As always, on the target. I'd write a follow-up but he's way ahead of me here and I can't say it any better.
Marc:
http://www.wheelchairkamikaze.com/2010/10/comprehensive-roundup-of-ccsvi-info.html
A blog about living with MS. Why Mad Sow? In homage to Denny Crane, on the TV program Boston Legal. Every time he forgot something, he'd point to his head and say "Mad Cow." I refer to my MS, primarily a cognitive thing at present, as my Mad Sow.
October 30, 2010
October 5, 2010
Hope vs. despair
I've decided to get a puppy. My family members probably think I'm mad. After all, I had a perfectly wonderful dog, Dudley the magnificent (in the photo) who I loved to bits, and I sent him away to live with another family shortly after my diagnosis. The thing was, I was fully prepared to be crippled and in a wheelchair after a year and didn't want to subject a poor wee doggums to the boring life that would mean. Dudley went off to a family of five, with three cheerful little girls who promptly dressed him up in doll dresses and hats and who he went to happily, used to the pell mell of a herd of Bichons in his parental home. My quiet little place must've bored the poor fellow, so I'm glad he's put his paws down in a place where he will be loved to excess. (and which has a fenced yard!)
I have cycled through pets, looking for companionship in a container I could manage. I have my ferocious parrotlet, Dora, who tries to run my life and who lives a very spoiled existence indeed. She's sweet and bossy and prefers me to any other landing surface which is adorable. But she's not quite enough.
This puppy is a vote of confidence - in me, in my ability to deal with this disease, in my ability to live alone and succeed at it. He's sweet and roly poly and all that, but his genes are smart, and I know if I work at it I can train him to be a great companion animal. He will make me walk even when I don't really feel like it, he will make me laugh also. I need this, more than I can admit. Living alone with an unpredictable chronic disease is lonely at times. It's not that I want a person around, though, necessarily, though I like that. Sometimes I just need a mute companion who will live and breathe around me and care for me.
I do hate the unpredictableness of this disease and wonder about taking on a new responsibility - but then I have hope that the progress will be slow, that I will have time to truly enjoy my new little buddy, exploring new places through dog's eyes. I have hope.
I have cycled through pets, looking for companionship in a container I could manage. I have my ferocious parrotlet, Dora, who tries to run my life and who lives a very spoiled existence indeed. She's sweet and bossy and prefers me to any other landing surface which is adorable. But she's not quite enough.
This puppy is a vote of confidence - in me, in my ability to deal with this disease, in my ability to live alone and succeed at it. He's sweet and roly poly and all that, but his genes are smart, and I know if I work at it I can train him to be a great companion animal. He will make me walk even when I don't really feel like it, he will make me laugh also. I need this, more than I can admit. Living alone with an unpredictable chronic disease is lonely at times. It's not that I want a person around, though, necessarily, though I like that. Sometimes I just need a mute companion who will live and breathe around me and care for me.
I do hate the unpredictableness of this disease and wonder about taking on a new responsibility - but then I have hope that the progress will be slow, that I will have time to truly enjoy my new little buddy, exploring new places through dog's eyes. I have hope.
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