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 positive psychology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label positive psychology. 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.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
As a Matter of Fact it is a Laughing Matter
Recently I got an email from a dear old-new friend. In it, she told me about all the life challenges she’s currently facing. It was a long list of serious problems, so long in fact, it would have been more than understandable if most days, she stayed in bed with the covers pulled over her head.
But she doesn’t. Instead, she gets up every day and goes to work in a human service organization where she strives to improve the quality of people’s lives. Her email was honest and painful and poignant and funny. She commented on the latter noting “Well at least I still have my sense of humor.”
I would venture to say that her gift for laughter plays an important role in her ability to get up every day and make the world a better place. This realization confirmed what I had already felt . My friend and I resonate on the same frequency.
Those of you who know me, know that laughter is a key component of my strategy for dealing with the too often unavoidable painful realities in life. In a motivational speech I give entitled “Building a Life You Like Even When It’s Not the One You Wanted”, I talk about the importance of humor.
If you’ve ever taken Psychology 101 you may remember that there are a number of Schools Of Thought within psychology, Psychoanalytical, Behavioral and Cognitive, to name a few. Each provides a framework through which we are suppose to see our world, our fellow humans and ourselves.
In the past 15 post brain injury years, I’ve developed my own School of Thought. I’ve kept it simple; I do have a brain injury ya know. :) I call mine the Bumper Sticker Approach to Life. One of the cornerstones of my framework, one of my favorite bumper stickers is Find the Funny.
Finding the humorous anicdote in life's most embarrasing moments can completely eliminate their ability to shame us.
I have to confess that when it comes to this particular principle of my philosophy, I have a distinct tactical advantage. First, I come from a long line of Irish story tellers who have refined sarcasm to an art form, so I have both nature and nurture on my side. Plus, when you have a brain injury and when everywhere you go you bring a large dog, (and I do mean everywhere), if you are looking the “right” way, funny stuff happens to you all the time.
For example, there was the time at the grocery when an older woman in a very, very short skirt was choosing apples to buy. As Stone and I walked past, she leaned in, reaching for the apples in the back of the bin and my sweet, innocent, brilliant, well trained, impeccably behaved service dog stuck his snoot right up her skirt
She was not amused. Clearly, the rest of us sure were.
Public restrooms are a routine source of laughter for me. There’s nothing quite like the reaction of a woman who’s using the restroom when a large dog snoot suddenly appears poking in from the stall next to hers. Heck, he’s just trying to be friendly.
The deficits form my brain injury are often a great source of amusement for me. Frequently, I have “word finding” problems. Sometimes I draw a blank and stumble and stutter ‘till the word I’m seeking finally comes to mind. But sometimes, while I’m talking, without my even realizing my brain couldn’t come up with the word I intended to say, the completely wrong word comes out of my mouth. Often, I don’t notice I’ve said the wrong word, no matter how non-sensical my sentence has become because of it.
This vocabulary mix-up is a very common symptom for people with brain injuries. When it happens to me, most of the time, the word that comes out of my mouth sounds similar to the word I meant to say, even when their meanings aren’t remotely the same. So, for example, if I meant to say “hat” I might instead say “bat”, then I’d just go right on talking without noticing my mistake. As you might imagine, this deficit can lead to some pretty entertaining conversations.
There was the time a few years ago when I was talking with a small group of acquaintances about the advice an Arborist had given us to ensure our old growth trees survived the summer of draught. It’s important to note here that these were only acquaintances, not friends. By now, many of my friends are quite used to helping me find the funny in my vocabulary mistakes. I was talking for probably several minutes about what the tree specialist had told us, when it occurred to me that no one else was participating in the conversation. I looked around and saw that every single one of them stood in stunned silence looking at me, jaws hanging open. One woman had gone quite pale. A brave gentleman cleared his throat uncomfortably and then asked “You had an abortionist come to your house to look at your trees?”
OOPS!
Reading is often another source of amusement at my house. Since my injury, when I’m reading, my eyes and brain are often out of synch. My eyes move faster than my brain can read. To compensate, my brain will often read the first part of a word and in it’s struggle to keep pace with my eyes, it then makes an educated guess about what the rest of the word is. Basically, without my even being aware, my brain simply makes stuff up. Typically, when I get to the end of the paragraph I realize something does not compute. As I write this, I’m suddenly seeing visions of Lucy and Ethel trying to keep pace with the assembly line conveyer belt at the candy factory. In either case, laughter ensues.
Just last week I was reading an email from a Rehabilitation on-line discussion group/ list-serve to which I subscribe. Rehab. Psychologists use the group to seek advice and share resources and expertise. A group member sent an email requesting recommendations for treatment strategies when working with a client with Capgras Syndrome, a serious and rare disorder in which an individual believes his spouse has been replaced by an identical imposter. I read the opening sentence of the email and this time it took me only seconds to realize something definitely did not compute. I stopped mid sentence and asked myself out loud “When on earth did Crap-Gas become a psychiatric disorder?”
When I realized my mistake I have to admit I wished there were a 12 year old boy in the house who would fully appreciate the humor.
But, my all time favorite opportunity to find the funny, occurred a few years ago at a health club. I was recovering from a stress fracture in my leg. (It turns out if your brain doesn’t have complete control over one of your legs, jogging isn’t a good idea. Who knew?) I decided swimming would be great exercise while I was recuperating. Since my brain injury, I hadn’t been in a pool except with a Physical Therapist and I hadn’t even done that since the first two years after my accident. Even with a Therapist by my side, the experience was… well… let’s just say challenging.
As Stone and I rode the bus to the health club, I began to get nervous, wondering if perhaps this time my eyes really were too big for my stomach, figuratively speaking of course. I assured myself I would be fine, after all the pool had a lifeguard. The battle between my nervous self and my I can do this self lasted the entire ride. In the end, the knowledge a lifeguard would be there if I had a problem, convinced me to ignore my nervous inner voice who wanted to delay my swimming debut until someone could go with me to the pool.
Naturally, when I got to the pool the first thing I looked for was the lifeguard. He was there all right, but not only did he look as if he were nearly 70 years old, he was asleep. I was, shall we say, somewhat discombobulated.
I was so stunned in fact, I didn’t notice the sign outside the locker room door I entered. I wish I had, because it said “Men’s ”. (Yes, as a matter of fact, the word “Oops” is a regular part of my daily life.) I walked in past the unnoticed sign, turned the corner and right in front of my eyes was an 82 year old gentleman sitting naked in the hot tub. We were both surprised.
I mumbled a hurried apology and quickly made my escape. Can you imagine the conversation that poor man had when he got home? “You’re telling me a woman and a dog walked in on you when you were naked in the locker room. Henry, you promised you’d stop drinking during the day.”
Yes, my life is rich with opportunities to find the funny, happily so.
And so, my dear friend who’s email inspired this entry, my wish for you is that you continue to laugh when you can and cry when you have to. Please know, I will be right here handing you virtual Kleenex whether your tears are from laughter or pain.
But she doesn’t. Instead, she gets up every day and goes to work in a human service organization where she strives to improve the quality of people’s lives. Her email was honest and painful and poignant and funny. She commented on the latter noting “Well at least I still have my sense of humor.”
I would venture to say that her gift for laughter plays an important role in her ability to get up every day and make the world a better place. This realization confirmed what I had already felt . My friend and I resonate on the same frequency.
Those of you who know me, know that laughter is a key component of my strategy for dealing with the too often unavoidable painful realities in life. In a motivational speech I give entitled “Building a Life You Like Even When It’s Not the One You Wanted”, I talk about the importance of humor.
If you’ve ever taken Psychology 101 you may remember that there are a number of Schools Of Thought within psychology, Psychoanalytical, Behavioral and Cognitive, to name a few. Each provides a framework through which we are suppose to see our world, our fellow humans and ourselves.
In the past 15 post brain injury years, I’ve developed my own School of Thought. I’ve kept it simple; I do have a brain injury ya know. :) I call mine the Bumper Sticker Approach to Life. One of the cornerstones of my framework, one of my favorite bumper stickers is Find the Funny.
Finding the humorous anicdote in life's most embarrasing moments can completely eliminate their ability to shame us.
I have to confess that when it comes to this particular principle of my philosophy, I have a distinct tactical advantage. First, I come from a long line of Irish story tellers who have refined sarcasm to an art form, so I have both nature and nurture on my side. Plus, when you have a brain injury and when everywhere you go you bring a large dog, (and I do mean everywhere), if you are looking the “right” way, funny stuff happens to you all the time.
For example, there was the time at the grocery when an older woman in a very, very short skirt was choosing apples to buy. As Stone and I walked past, she leaned in, reaching for the apples in the back of the bin and my sweet, innocent, brilliant, well trained, impeccably behaved service dog stuck his snoot right up her skirt
She was not amused. Clearly, the rest of us sure were.
Public restrooms are a routine source of laughter for me. There’s nothing quite like the reaction of a woman who’s using the restroom when a large dog snoot suddenly appears poking in from the stall next to hers. Heck, he’s just trying to be friendly.
The deficits form my brain injury are often a great source of amusement for me. Frequently, I have “word finding” problems. Sometimes I draw a blank and stumble and stutter ‘till the word I’m seeking finally comes to mind. But sometimes, while I’m talking, without my even realizing my brain couldn’t come up with the word I intended to say, the completely wrong word comes out of my mouth. Often, I don’t notice I’ve said the wrong word, no matter how non-sensical my sentence has become because of it.
This vocabulary mix-up is a very common symptom for people with brain injuries. When it happens to me, most of the time, the word that comes out of my mouth sounds similar to the word I meant to say, even when their meanings aren’t remotely the same. So, for example, if I meant to say “hat” I might instead say “bat”, then I’d just go right on talking without noticing my mistake. As you might imagine, this deficit can lead to some pretty entertaining conversations.
There was the time a few years ago when I was talking with a small group of acquaintances about the advice an Arborist had given us to ensure our old growth trees survived the summer of draught. It’s important to note here that these were only acquaintances, not friends. By now, many of my friends are quite used to helping me find the funny in my vocabulary mistakes. I was talking for probably several minutes about what the tree specialist had told us, when it occurred to me that no one else was participating in the conversation. I looked around and saw that every single one of them stood in stunned silence looking at me, jaws hanging open. One woman had gone quite pale. A brave gentleman cleared his throat uncomfortably and then asked “You had an abortionist come to your house to look at your trees?”
OOPS!
Reading is often another source of amusement at my house. Since my injury, when I’m reading, my eyes and brain are often out of synch. My eyes move faster than my brain can read. To compensate, my brain will often read the first part of a word and in it’s struggle to keep pace with my eyes, it then makes an educated guess about what the rest of the word is. Basically, without my even being aware, my brain simply makes stuff up. Typically, when I get to the end of the paragraph I realize something does not compute. As I write this, I’m suddenly seeing visions of Lucy and Ethel trying to keep pace with the assembly line conveyer belt at the candy factory. In either case, laughter ensues.
Just last week I was reading an email from a Rehabilitation on-line discussion group/ list-serve to which I subscribe. Rehab. Psychologists use the group to seek advice and share resources and expertise. A group member sent an email requesting recommendations for treatment strategies when working with a client with Capgras Syndrome, a serious and rare disorder in which an individual believes his spouse has been replaced by an identical imposter. I read the opening sentence of the email and this time it took me only seconds to realize something definitely did not compute. I stopped mid sentence and asked myself out loud “When on earth did Crap-Gas become a psychiatric disorder?”
When I realized my mistake I have to admit I wished there were a 12 year old boy in the house who would fully appreciate the humor.
But, my all time favorite opportunity to find the funny, occurred a few years ago at a health club. I was recovering from a stress fracture in my leg. (It turns out if your brain doesn’t have complete control over one of your legs, jogging isn’t a good idea. Who knew?) I decided swimming would be great exercise while I was recuperating. Since my brain injury, I hadn’t been in a pool except with a Physical Therapist and I hadn’t even done that since the first two years after my accident. Even with a Therapist by my side, the experience was… well… let’s just say challenging.
As Stone and I rode the bus to the health club, I began to get nervous, wondering if perhaps this time my eyes really were too big for my stomach, figuratively speaking of course. I assured myself I would be fine, after all the pool had a lifeguard. The battle between my nervous self and my I can do this self lasted the entire ride. In the end, the knowledge a lifeguard would be there if I had a problem, convinced me to ignore my nervous inner voice who wanted to delay my swimming debut until someone could go with me to the pool.
Naturally, when I got to the pool the first thing I looked for was the lifeguard. He was there all right, but not only did he look as if he were nearly 70 years old, he was asleep. I was, shall we say, somewhat discombobulated.
I was so stunned in fact, I didn’t notice the sign outside the locker room door I entered. I wish I had, because it said “Men’s ”. (Yes, as a matter of fact, the word “Oops” is a regular part of my daily life.) I walked in past the unnoticed sign, turned the corner and right in front of my eyes was an 82 year old gentleman sitting naked in the hot tub. We were both surprised.
I mumbled a hurried apology and quickly made my escape. Can you imagine the conversation that poor man had when he got home? “You’re telling me a woman and a dog walked in on you when you were naked in the locker room. Henry, you promised you’d stop drinking during the day.”
Yes, my life is rich with opportunities to find the funny, happily so.
And so, my dear friend who’s email inspired this entry, my wish for you is that you continue to laugh when you can and cry when you have to. Please know, I will be right here handing you virtual Kleenex whether your tears are from laughter or pain.
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