marlys Staly, Circle Tail’s Executive Director, (or Aunt Marlys as Stone refers to her), and the rest of his Circle Tail family an email update, I remembered a narrative I had written for Circle Tail a couple of years ago, when Stone was first diagnosed with his heart condition. As I am sitting here with Stone, once again happily taking care of him for a change, it seemed appropriate to share that narrative on my blog.
Coming Full Circle With Circle Tail
On a June evening, as I was headed home from work , I had an auto accident that left me with a traumatic brain injury and a life forever altered. For the first seven years, I was so impaired it wasn’t truly safe for me to be anywhere by myself, not even in my own home.
Because of balance and depth perception deficits, I frequently fell and walked into things, resulting not only in an abundance of bumps and bruises, but, on three separate occasions, new, less severe brain injuries. My memory was so impaired that even when I remembered to set the timer as a cue to take my medication, I’d all too often get distracted before I made my way to my pill box.
When not at home, I was mostly in a wheelchair.
I lost a lot that day in June - skills and abilities, memories and knowledge, my paid and volunteer jobs in human services, an active and independent life and eventually, my marriage. In an instant, my world became oh so small.
And then came Stone.
Stone is a long haired Weimaraner who came to Circle Tail when he was just 8 weeks old. While his two siblings were adopted out to loving homes, Stone was a star pupil in Circle Tail’s Prison Dog Training Program. Just shy of his 3rd birthday, Stone and I were partnered.
Because of Stone, not only have I left my wheelchair behind, he and I go hiking in the mountains. His assistance with balance and depth perception have empowered me to dramatically increase my physical abilities and endurance, which has, in turn, dramatically increased my cognitive abilities and endurance. Because of Stone, I’ve been able to return to social work, as a volunteer, helping other families whose lives have been altered by brain injury. Because of Stone, I once again lead a rich and fulfilling life. Because of Stone, my world is both bigger and brighter.
A lot of life and love have passed since that first December day Marlys introduced Stone and I. We are such a well tuned team now, it’s hard to even remember that for the first month, figuring out how to put on his harness was so difficult for me it took nearly 10 minutes every time.
Happily, throughout our time as a team, Circle Tail has been there every step of the way.
After we were partnered, Marlys helped us build on the skills Stone learned in Circle Tail’s Inmate/Canine Education Program in order to ensure Stone met my specific needs. Together we taught him to bring my medication to me when the timer went off and then to bring a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Whenever we’ve run into new challenges, Circle Tail has been there with new solutions. When I have questions or concerns or want someone to join our “victory dance” when Stone and I accomplish some new feat, Circle Tail has been there.
Stone and I are now facing an often overwhelming obstacle and true to form, Circle Tail is there. In July, Stone became critically ill with a gastrointestinal illness. While his GI condition has thankfully resolved, it left him with a serious heart problem. In those first few days, when Stone was so acutely ill, Marlys was on the other end of the phone helping me sort through it all and perhaps most importantly, reminding me to breath. Circle Tail’s Advisory Board was there as well. A Vet on the Board sent me information about Stone’s condition, written in a way we “mere mortals” could understand. And now that Stone is rehabbing from his illness and adjusting to his new heart medication and cardiac testing routine, Circle Tail is once again, joining our victory dances.
As time goes by, more and more I will become Stone’s service human. That’s just fine by me as I’m more than happy to return the favor.
As you can see, I owe Circle Tail more than I can ever hope to repay, so when they asked if I would speak at their annual Dinner, Art and Wine for Canines I was thrilled at the opportunity to give something back to this amazing organization that rescued my amazing dog who in turn rescued me. The event is March 3rd and I’ll be speaking about “Building a Life You Like Even When It’s Not the One You Wanted”.
Stone has indeed helped me build a life I like.
You can find out more about the event on the Circle Tail website: http://circletail.net/index.php?page=dinner-art-wine-for-canines-2. The deadline to purchase tickets is Feb 22nd.
Stone and I would love to see you there.
As I sent Marlys Staly, Circle Tail’s Executive Director, (or Aunt Marlys as Stone refers to her), and the rest of his Circle Tail family an email update, I remembered a narrative I had written for Circle Tail a couple of years ago, when Stone was first diagnosed with his heart condition. As I am sitting here with Stone, once again happily taking care of him for a change, it seemed appropriate to share that narrative on my blog.
Coming Full Circle With Circle Tail
On a June evening, as I was headed home from work , I had an auto accident that left me with a traumatic brain injury and a life forever altered. For the first seven years, I was so impaired it wasn’t truly safe for me to be anywhere by myself, not even in my own home.
Because of balance and depth perception deficits, I frequently fell and walked into things, resulting not only in an abundance of bumps and bruises, but, on three separate occasions, new, less severe brain injuries. My memory was so impaired that even when I remembered to set the timer as a cue to take my medication, I’d all too often get distracted before I made my way to my pill box.
When not at home, I was mostly in a wheelchair.
I lost a lot that day in June - skills and abilities, memories and knowledge, my paid and volunteer jobs in human services, an active and independent life and eventually, my marriage. In an instant, my world became oh so small.
And then came Stone.
Stone is a long haired Weimaraner who came to Circle Tail when he was just 8 weeks old. While his two siblings were adopted out to loving homes, Stone was a star pupil in Circle Tail’s Prison Dog Training Program. Just shy of his 3rd birthday, Stone and I were partnered.
Because of Stone, not only have I left my wheelchair behind, he and I go hiking in the mountains. His assistance with balance and depth perception have empowered me to dramatically increase my physical abilities and endurance, which has, in turn, dramatically increased my cognitive abilities and endurance. Because of Stone, I’ve been able to return to social work, as a volunteer, helping other families whose lives have been altered by brain injury. Because of Stone, I once again lead a rich and fulfilling life. Because of Stone, my world is both bigger and brighter.
A lot of life and love have passed since that first December day Marlys introduced Stone and I. We are such a well tuned team now, it’s hard to even remember that for the first month, figuring out how to put on his harness was so difficult for me it took nearly 10 minutes every time.
Happily, throughout our time as a team, Circle Tail has been there every step of the way.
After we were partnered, Marlys helped us build on the skills Stone learned in Circle Tail’s Inmate/Canine Education Program in order to ensure Stone met my specific needs. Together we taught him to bring my medication to me when the timer went off and then to bring a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Whenever we’ve run into new challenges, Circle Tail has been there with new solutions. When I have questions or concerns or want someone to join our “victory dance” when Stone and I accomplish some new feat, Circle Tail has been there.
Stone and I are now facing an often overwhelming obstacle and true to form, Circle Tail is there. In July, Stone became critically ill with a gastrointestinal illness. While his GI condition has thankfully resolved, it left him with a serious heart problem. In those first few days, when Stone was so acutely ill, Marlys was on the other end of the phone helping me sort through it all and perhaps most importantly, reminding me to breath. Circle Tail’s Advisory Board was there as well. A Vet on the Board sent me information about Stone’s condition, written in a way we “mere mortals” could understand. And now that Stone is rehabbing from his illness and adjusting to his new heart medication and cardiac testing routine, Circle Tail is once again, joining our victory dances.
As time goes by, more and more I will become Stone’s service human. That’s just fine by me as I’m more than happy to return the favor.
As you can see, I owe Circle Tail more than I can ever hope to repay, so when they asked if I would speak at their annual Dinner, Art and Wine for Canines I was thrilled at the opportunity to give something back to this amazing organization that rescued my amazing dog who in turn rescued me. The event is March 3rd and I’ll be speaking about “Building a Life You Like Even When It’s Not the One You Wanted”.
Stone has indeed helped me build a life I like.
You can find out more about the event on the Circle Tail website: http://circletail.net/index.php?page=dinner-art-wine-for-canines-2. The deadline to purchase tickets is Feb 22nd.
Stone and I would love to see you there.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Travelogue - Tales with a Tail
Recently, my service dog Stone and I returned from a 5 + week trip, an East Coast tour of people and places I love. We spent time in places I used to live near enough to frequent frequently, but more importantly, we spent time with family I miss dearly and friends so dear they are a part of me.
It seems fitting that it’s Thanksgiving week when I finally have the time and cognitive energy to reflect on our adventure in writing because our trip was so filled with so many moments that reminded me I have so much to be thankful for.
Our adventure began in Williamsburg, VA, an area steeped with history and filled with people who love their heritage and who genuinely seem to love sharing it with interested travelers. There are lots of reasons I love Williamsburg, the life- alteringly good food at the Colonial Williamsburg restaurants being one of them, but I realized this time that one of reasons is that the people who work and volunteer in the historic sites in the Williamsburg-Jamestown vicinity, seem to get such joy from sharing their passion for history with others. Their joy and passion are contagious.
Next it was on to the southernmost tip of the Jersey Shore, Cape May Point or, as it’s known to those of us who have the Point in our souls, The Best Place on Earth. (Sorry Snooki et al, there are no bars or liquor stores in the Point so there’s no point in you stopping by.) The Point is a bird sanctuary and as it was both bird and monarch butterfly migration season, the area was filled with birds and butterflies and birders, the latter of which are easily as fascinating and engaging a species as the first two.
In addition to soaking up the sights, sounds and smells of my youth and adolescents, I was able to spend time with both family and friends and have two glorious girls’ weekends during which I talked with old friends (oops I mean long time friends), pretty much non-stop during our waking hours.
Two of the friends were women with whom I’d spent nearly every day and night during the summers I was 14 and 15 but then we grew in our own separate ways. I am fairly certain I hadn’t seen one of these women since I was 15 years old. What a great joy it was to be reminded that it wasn’t merely proximity that bonded us together, rather, it was a similar view of the world and clearly, and I do mean clearly, a shared sense of humor as well as an apparent affection for a well…, um…., let’s call it a “party game” called Riki Tiki Bear. All these years post brain injury, sometimes I still have trouble remembering how to divide, yet I can recite verbatim, with proper cadence and in complete unison with my long lost friends the words to Riki Tiki Bear. I am choosing to believe this is a reflection of the quirky nature of brain injuries rather than a reflection of my quirky brain’s priorities.
From there it was on to Washington DC to visit with the “DC contingent” of our family and with more friends who feel like family, all people I love so much I forget how much I miss them until I’m with them. While I lived in the Maryland suburbs of DC for years, I’ve never grown immune to the majesty and grandeur of the museums, monuments and federal buildings in the seat of our Nation’s capital. This trip I was able to see three new-to-me monuments, the FDR, the World War II and the Martin Luther King, which opened for visitors while I was in town.
Growing up in our Irish Catholic family, FDR was more revered than even the winningest coach of Notre Dame. Our Grandfather, like so many men of his time, lost his business in the Depression and, with the help of one of FDR’s loan programs, bought a farm, where he started over, literally, from the ground up. As I walked through the Memorial, I thought about my Father and the stories he told about his own Father and about growing up on that farm and I missed him just a little bit less.
Just a short walk around a portion of the Tidal Basin is the Martin Luther King Memorial. I’d seen it on the news just a few days before on the day of its official opening. Frankly, I had not really liked what I’d seen on TV of the Memorial so I was completely taken aback by my reaction as I turned the corner and entered. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I stood in awe of the Memorial, in awe of the man who had changed the course of history with his words and his dedication to non-violent protest.
I walked further and stood in a small crowd of people looking up at the towering central statue. This group of strangers, who’d never met before entering the Memorial, were all interacting and laughing and taking photos of each other. It was unlike any crowd viewing any Memorial I’d ever been a part of. I stood there a long time. I stood there as two more groups of strangers came and went and they too were talking and laughing and snapping photos as if they were long lost friends. More tears flowed down my cheeks. Much like the man himself, it was awe inspiring.
On another day I visited the World War II Memorial to give thanks to not only my Father who, as a boy, fought alongside other boys in the Battle of Okinawa, but to an entire generation of men and women who sacrificed so much for so many and who role modeled for all of us how to put the good of the country and the common-good above our own individual welfare.
As always, traveling with Stone provided ample opportunities to be amused and and just as many opportunities to remember how incredibly lucky I am to have him in my life. As anyone with a service dog will attest, people are intently curious about our canine companions and like most Mom’s, I’m convinced there is something uniquely special about my baby which serves to increase the number of inquiries and admiring glances we receive.
In answering the questions of curious strangers, time and time again I told the tale of Circle Tail, the non-profit organization that trained Stone. I talked about how they rescued all the dogs they train to be service dogs and that they partner them with persons with disabilities and hearing impairments at no cost to the recipients. When they wanted to know more, I told them “our story”, at least the cliff notes version, about how Circle Tail had rescued Stone when he was 8 weeks old and placed him in their Prison Training Program for nearly 3 years where he rescued prisoners by giving them a chance to love and be loved and an opportunity to give back to the community and then went on to rescue me from a post-brain injury life of dependence, isolation, inactivity and inability.
As I listened to my own words and watched the reaction in the faces of strangers, I realized that I am living a Lifetime Movie Network feel-good, inspirational movie of the week. And I was grateful. And I am grateful. Each and every day I am eternally grateful to Circle Tail for rescuing my beautiful and brilliant beast and then for giving me the tremendous privilege of being his human partner and I am equally grateful to this amazing animal who has quite literally transformed my life.
Valerie Bertinelli, if you’re out there, I want you to play me in the movie. Stone will, of course, play himself.
As adventures with Stone always are, this trip was filled lots of laughter courtesy of my canine. While he didn’t add to his list of “States and Countries I’ve Peed In”, which is, after all, the whole point of any road trip, he did teach himself a new skill. Museums, historical buildings and the like have always been on his Top Ten Things to Avoid on Vacation, but during this trip, he learned a sure fire way to get to leave when it’s been “enough already – how much old crud can you look at?”. He taught himself the fine art of looking as if he is about to throw up and I have to say, it’s quite effective. We did in fact make a hasty retreat. Mind you, in neither instance when he employed this tactic did he ever actually get sick and it’s worth mentioning that in all of our years together he has never once looked like this without actually getting sick. Yes, it’s pretty clear who the brains in our partnership is.
On our way to Cape May, we took the Cape May-Lewes Ferry across the Delaware Bay. During the Ferry crossing, I had my favorite to date “I-don’t-care-what-you’re-in-the-middle-of-doing-I want-to-pet-your-service-dog-and-that’s-so- important-it’s-okay-I-interrupt-you” story, which we service dog people share with each other accompanied by squeals of laughter. The day before, I discovered I’d inadvertently run out of one of my brain injury medications and rather than call my Doctor on a weekend, I decided to tough it out and wait until Monday. So, I was sick before we got on the Ferry to find the water considerably less than calm.
I was laying on a bench, vomit bag in hand with a back up nearby and Stone was asleep-ish with one eye open focused on me, under the table. I’d finally fallen asleep when I was awoken by, you guessed it, “Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me.” each time a little louder than the last. I opened one eye and found a Ferry employee looking down at me. Thinking she was there to offer some sort of assistance I sat up, sort of. Alas, I was wrong., what she really wanted, of course, was to ask “Can I pet your dog?” I explained “No. He’s working. “ and before she could ask more about him I added, somehow mustering up my nice voice in spite of the narrative going on in my head about her, “And I’m really not feeling well so I’m gonna lay back down now,” to which she said “Oh yea. I saw your sick bag when I walked up so I figured you weren’t feeling well.” I try to keep my blog rated PG so I will refrain from sharing what the narrator in my head had to say about her when I realized she knew I was sick and still felt compelled to wake me.
In Washington DC, we had lots of fun educating Taxi Drivers about service dogs. I learned quickly I had to call dispatch to request a cab because drivers wouldn’t stop when they saw Stone. Little did they know he’s, by far, much better behaved than I am.
My favorite Cabbie moment came in front of the Martin Luther King Memorial. We had just come from the incredible moving Memorial and I called dispatch to request a cab. When he got there he said “You have a dog. You can’t get in my cab,” to which I explained that he’s a service dog, just like a guide dog for a person who is blind. “I don’t care. You can’t get in my cab.” The conversation went on for several minutes, with me explaining that it’s against the law to tell me I can’t get in his cab, that it would be like saying to someone “You can’t get in my cab because you’re blind.” etc. His reply remained consistent, “I don’t care. You can’t get in my cab.” Finally I told him he could lose his Hack license and that if he drove away I would report him. This got his attention a bit and he was now willing to compromise: “Okay, but he has to ride in the truck.”
Can real life get any funnier than that????
Shockingly, I was unwilling to put Stone in the trunk so he did in fact drive away, giving me an amazing, once in a lifetime, goose bump-moment opportunity. I got to call and report my civil rights had been violated standing right there in front of the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial. Often people refer to the quest for equal rights for persons with disabilities as the “New Civil Rights Movement” and there I was at the entrance of the Memorial built to honor the Father of the civil rights movement standing up.
Stone is particularly proud of our next funny taxi story. We were in DC near the rear entrance to the White House. While it had been raining on and off, the rain started coming down pretty hard. I tried to hail a cab, but, no surprise, no one stopped for my wet dog and I. There was a DC police officer on a bicycle talking with the two uniformed Secret Service agents guarding the back gate of the White House. I approached the officer, explained that I couldn’t get a cab to stop for my service dog and I in the rain. One of the Secret Service agents, without hesitation, walked into the middle of the street, pointed at a cabbie going the other way and asked “Are you headed to pick up a fare?” When he said “No”, the Agent instructed him to “Do a U-Turn and pull over here.” He then opened the cab door for us, asked me where we were going so he could tell the driver and added “This is a working dog so I don’t want to hear that you gave her any trouble about it.” Stone is convinced he’s the only dog who has ever had the Secret Service hail a cab for him.
One of Stone, (and my), favorite parts of the trip was a weekend stay with our friends Frank, Maria and Mia. For Stone, I’m fairly certain their house was a lot like Disneyworld. First, the human to dog ratio was excellent, especially because all 3 of our hosts are dog lovers. Next, they have 3, count ‘em 3, cats, to stare at obsessively. When one gets boring, move on to the next, sort of canine channel surfing. Then finally, they have an open door walk-in pantry filled with endless goodies and endless good smells. I would find him there periodically, standing, gazing lovingly at the food with an “all’s right in the world” expression. In fact, since they had Wheat Thins, which are forbidden in my house because to me they’re like Crack, I would, on occasion, join him and together, the two of us would gaze upon the goodies.
And so, on this Thanksgiving weekend, to all of those who made my “East Coast Tour of People and Places I love” so wonderful, Wood and Stone and Donna and Nancy and Lee and Mark and Karl and Norah and Patty and Randi and Debbie and Leilah and Mo and Mo’s Frank and Bongi and Craig Joe and Frank and Maria and Mia and Richard and Richard’s pie, you are all on my list of things for which I’m grateful. Thank you for being in my life and for sharing our adventure.
It seems fitting that it’s Thanksgiving week when I finally have the time and cognitive energy to reflect on our adventure in writing because our trip was so filled with so many moments that reminded me I have so much to be thankful for.
Our adventure began in Williamsburg, VA, an area steeped with history and filled with people who love their heritage and who genuinely seem to love sharing it with interested travelers. There are lots of reasons I love Williamsburg, the life- alteringly good food at the Colonial Williamsburg restaurants being one of them, but I realized this time that one of reasons is that the people who work and volunteer in the historic sites in the Williamsburg-Jamestown vicinity, seem to get such joy from sharing their passion for history with others. Their joy and passion are contagious.
Next it was on to the southernmost tip of the Jersey Shore, Cape May Point or, as it’s known to those of us who have the Point in our souls, The Best Place on Earth. (Sorry Snooki et al, there are no bars or liquor stores in the Point so there’s no point in you stopping by.) The Point is a bird sanctuary and as it was both bird and monarch butterfly migration season, the area was filled with birds and butterflies and birders, the latter of which are easily as fascinating and engaging a species as the first two.
In addition to soaking up the sights, sounds and smells of my youth and adolescents, I was able to spend time with both family and friends and have two glorious girls’ weekends during which I talked with old friends (oops I mean long time friends), pretty much non-stop during our waking hours.
Two of the friends were women with whom I’d spent nearly every day and night during the summers I was 14 and 15 but then we grew in our own separate ways. I am fairly certain I hadn’t seen one of these women since I was 15 years old. What a great joy it was to be reminded that it wasn’t merely proximity that bonded us together, rather, it was a similar view of the world and clearly, and I do mean clearly, a shared sense of humor as well as an apparent affection for a well…, um…., let’s call it a “party game” called Riki Tiki Bear. All these years post brain injury, sometimes I still have trouble remembering how to divide, yet I can recite verbatim, with proper cadence and in complete unison with my long lost friends the words to Riki Tiki Bear. I am choosing to believe this is a reflection of the quirky nature of brain injuries rather than a reflection of my quirky brain’s priorities.
From there it was on to Washington DC to visit with the “DC contingent” of our family and with more friends who feel like family, all people I love so much I forget how much I miss them until I’m with them. While I lived in the Maryland suburbs of DC for years, I’ve never grown immune to the majesty and grandeur of the museums, monuments and federal buildings in the seat of our Nation’s capital. This trip I was able to see three new-to-me monuments, the FDR, the World War II and the Martin Luther King, which opened for visitors while I was in town.
Growing up in our Irish Catholic family, FDR was more revered than even the winningest coach of Notre Dame. Our Grandfather, like so many men of his time, lost his business in the Depression and, with the help of one of FDR’s loan programs, bought a farm, where he started over, literally, from the ground up. As I walked through the Memorial, I thought about my Father and the stories he told about his own Father and about growing up on that farm and I missed him just a little bit less.
Just a short walk around a portion of the Tidal Basin is the Martin Luther King Memorial. I’d seen it on the news just a few days before on the day of its official opening. Frankly, I had not really liked what I’d seen on TV of the Memorial so I was completely taken aback by my reaction as I turned the corner and entered. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I stood in awe of the Memorial, in awe of the man who had changed the course of history with his words and his dedication to non-violent protest.
I walked further and stood in a small crowd of people looking up at the towering central statue. This group of strangers, who’d never met before entering the Memorial, were all interacting and laughing and taking photos of each other. It was unlike any crowd viewing any Memorial I’d ever been a part of. I stood there a long time. I stood there as two more groups of strangers came and went and they too were talking and laughing and snapping photos as if they were long lost friends. More tears flowed down my cheeks. Much like the man himself, it was awe inspiring.
On another day I visited the World War II Memorial to give thanks to not only my Father who, as a boy, fought alongside other boys in the Battle of Okinawa, but to an entire generation of men and women who sacrificed so much for so many and who role modeled for all of us how to put the good of the country and the common-good above our own individual welfare.
As always, traveling with Stone provided ample opportunities to be amused and and just as many opportunities to remember how incredibly lucky I am to have him in my life. As anyone with a service dog will attest, people are intently curious about our canine companions and like most Mom’s, I’m convinced there is something uniquely special about my baby which serves to increase the number of inquiries and admiring glances we receive.
In answering the questions of curious strangers, time and time again I told the tale of Circle Tail, the non-profit organization that trained Stone. I talked about how they rescued all the dogs they train to be service dogs and that they partner them with persons with disabilities and hearing impairments at no cost to the recipients. When they wanted to know more, I told them “our story”, at least the cliff notes version, about how Circle Tail had rescued Stone when he was 8 weeks old and placed him in their Prison Training Program for nearly 3 years where he rescued prisoners by giving them a chance to love and be loved and an opportunity to give back to the community and then went on to rescue me from a post-brain injury life of dependence, isolation, inactivity and inability.
As I listened to my own words and watched the reaction in the faces of strangers, I realized that I am living a Lifetime Movie Network feel-good, inspirational movie of the week. And I was grateful. And I am grateful. Each and every day I am eternally grateful to Circle Tail for rescuing my beautiful and brilliant beast and then for giving me the tremendous privilege of being his human partner and I am equally grateful to this amazing animal who has quite literally transformed my life.
Valerie Bertinelli, if you’re out there, I want you to play me in the movie. Stone will, of course, play himself.
As adventures with Stone always are, this trip was filled lots of laughter courtesy of my canine. While he didn’t add to his list of “States and Countries I’ve Peed In”, which is, after all, the whole point of any road trip, he did teach himself a new skill. Museums, historical buildings and the like have always been on his Top Ten Things to Avoid on Vacation, but during this trip, he learned a sure fire way to get to leave when it’s been “enough already – how much old crud can you look at?”. He taught himself the fine art of looking as if he is about to throw up and I have to say, it’s quite effective. We did in fact make a hasty retreat. Mind you, in neither instance when he employed this tactic did he ever actually get sick and it’s worth mentioning that in all of our years together he has never once looked like this without actually getting sick. Yes, it’s pretty clear who the brains in our partnership is.
On our way to Cape May, we took the Cape May-Lewes Ferry across the Delaware Bay. During the Ferry crossing, I had my favorite to date “I-don’t-care-what-you’re-in-the-middle-of-doing-I want-to-pet-your-service-dog-and-that’s-so- important-it’s-okay-I-interrupt-you” story, which we service dog people share with each other accompanied by squeals of laughter. The day before, I discovered I’d inadvertently run out of one of my brain injury medications and rather than call my Doctor on a weekend, I decided to tough it out and wait until Monday. So, I was sick before we got on the Ferry to find the water considerably less than calm.
I was laying on a bench, vomit bag in hand with a back up nearby and Stone was asleep-ish with one eye open focused on me, under the table. I’d finally fallen asleep when I was awoken by, you guessed it, “Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me.” each time a little louder than the last. I opened one eye and found a Ferry employee looking down at me. Thinking she was there to offer some sort of assistance I sat up, sort of. Alas, I was wrong., what she really wanted, of course, was to ask “Can I pet your dog?” I explained “No. He’s working. “ and before she could ask more about him I added, somehow mustering up my nice voice in spite of the narrative going on in my head about her, “And I’m really not feeling well so I’m gonna lay back down now,” to which she said “Oh yea. I saw your sick bag when I walked up so I figured you weren’t feeling well.” I try to keep my blog rated PG so I will refrain from sharing what the narrator in my head had to say about her when I realized she knew I was sick and still felt compelled to wake me.
In Washington DC, we had lots of fun educating Taxi Drivers about service dogs. I learned quickly I had to call dispatch to request a cab because drivers wouldn’t stop when they saw Stone. Little did they know he’s, by far, much better behaved than I am.
My favorite Cabbie moment came in front of the Martin Luther King Memorial. We had just come from the incredible moving Memorial and I called dispatch to request a cab. When he got there he said “You have a dog. You can’t get in my cab,” to which I explained that he’s a service dog, just like a guide dog for a person who is blind. “I don’t care. You can’t get in my cab.” The conversation went on for several minutes, with me explaining that it’s against the law to tell me I can’t get in his cab, that it would be like saying to someone “You can’t get in my cab because you’re blind.” etc. His reply remained consistent, “I don’t care. You can’t get in my cab.” Finally I told him he could lose his Hack license and that if he drove away I would report him. This got his attention a bit and he was now willing to compromise: “Okay, but he has to ride in the truck.”
Can real life get any funnier than that????
Shockingly, I was unwilling to put Stone in the trunk so he did in fact drive away, giving me an amazing, once in a lifetime, goose bump-moment opportunity. I got to call and report my civil rights had been violated standing right there in front of the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial. Often people refer to the quest for equal rights for persons with disabilities as the “New Civil Rights Movement” and there I was at the entrance of the Memorial built to honor the Father of the civil rights movement standing up.
Stone is particularly proud of our next funny taxi story. We were in DC near the rear entrance to the White House. While it had been raining on and off, the rain started coming down pretty hard. I tried to hail a cab, but, no surprise, no one stopped for my wet dog and I. There was a DC police officer on a bicycle talking with the two uniformed Secret Service agents guarding the back gate of the White House. I approached the officer, explained that I couldn’t get a cab to stop for my service dog and I in the rain. One of the Secret Service agents, without hesitation, walked into the middle of the street, pointed at a cabbie going the other way and asked “Are you headed to pick up a fare?” When he said “No”, the Agent instructed him to “Do a U-Turn and pull over here.” He then opened the cab door for us, asked me where we were going so he could tell the driver and added “This is a working dog so I don’t want to hear that you gave her any trouble about it.” Stone is convinced he’s the only dog who has ever had the Secret Service hail a cab for him.
One of Stone, (and my), favorite parts of the trip was a weekend stay with our friends Frank, Maria and Mia. For Stone, I’m fairly certain their house was a lot like Disneyworld. First, the human to dog ratio was excellent, especially because all 3 of our hosts are dog lovers. Next, they have 3, count ‘em 3, cats, to stare at obsessively. When one gets boring, move on to the next, sort of canine channel surfing. Then finally, they have an open door walk-in pantry filled with endless goodies and endless good smells. I would find him there periodically, standing, gazing lovingly at the food with an “all’s right in the world” expression. In fact, since they had Wheat Thins, which are forbidden in my house because to me they’re like Crack, I would, on occasion, join him and together, the two of us would gaze upon the goodies.
And so, on this Thanksgiving weekend, to all of those who made my “East Coast Tour of People and Places I love” so wonderful, Wood and Stone and Donna and Nancy and Lee and Mark and Karl and Norah and Patty and Randi and Debbie and Leilah and Mo and Mo’s Frank and Bongi and Craig Joe and Frank and Maria and Mia and Richard and Richard’s pie, you are all on my list of things for which I’m grateful. Thank you for being in my life and for sharing our adventure.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Being Kind to Yourself
As January comes to an end, if you’re like me, the enthusiasm and determination you had when you made your New Year’s resolutions may have dimmed a bit, now that you’ve returned to the harsh reality of your too often overscheduled, hectic, day to day life and once you’ve once again remembered the sad truth that bad habits are hard to break and healthy habits are hard to make.
As you take time out to reflect on the resolutions that you may have already broken, I’d like to suggest you add one more to the list of those you truly want to keep. Let’s all resolve to be kind to ourselves. As children we learned the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have done unto you.” The truth is most of us are much kinder to other people, even strangers, than we are to ourselves.
When was the last time you said to someone, other than your own reflection, “Your butt looks HUGE in those pants” or asked someone who’s made a mistake “How could you be so stupid?”?
I propose we develop a Platinum Rule: Be as kind to yourself as you are to others.
The next time we look in the mirror and feel critical of our reflections, let’s change the way we see, not the way we look.
Let’s celebrate our victories and learn from our mistakes without judgment.
Think about how a child learns to walk. She stands and falls. Stands again. Takes one step and falls. It certainly doesn’t look like she’s berating herself. “How could I be so clumsy?” or blaming others “Hey, this floor is crooked.” She just adjusts her technique and tries again.
As most parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles have noted, there is considerable wisdom found in our children. They have an innate understanding that growth and learning only happens when they are willing to take risks. And yes, there is a learning curve and they will make mistakes and they will fall and maybe even get bruised, but that doesn’t stop them.
They merely pick themselves up when they fall or, when they don’t get their own coat on right the first time, they admonish their well intended parent who only wants to help with: “ME DO.”
Children make mistakes as they learn to walk, put on their own coats, tie their own shoes and feed themselves. They make mistakes because they're human. Now here's the big surprise. You may want to sit down for this startling revelation: we're human too and yes, we will make mistakes. If you're like me, you'll make lots of them.
And so, at the start of this New Year (I suppose this is really more the start-ish of the New Year rather than the actual start) I’m proposing each of us vows right now to adopt the Platinum Rule. I’m proposing each of us right now resolves to be kinder and more forgiving of ourselves and our mis-steps.
What do ya say? Are you with me
As you take time out to reflect on the resolutions that you may have already broken, I’d like to suggest you add one more to the list of those you truly want to keep. Let’s all resolve to be kind to ourselves. As children we learned the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have done unto you.” The truth is most of us are much kinder to other people, even strangers, than we are to ourselves.
When was the last time you said to someone, other than your own reflection, “Your butt looks HUGE in those pants” or asked someone who’s made a mistake “How could you be so stupid?”?
I propose we develop a Platinum Rule: Be as kind to yourself as you are to others.
The next time we look in the mirror and feel critical of our reflections, let’s change the way we see, not the way we look.
Let’s celebrate our victories and learn from our mistakes without judgment.
Think about how a child learns to walk. She stands and falls. Stands again. Takes one step and falls. It certainly doesn’t look like she’s berating herself. “How could I be so clumsy?” or blaming others “Hey, this floor is crooked.” She just adjusts her technique and tries again.
As most parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles have noted, there is considerable wisdom found in our children. They have an innate understanding that growth and learning only happens when they are willing to take risks. And yes, there is a learning curve and they will make mistakes and they will fall and maybe even get bruised, but that doesn’t stop them.
They merely pick themselves up when they fall or, when they don’t get their own coat on right the first time, they admonish their well intended parent who only wants to help with: “ME DO.”
Children make mistakes as they learn to walk, put on their own coats, tie their own shoes and feed themselves. They make mistakes because they're human. Now here's the big surprise. You may want to sit down for this startling revelation: we're human too and yes, we will make mistakes. If you're like me, you'll make lots of them.
And so, at the start of this New Year (I suppose this is really more the start-ish of the New Year rather than the actual start) I’m proposing each of us vows right now to adopt the Platinum Rule. I’m proposing each of us right now resolves to be kinder and more forgiving of ourselves and our mis-steps.
What do ya say? Are you with me
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Turning the Holidaze into Holidays
Even those of us who love the holidays can, at times, become overwhelmed by what can sometimes seem like it’s frantic pace. It’s at those moments, we feel like we’re in the midst of the Holidaze.
As is true in so many families, family traditions play an important role in my holiday celebrations. Traditions are important. They help us feel like a part of something larger than ourselves. They help remind us of the joy we’ve shared and help us feel closer to the loved ones we’ve lost.
Some traditions are spiritual, such as attending services together as a family. Some are silly, like the tradition my brother Tommy started when he was a teenager and I was very young. One year he proclaimed, I’m sure in large part motivated by his never ending drive to entertain his younger sisters, that we all had to wear EVERY piece of clothing we got for Christmas. That year, so family legend goes, he wore 3 sweaters and 2 scarves to Christmas mass.
Some traditions are labor intensive like baking a gazillion kinds of Christmas cookies and some are simple and sweet, such as ending Christmas Eve with a reading of ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas or in my brothers’ families case, the annual reading of How the Grinch Stole Christmas because it has so many opportunities for silly voices.
While traditions are important it’s also important to consciously choose each year which traditions to follow and which to skip. As the circumstances in our families change from year to year, so too should our holiday celebrations. Whether it’s an aging parent, young adolescents who would rather “die” than spend time with their parents, recent divorce or remarriage, toddlers on the loose, hard financial times or a brain injury, from year to year, the make up of each family, it’s family dynamics, and the abilities, likes and dis-likes of it’s members change.
Our families aren’t static nor should our holiday celebrations be.
If, for example, you decide one year that “forcing” your teenage son to attend the church sing-a-long because you always go as a family, will be painful, for both of you, go without him. Giving yourself, and him, permission to skip that tradition this year, doesn’t mean he’ll never attend the church sing-a-long again. It just means he’s not going this year.
If, for example, you’re exhausted from caring for a parent or other loved one, maybe you can skip the gazillion Christmas cookies this year. Think bakery or store bought or, heaven forbid, slice and bake. Trust me, life and the Holiday, will go along just fine without your revered butter cookies, at least this year.
Sending Christmas cards feels like yet another burden this year? Send “Hope you survive the winter” cards in January when life slows down and the weather keeps us inside or how about Valentine’s Day cards instead, telling people how much you love having them in your life.
My brain injury has forced me to pick and choose which holiday traditions are important enough to me to expend some of my very very limited cognitive energy on. I’ve learned to spend time each December thinking about how much I’m capable of doing this year without exhausting myself and then decide which things to say “yes” to and which to say “not this year”. I remind myself that “not this year” doesn’t mean never again; it just means “not this year”.
Sometimes I need help deciding what I am and am not capable of doing, or more precisely, what I’m capable of doing AND enjoying. For the first several years after my injury, I followed some traditions because I USED to like doing them and post-injury, from year to year, I’d forget how exhausting they now were or how much the new me DIDN’T like them at all.
(Partly in the spirit of full disclosure and partly because I’m afraid my family might read this and “rat” me out, while I am certainly getting better and better at living within the energy limits my injured brain imposes on me, I still make lots of mistakes. As my Rehabilitation Doctor often says about me “limit setting isn’t really her gift”.)
I think too many of us uphold traditions year in and year out, just because that’s how we always do it, even though they no longer enhance our celebration or, given the reality our family finds itself in this year, just don’t make sense. These are the traditions that are more stress-filled than joyful.
You may be following some traditions you no longer like (or at least you’d like to skip them this year), because you think they’re important to your parents or your kids or your spouse. I have a shocking idea for you – ask them.
You might be surprised, and relieved, by their answer.
Every year, no matter how cognitively fatigued I am, there are two family traditions I always uphold. I never ever go to sleep on Christmas Eve without reading or listening to 'Twas The Night Before Christmas and on Christmas Day I always wear every piece of clothing I got for Christmas.
Here’s hoping we all have a joyful Holiday Season.
As is true in so many families, family traditions play an important role in my holiday celebrations. Traditions are important. They help us feel like a part of something larger than ourselves. They help remind us of the joy we’ve shared and help us feel closer to the loved ones we’ve lost.
Some traditions are spiritual, such as attending services together as a family. Some are silly, like the tradition my brother Tommy started when he was a teenager and I was very young. One year he proclaimed, I’m sure in large part motivated by his never ending drive to entertain his younger sisters, that we all had to wear EVERY piece of clothing we got for Christmas. That year, so family legend goes, he wore 3 sweaters and 2 scarves to Christmas mass.
Some traditions are labor intensive like baking a gazillion kinds of Christmas cookies and some are simple and sweet, such as ending Christmas Eve with a reading of ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas or in my brothers’ families case, the annual reading of How the Grinch Stole Christmas because it has so many opportunities for silly voices.
While traditions are important it’s also important to consciously choose each year which traditions to follow and which to skip. As the circumstances in our families change from year to year, so too should our holiday celebrations. Whether it’s an aging parent, young adolescents who would rather “die” than spend time with their parents, recent divorce or remarriage, toddlers on the loose, hard financial times or a brain injury, from year to year, the make up of each family, it’s family dynamics, and the abilities, likes and dis-likes of it’s members change.
Our families aren’t static nor should our holiday celebrations be.
If, for example, you decide one year that “forcing” your teenage son to attend the church sing-a-long because you always go as a family, will be painful, for both of you, go without him. Giving yourself, and him, permission to skip that tradition this year, doesn’t mean he’ll never attend the church sing-a-long again. It just means he’s not going this year.
If, for example, you’re exhausted from caring for a parent or other loved one, maybe you can skip the gazillion Christmas cookies this year. Think bakery or store bought or, heaven forbid, slice and bake. Trust me, life and the Holiday, will go along just fine without your revered butter cookies, at least this year.
Sending Christmas cards feels like yet another burden this year? Send “Hope you survive the winter” cards in January when life slows down and the weather keeps us inside or how about Valentine’s Day cards instead, telling people how much you love having them in your life.
My brain injury has forced me to pick and choose which holiday traditions are important enough to me to expend some of my very very limited cognitive energy on. I’ve learned to spend time each December thinking about how much I’m capable of doing this year without exhausting myself and then decide which things to say “yes” to and which to say “not this year”. I remind myself that “not this year” doesn’t mean never again; it just means “not this year”.
Sometimes I need help deciding what I am and am not capable of doing, or more precisely, what I’m capable of doing AND enjoying. For the first several years after my injury, I followed some traditions because I USED to like doing them and post-injury, from year to year, I’d forget how exhausting they now were or how much the new me DIDN’T like them at all.
(Partly in the spirit of full disclosure and partly because I’m afraid my family might read this and “rat” me out, while I am certainly getting better and better at living within the energy limits my injured brain imposes on me, I still make lots of mistakes. As my Rehabilitation Doctor often says about me “limit setting isn’t really her gift”.)
I think too many of us uphold traditions year in and year out, just because that’s how we always do it, even though they no longer enhance our celebration or, given the reality our family finds itself in this year, just don’t make sense. These are the traditions that are more stress-filled than joyful.
You may be following some traditions you no longer like (or at least you’d like to skip them this year), because you think they’re important to your parents or your kids or your spouse. I have a shocking idea for you – ask them.
You might be surprised, and relieved, by their answer.
Every year, no matter how cognitively fatigued I am, there are two family traditions I always uphold. I never ever go to sleep on Christmas Eve without reading or listening to 'Twas The Night Before Christmas and on Christmas Day I always wear every piece of clothing I got for Christmas.
Here’s hoping we all have a joyful Holiday Season.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Finding Balance After Loss
Today is the 3rd anniversary of my brother Tom’s death (or Tommy as he will forever be known in my heart). Anniversaries such as these are always difficult. They serve as painful reminders of the loss we’ve suffered. Intrusive memories flash through our mind, like videos we can’t turn off. Seemingly against our will, the scenes from that horrid day replay in our minds as we’re flooded with physical and emotional reminders of how we felt when the loss was so painfully new.
Anyone who has sustained a brain injury knows all too well how difficult anniversaries of significant losses can be. Those of us who’ve been down that road understand that the loss we’ve suffered is one of the most painful of all – we’ve truly lost a part of ourselves. We’ve lost the person we used to be (or at least parts of that person); we’ve lost the life we used to live and the future we never will.
In fact, nearly every brain injury survivor I’ve ever met knows the exact date of his/her injury. Even those of us who have problems with memory can recite that date. That’s something we can’t seem to forget.
I too know the date my life completely changed – June 26, 1995. After several years of painful June 26’es, I decided to “take back” my anniversary. I decided that each June 26th I would spend at least part of the day doing something I couldn’t do in the early years following my brain injury. It can be simple tasks like taking a bus or going to the grocery by myself or even doing the laundry or it can be something intrinsically wonderful like hiking on difficult terrain with the help of my ever faithful service dog, Stone. Whatever it is I choose to do on June 26th, I make sure I’m mindful of how spectacular it is and how grateful I am that I can now do so much more than I could do in the evening of June 26th, 1995.
In recent years my wonderful friend Mikki has also “taken back” the anniversary of her injury. Now, each year on the anniversary of the stroke she suffered during brain surgery while in her 20's, she celebrates the day she lived. Her anniversary has become a second birthday for her and she spends time marveling at how grateful she is to be alive. Those of us who have the privilege of knowing and loving her, are equally grateful.
This year, my family and I are “taking back” the anniversary of my brother Tommy’s death. In life, Tom made the world a better place in a big way, on a grand scale and he loved his professional “calling” but, above all else, Tom loved his family. He was the center of our family – the keeper of family traditions, the teller of family tales (and true to our Irish heritage, over the years, the line between family history and blarney added for effect became a bit blurred).
His death left a hole that can never be filled and certainly Dec 3rd will always serve as a painful reminder of that loss BUT, his children, Leilah and Ruairi, and his wife Debbie, are ensuring that Dec 3rd is also a day we remember Tom as the devoted family man and friend. (Although in Tom’s case the phrase “family man and friend” is a bit redundant as his close friends became family, not just to him but to all of us.)
Leilah, Ruairi and Debbie have planned the first annual Tom Mooney Day party for family and friends so we can come together and celebrate his unparalleled love of life, marvel at how incredibly lucky we all are that he was a part of our lives and feel grateful for the lessons he taught us about the importance of family.
In the days that followed Tommy’s death, Leilah and Debbie shared with me a book of readings their rabbi had given them. The final reading is about finding balance after loss.
“When balance comes, the memory of our time together will once again shine.
When balance comes, the weight of our time together will be an anchor to the time ahead.
When balance comes, we will embrace tomorrow, welcome laughter, rejoice in wonder, remember with joy.
When balance comes, the glow of memory will burn brighter than this flame of loss.”
Thankfully, my family and I are moving closer to finding balance
Anyone who has sustained a brain injury knows all too well how difficult anniversaries of significant losses can be. Those of us who’ve been down that road understand that the loss we’ve suffered is one of the most painful of all – we’ve truly lost a part of ourselves. We’ve lost the person we used to be (or at least parts of that person); we’ve lost the life we used to live and the future we never will.
In fact, nearly every brain injury survivor I’ve ever met knows the exact date of his/her injury. Even those of us who have problems with memory can recite that date. That’s something we can’t seem to forget.
I too know the date my life completely changed – June 26, 1995. After several years of painful June 26’es, I decided to “take back” my anniversary. I decided that each June 26th I would spend at least part of the day doing something I couldn’t do in the early years following my brain injury. It can be simple tasks like taking a bus or going to the grocery by myself or even doing the laundry or it can be something intrinsically wonderful like hiking on difficult terrain with the help of my ever faithful service dog, Stone. Whatever it is I choose to do on June 26th, I make sure I’m mindful of how spectacular it is and how grateful I am that I can now do so much more than I could do in the evening of June 26th, 1995.
In recent years my wonderful friend Mikki has also “taken back” the anniversary of her injury. Now, each year on the anniversary of the stroke she suffered during brain surgery while in her 20's, she celebrates the day she lived. Her anniversary has become a second birthday for her and she spends time marveling at how grateful she is to be alive. Those of us who have the privilege of knowing and loving her, are equally grateful.
This year, my family and I are “taking back” the anniversary of my brother Tommy’s death. In life, Tom made the world a better place in a big way, on a grand scale and he loved his professional “calling” but, above all else, Tom loved his family. He was the center of our family – the keeper of family traditions, the teller of family tales (and true to our Irish heritage, over the years, the line between family history and blarney added for effect became a bit blurred).
His death left a hole that can never be filled and certainly Dec 3rd will always serve as a painful reminder of that loss BUT, his children, Leilah and Ruairi, and his wife Debbie, are ensuring that Dec 3rd is also a day we remember Tom as the devoted family man and friend. (Although in Tom’s case the phrase “family man and friend” is a bit redundant as his close friends became family, not just to him but to all of us.)
Leilah, Ruairi and Debbie have planned the first annual Tom Mooney Day party for family and friends so we can come together and celebrate his unparalleled love of life, marvel at how incredibly lucky we all are that he was a part of our lives and feel grateful for the lessons he taught us about the importance of family.
In the days that followed Tommy’s death, Leilah and Debbie shared with me a book of readings their rabbi had given them. The final reading is about finding balance after loss.
“When balance comes, the memory of our time together will once again shine.
When balance comes, the weight of our time together will be an anchor to the time ahead.
When balance comes, we will embrace tomorrow, welcome laughter, rejoice in wonder, remember with joy.
When balance comes, the glow of memory will burn brighter than this flame of loss.”
Thankfully, my family and I are moving closer to finding balance
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Giving Thanks
"Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life.
It turns what we have into enough, and more.
It turns denial into acceptance, chaos into order, confusion to clarity...
Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today and creates a vision for tomorrow."
-Melody Beattie.
Here's hoping for a thank-filled, gratitude inducing Thanksgiving
It turns what we have into enough, and more.
It turns denial into acceptance, chaos into order, confusion to clarity...
Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today and creates a vision for tomorrow."
-Melody Beattie.
Here's hoping for a thank-filled, gratitude inducing Thanksgiving
Friday, November 20, 2009
My Superhero Service Dog
One of the things I’m so grateful for is my brilliant and beautiful service dog, Stone. He gets to go everywhere I go, which often adds a whole new dimension to any activity.
Tuesday I had my annual colonoscopy and heck, let’s face it, there are few things that are as fun as spending a day living on Gatorade and cleansing out your colon followed by a day of being drugged while some guy sticks a large tube with a camera on the end up your “nether regions” as our grandparents might have said. :) But, at least I get to bring along my dog, which is a privilege few people can enjoy.
Not only is he great at distracting me from the stress at hand, my nurse is always extra attentive. In fact, every nurse on the floor is attentive, stopping by to see if I need anything and “oh while I’m here could you tell me about your dog.” While I know there is a nursing shortage, I’d never know it by the care I get whenever I’m in a hospital. Thanks Stone.
Just when I think Stone couldn’t amaze me more than he already has, on Tuesday at Christ Hospital, he amazed me yet again. While I was in the recovery room, the nurses brought a woman in to the bed next to mine. Our beds were separated by only a curtain. When her breathing became labored. Stone sat up, looked at me, then looked toward the woman’s bed. Next, he stood up and stuck his snoot under the curtain and then looked back at me, clearly distressed. Next, he looked at the nurses and was motioning his head toward the woman’s bed. He looked back and forth from the nurses to the woman until finally one of the nurses said “Look the dog is trying to tell us there’s something wrong.”
Now here’s the part that was kind of funny and kind of scary. Once the nurses figured out that yes, the woman’s breathing was labored, they tried to arouse her and couldn’t. By now, all of the nurses on the floor were there, but what they were talking about was how beautiful Stone was and how amazing it was that he’d alerted them, as opposed to talking about what to do about the unarrousable woman who’s breathing was labored.
I wonder if Lassie had these problems when Timmy fell down the well.
During my last colonoscopy, Stone provided some great comic relief. He was laying on the floor next to my bed in the recovery room. Apparently his tail was sticking under the curtain. A doctor came by to talk with the patient in the next bed and the patient interrupted him saying “dog’s tail”. The doctor, who clearly thought his patient was confused said “You’ve still got a lot of anesthesia in you, but we’re in the hospital and your procedure’s over.” Again the patient said “dog’s tail”. The Doctor said “I know you’re a vet, but you’re not at work today, you’re in the hospital.” This exchange went on for several moments until finally the doctor called over the nurse and said “he’s still really out of it. Call me when he’s more coherent.” With that, the doctor turned to leave, tripped over Stone’s tail and yelled “SHIT – there IS a dog’s tail.”
So, today I’m grateful that everywhere I go so goes my dog’s tail.
Tuesday I had my annual colonoscopy and heck, let’s face it, there are few things that are as fun as spending a day living on Gatorade and cleansing out your colon followed by a day of being drugged while some guy sticks a large tube with a camera on the end up your “nether regions” as our grandparents might have said. :) But, at least I get to bring along my dog, which is a privilege few people can enjoy.
Not only is he great at distracting me from the stress at hand, my nurse is always extra attentive. In fact, every nurse on the floor is attentive, stopping by to see if I need anything and “oh while I’m here could you tell me about your dog.” While I know there is a nursing shortage, I’d never know it by the care I get whenever I’m in a hospital. Thanks Stone.
Just when I think Stone couldn’t amaze me more than he already has, on Tuesday at Christ Hospital, he amazed me yet again. While I was in the recovery room, the nurses brought a woman in to the bed next to mine. Our beds were separated by only a curtain. When her breathing became labored. Stone sat up, looked at me, then looked toward the woman’s bed. Next, he stood up and stuck his snoot under the curtain and then looked back at me, clearly distressed. Next, he looked at the nurses and was motioning his head toward the woman’s bed. He looked back and forth from the nurses to the woman until finally one of the nurses said “Look the dog is trying to tell us there’s something wrong.”
Now here’s the part that was kind of funny and kind of scary. Once the nurses figured out that yes, the woman’s breathing was labored, they tried to arouse her and couldn’t. By now, all of the nurses on the floor were there, but what they were talking about was how beautiful Stone was and how amazing it was that he’d alerted them, as opposed to talking about what to do about the unarrousable woman who’s breathing was labored.
I wonder if Lassie had these problems when Timmy fell down the well.
During my last colonoscopy, Stone provided some great comic relief. He was laying on the floor next to my bed in the recovery room. Apparently his tail was sticking under the curtain. A doctor came by to talk with the patient in the next bed and the patient interrupted him saying “dog’s tail”. The doctor, who clearly thought his patient was confused said “You’ve still got a lot of anesthesia in you, but we’re in the hospital and your procedure’s over.” Again the patient said “dog’s tail”. The Doctor said “I know you’re a vet, but you’re not at work today, you’re in the hospital.” This exchange went on for several moments until finally the doctor called over the nurse and said “he’s still really out of it. Call me when he’s more coherent.” With that, the doctor turned to leave, tripped over Stone’s tail and yelled “SHIT – there IS a dog’s tail.”
So, today I’m grateful that everywhere I go so goes my dog’s tail.
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