Once again, Casey the Wonder Dog

Took our old buddy to the vet today for his hips. He's been having more and more trouble getting up and down the stairs, shifting from one side to the other when lying down, etc. It takes him a bit of maneuvering to stand up or lie down, and he's been increasingly subdued and even surly lately. Clearly the over-the-counter doggie aspirins weren't doing it for him anymore.

Since he's been a reasonably inexpensive companion over the years—no major health problems, excepting a broken nose and a few stitches after a coyote chomped him once (quick on his feet back then, Casey managed to escape further chomping)—I decided to spring for the x-rays to see just what the poor guy is dealing with. Wow! As the vet herself said, I don't know how he's as spry as he is given the amount of calcification on his hip joints! Lots of lumpy bumpy nastiness that would have completely crippled a lesser dog. (The x-ray shown is not Casey's—just one I found on the internet—Casey's was much worse.) And he was his usual jovial self while getting all the tests done, charming all the tech staff and making new friends right and left. You'd never know he ought to be in a doggie wheelchair!

Anyway, he's now on prescription anti-inflammatories/pain relievers and glucosamine. The rest of his bones and joints were clear of any arthritis or other problems, and he passed the blood tests with flying colors. So once the drugs kick in, he should be back to his hoppity-hooper self. For a guy in his 80s, he's doing damn fine! What a great dog, in every possible way.

The Eighth Stage of Grief

It's time to add an eighth stage to the classic 7 Stages of Grief as they stand now:

1. SHOCK & DENIAL
2. PAIN & GUILT
3. ANGER & BARGAINING
4. "DEPRESSION", REFLECTION, LONELINESS
5. THE UPWARD TURN
6. RECONSTRUCTION & WORKING THROUGH
7. ACCEPTANCE & HOPE

Somewhere around 3.5, maybe:

3.5. DELETING EMAIL CONTACT

I've experienced this stage before with other deaths of friends and loved ones, but this morning it struck me with new and potent force when I realized my mother's address was still on my email contact and chat lists. I almost chose the option to simply "Hide" her because it felt impossibly painful to delete her. To have to click on "Delete"—erase, cancel, remove from existence—is such a stab in the heart. This person is really and truly gone. I can "hide" from that fact, if I want, but I've never been one to hide from reality. Might as well face it—hiding from it doesn't change what is. And Mom is gone. No more emails, no more internet chats with her.

Mom was always frustrating to chat with on the internet because she had an antediluvian dial-up connection that gave her responses a serious time lag effect. It was especially difficult in 3- or 4-way chats with my sisters and Mom, where my sisters and I would already be 3 laps around the conversational track when Mom finally got a comment through. One-on-one chats with her weren't much better: I'd type my comment, send it, then go do something else while waiting for her reply to come back. Conversationus Interruptus.

But however unsatisfying those conversations may have been, they were still contact. Connection, dial-up or otherwise. To actively delete her from my contact list, to face the absolute lack of her in my internet life—in life. period.—split open my heart and brought a gush of new grief to the surface. It is a definite step in the process of grieving. I haven't erased her from my phone directories yet. That comes next. Step 3.75.

Expanding my palette

We had a break in the rain today, so I spent all morning and most of the afternoon outside doing yard work, taking photos, and just hanging out with the dog. While loitering on the deck, I happened to notice the new growth on the tips of the willow tree—an arresting peachy pink color that looks so pretty next to that leafy green I decided I need to use those two colors together in something sometime soon. I've never liked pink or green. So putting the two together is quite a reach for me! It always reminds me of childhood shopping trips where Mom would persistently pick out pink and green plaid skirts and pants for me, and I would relentlessly retch and refuse to even try them on. And now I'm liking pink and green together?!? I must be getting old.