My Daughter's Birthday

It is a good thing I am taking photos because the days are starting to blend together. We are on San Juan Island time, and it’s hard to keep track of what day and what time it is. It has been healing to be here. Sadly this will be our last day, and it is a rainy one. Those of us who remain (my daughter, her bff, and I) plan to make the most of it.


Yesterday the weather was the complete opposite. It was sunny and beautiful. We wanted to take advantage of the lovely weather, so we took a ferry to Orcas Island! My oldest nephew took his bicycle and rode over to East Sound. I was impressed that he did it so fast, and we hooked up perfectly. The ladies wanted a shopping trip, and lunch with a view, and got both. There were so many dogs (I only saw one scary one – and a pit bull puppy). I said I thought the puppy had no place in this world, but I guess it’s a free country.

We ate at… wait for it… the Madrona Bar & Grill – not exactly like the one in Roche Harbor but it had a wonderful view. The food was delicious. We all marvel at how we seem to always locate a restaurant on the water that is really similar to the Crow’s Nest in Santa Cruz. In the end, it was likely that predictability in us that made it so easy to hook up with my cyclist nephew. We had a lovely waitress named Mai.

With what time we had left to catch the ferry back to Friday Harbor we decided to go to Mountain Lake in Moran Park. We decided that it would be fun to camp there with the whole family someday. My husband would have loved to bar-be-cue at this spot. This place was so magical that I believe it is the same place on one of my meditation tapes. I plan to write the publisher about this to see if I am correct.

Mountain Lake, Orcas Island

More Thoughts From San Juan Island

I woke up feeling poorly, but I was happier when I saw a message from my husband in my inbox. My daughter asked if there was an update from my mom and dad (extreme family drama), but there wasn't. It breaks my heart that they are so focused on dividing the family because it takes away from the support that I need. My sister is also not getting the support she needs because she's not being helped to moved on, she's being urged to fight. I'm more disappointed than ever about them. Now that I've had time to think about it, it sounds ludicrous for anyone to say that a family member of ours needs help - and that family member is not me.

I had a bad dream about going back to work last night. I dreamed there was a fire drill and I freaked out. I was in my classroom and it was all different. Everyone I talked with made me cry, even though I could tell they were trying hard not to make me cry. Colleagues kept coming into my classroom to talk to me, and then they'd leave because I would cry. I miss so many of them. I also had a flashback this morning. I can't even remember what triggered it. The good thing is that it was more painful than frightening, but the bad thing is that I had it in the first place.

Yesterday I saw a mini-schnauzer puppy at the Lavender Farm. It made me think that might be a good thing for me to try to move towards - getting a puppy, especially if I don't go back to work right away. Then I started thinking about how I would do that, and naturally, I thought about going to a shelter. Then I realized that it would be too scary to go into a shelter, and if I can't do that, maybe I'm not ready. Then I thought I have a good reason to get a mini-schnauzer from a breeder. Still not ready, but it's a thought, and not a scary one.

Later that evening we had dinner at a place in Roche Harbor called Madrona Bar & Grill. It was in celebration of my daughter's twenty-second birthday. She seemed to have a great time, but it was bitter sweet without the rest of the family. I was grateful that my brother's family celebrated with us. They have been such a support for me. I will never forget their kindness and generosity. The sunset was beautiful.

We also watched the patriotic flag ceremony while we were in Roche Harbor. There was a wedding outside in the garden and the wedding party came out to watch too. The bride wore a white dress with a blue sash. My daughter was inspired to wear the same thing, but perhaps with a purple or lavender sash. Here is her best friend, who will likely be her MOH - fun to figure out.

Hardy's Mom and the Crab Fisherman

The Restaurant at Sunset

It’s Becoming Evident

I am making the decision while I’m here (and shortly after I return) about whether I will take a leave of absence from work, or not. Yesterday was an interesting experiment going to the Crab House and socializing with the couples that were sitting nearby. I realized today that I was not really alone - the whole time. The people who I interacted with changed, but I was never alone.

I had originally thought I would go for a shopping expedition around the town, but I didn’t. I stayed put. When I went for a walk in the forest with my daughter and nephew this morning, and tried to pin point the reason why I stayed put. In the quiet of the forest, I began to consider that I might have remained there because I just couldn’t bring myself to go out alone. I didn’t want to risk ruining Friday Harbor. Then I began to contemplate about my job.

So I am trying to be realistic about going back to work. The students need their teacher, and I still don’t know if I’m ready to go back. I feel like I am not the same person I once was. I feel like I’m still not brave, nor confident, nor capable of taking care of myself. How can I be responsible, let alone educate, twenty-five students? How do I carry out the safety drills without freaking out? How do I deal with the stress of the job that does not involve teaching or caring for students? I don’t know the answers to any of these. I need to make a decision, and I’m inclined towards the leave of absence.

Today was not a disaster, but I had another scary dog encounter. We were down at the harbor, when my youngest nephew was setting his crab trap. My family members helped me to flee from the beast, but not without anxiety. I didn’t have a panic attack, but I think I would have - had I not left the area to the safety of an indoor U.S. Customs Office. I felt safe inside, and I watched from a window, as dog and owner walked far away in a different direction. What if that happens at work?

Sea Anemone on the side of the dock at Friday Harbor

Today, I Simply Miss Him

Hardy LOVED Friday Harbor. He also loved going on road trips, but that’s another story. Going to Friday Harbor is one huge road trip. It takes two full days to drive there from my home in the Bay Area. It’s on San Juan Island, a short ferry trip from Anacortes, Washington. My brother owns a geodesic dome on a rustic piece of property that is frequented by deer practically every day. I went there to get some rest and relaxation, and also to celebrate my daughter’s twenty-second birthday.

I love it here, but I really miss Hardy. I’ve only been here once before – last summer. I remember the most wonderful thing about the place was our visit to Lime Kiln Park where we observed wild Orcas swimming passed in a flurry. It was magical, and moved me beyond tears. Hardy had to wait in the car, but if he was outside, he wouldn’t have noticed. He seemed only interested in the deer.

I have a photograph from last year that is still my desktop image. I know I will change it someday, but I’m still not ready. I think when I do, it will be a picture of my family and me standing at Kylemore Abbey from this summer’s trip to London, Athenry, and New York. The beautiful thing about the current desktop image is that my whole family is in it, and Hardy is sitting next to me. His ears are at attention, and his eyes are scanning the distance for a deer off in the distance.

Last year, as we were vacationing, he took off running from the front door - chasing after something. It was like nothing I’d seen since he was a puppy, but last year, he was nine, so it was a little out of the ordinary. I laughed as I watched him run after, what? It was probably a deer, but whatever it was Hardy’s chasing it was futile. There was no way he would catch anything. He just enjoyed the chase. It was cute, endearing, and completely lovable.

So today, as I sat on the rim at Friday’s Crab House, I simply missed him. I saw him everywhere. I saw images of him embedded in too many clouds to count. I saw his sweet personality in the wire haired fox terrier that was walking off a ferry with its owner. I saw him in the sunset, and I felt him patiently sitting by my side. It wasn’t fear, or pain, or sadness I felt. No. I simply longed for him to be with me. I just wanted to see him again, and I wanted to share this lovely island with him.

He loved it here like I love it here. It’s an escape to be sure, but it’s a quiet retreat back to nature that relaxes the soul. It’s a type of retreat, and I feel very close to God – and Hardy.

Harsh Treatment Causes Anxiety

I had a session with my psychologist yesterday, and together we agreed that I was not ready to go back to work when scheduled. He pushed the date from the seventh to the fifteenth. After I left his office, I was enthusiastic about the prospect of going back to work. But after about twenty-four hours of reflection, I’m still feeling like I can’t confidently make it through the day on my own. I’m concerned about something triggering a panic attack, and I don’t feel like I can take care of myself, let alone a group of twenty-five students. Then there is the everyday stress that comes with being an educator.

I sent my boss an email about how my return date had changed, and I outlined my plan for coming back to work. That was stressful enough, but then I needed to check some of the twenty to thirty emails in my inbox too. Unfortunately, I have not been as diligent returning messages as in the past. I was thinking my sub would be fielding questions, and then sending me the most important news. Apparently, I had made the wrong assumption.

In going through the messages, one of my team members wrote, “If you don’t respond to my email, I’m going to assume you are not interested in attending the field trip with the rest of the team.” Ouch. I didn’t even know what she was talking about, and I wondered why the decision was so difficult to make without my go ahead. It made me feel extreme anxiety, and now I’m questioning whether I am ready to go back to work. I didn’t take the anxiety medication, because there was a chance I would need to drive a car, and it’s clearly marked on the bottle not to drive after taking one.

I wrote back my team member, but I’ve not been able to think about much else. It makes me wonder how I will be able to deal with the simple day in and day out stressors of the job. I won’t be able to work very well, if I cave at the slightest bit of conflict or intimidation.

Up until now, all I’ve been worried about was if I would see a scary dog directly prior to picking up the students in the class line. If that should happen, I don’t think I could cope. Since the dog attack, I’ve only done about two or three errands alone. I’ve also driven a car, alone, only a handful of times. I’m great behind a computer. I’ve been emailing and blogging, but I’m really not all alone for that. There are usually one to three people in the midst, or the television is on, or I’m dog-sitting Chico.

I guess when I am truly honest about my ability to work, I know it’s not time. I feel a lot better, to be sure, but not one hundred percent of the time, and not all alone. I did comment to my psychologist yesterday that I was so grateful for their work towards pulling me out of that dark, scary place in my consciousness where I seemed to live over half of my days, and almost all of my nights

Sleep Problems

Sleep has become the challenge of late. Ever since my cousin, Bill, came to visit, it’s been a problem (August 11th). I am continually being awakened by sounds that go bump in the night. Sometimes I know it is an animal, as in a skunk scurrying around outside (I could smell the little rodent). Sometimes it’s just the house going creak. But it is now to the point where I think someone is messing with my mind. It happens every night.

Last night was no different, except when I was awakened from what sounded like whistling for a dog (could have been the neighbor at 3 a.m.). I had more trouble getting back to sleep. I am back to the sleepless nights I was having before I started taking Estroven for night sweats and hot flashes. Last summer I was literally breaking out in heat rashes from that problem. The Estroven has black cohosh in it, and ever since I began taking it I haven’t had those problems.

Now the sleep problems are back at full tilt. Most times it’s because I have worked myself into a fearful tizzy. I actually believe someone in the house is in some sort of danger (usually me). Sometimes it gets so bad that I simply give up and go watch some television – boring television, so I will become drowsy.

Sometimes I fight the urge to get up, successfully distracted in positive prayers for the world, and I fall back asleep. I think about the studies that have been done in sleep labs, and I know that most people who complain about not sleeping actually get more than five hours of sleep throughout the night (when they report they don’t get any). It’s another comforting thought that can sometimes convince me that I am over exaggerating my insomnia.

The worst nights I feel paranoid about something dangerous happening. On those nights I’ve been awakened by a bad dream. Sometimes I can remember the dream, and sometimes I can’t. The bad ones usually have me waking up in a fearful state, kind of catching my breath. Most often I find myself sitting bolt upright, yet I don’t know why. I truly can’t remember my dream; I’m only relieved to be awake. I see these weird kaleidoscope type images when my eyes are closed - until I’m fully conscious. They are a lot like a migraine aura, but not as colorful and they don’t hinder my vision in any way. When I open my eyes the images are gone. I’m also wide-awake.

It has been almost two and a half months since the dog attack. I’m still not better. I still despair over the loss of Hardy and agonize over the choices I made that day. I still wish I had done just one more thing differently. The path to healing has taken many curves through hills and valleys, through darkness, fog, and light. I know I’m not there yet, but I can feel that I have made some movement in the correct direction. If I could only sleep regularly, I’m sure it would make processing each day with my new eyes much more consistent and endurable.

Photo of Hardy in Omak Last Year

Hardy and Family on my father-in-law's deck in Omak during sunset.

I Missed my Father-in-law’s Eightieth Birthday Party

My husband and my son have been out of town for the past week. It was my father-in-law’s eightieth birthday party last Saturday. His actual birthday is on the eleventh (the same day as my brother’s), but they wanted to have a big party for him, so they planned the party for Saturday the twentieth.

I feel so badly about missing that party. I love my father-in-law a lot. He has always been there for me, and I’ve appreciated his support throughout the years. I’ve always felt a special kinship with him too. It’s not a problem when he comes to visit, in fact, we enjoy it. But that’s only one of the reasons I feel disappointed for missing his party.

Last summer was the time the party was mentioned for the first time. This was to be a summer of graduations and special birthday parties – but my father-in-law’s eightieth was spoken about as far back as a year ago at my niece’s wedding. Back then; there had been a lot of talk among my husband’s family members about the best date for the party. A few dates were tossed around, but in the end, they chose the date that would fit best for my schedule. After all, we were the ones traveling from farthest away, and the school calendar was predictable, or so I thought.

So last August, I said I thought any date before the twenty-fifth would probably work for me. Everyone settled on the twentieth. It was a Friday, but we all didn’t think my first day back to school would be that early in the summer. As it turned out, the first day back to school for teachers was… wait for it: the twentieth. It could have been an omen. Here we thought we had selected a great date, and it was almost the worst day possible. After a LOT of deliberation, we all came together and changed the date to Saturday, August 21st  – just so I could attend.

Then on my first day of vacation the dog attack happened. Unbelievable. This time my immediate family deliberated, and we decided that my daughter and I would not go to the party as planned. After all of our juggling, it was simply too much for me. Not just the travel aspect, but the social aspect too. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around talking to everyone without tears and downer conversation. Not to mention, Hardy wouldn’t be there. Everyone understood, but it still stung.

My husband and my son wrote me every day while they were away, and we spoke on the telephone numerous times. It sounded like a great trip, complete with a lovely excursion to Lake Chelan – a place I’ve always wanted to visit. I feel like I really missed out on this one. Not that I would have been much fun, but this was my father-in-law’s eightieth birthday party. How do you get that time back?

The Potential for a Walk

There were many things I used to enjoy when I was alone. Alone? Not really. Hardy was always there by my side. I can remember times before Hardy (BH) when I enjoyed things like meditation, cooking, gardening, cycling (both bi and motor), reading, writing, watching a movie or a rerun of The West Wing, and of course walking. All of those things I can still do today, not that I feel much motivation to do so, but I’m able – all except for walking.

I try to fit in a bit of exercise every day. Even if I only do floor exercises indoors, I try to get in a little something. My doctor said it would help bring up my mood (endorphins) if I did it in the morning, so that’s my goal. I don’t always succeed, but I try. With Hardy it was easy. There was always the opportunity for a walk looming out in the future. Now I can’t go walking – and I won’t even try.

Hardy was so cute when we went for a walk. He was a typical Schnauzer, very obedient and well mannered, but he just had to linger, for the scent of things. After he learned how to walk exceptionally well on a lead, I ended up getting a flexi-leash, because… well, because… Hardy was a Schnauzer.

Ultimately I knew he wanted to do what he was bred to do: smell stuff. In the end, he had the skills, and the Schnauzer sniff, down to faultless precision, synched up with our walking. I used to marvel at how perfect a pet he was for me, both of us wanting to walk briskly at all times. He was longing to linger just long enough for the flexi to be at full extension. I was walking without so much as a hiccup of a stop to wait for him. Then he would motivate to the next bush about ten feet ahead of me, and he would luxuriously inhale again. He even had a signal for me to know when he meant serious business - he would do figure eights in one place until he found just the right spot. Then we were off again without a worry in the world.

A line from The West Wing characterizes a Schnauzer perfectly - during a scene when the press secretary was prepping the president’s daughter about an interview with an expert reporter. The press secretary (CJ) wanted to illustrate how the reporter would wait ever so patiently for an extremely personal disclosure. “If you don’t answer she’ll just wait like an infinitely forgiving, infinitely compassionate cross between the Virgin Mary and a Schnauzer,” was the line (season five, episode seven).

That’s how it was living with a Schnauzer. Yet, sometimes I would get the feeling that I was keeping him from doing something grand. I would be writing, or reading, or watching something on TV, and he would sigh long and loud, as if to say, “Are we ever going to do something?” Because he knew there was an answer. There was always the potential for that lovely walk on the trail somewhere in the future.

A Positive Spin on a Bad Situation

I had an appointment to go have my blood pressure checked this morning. It was an interesting time I had getting into the nurse. I checked in as usual, tucked the paperwork in its plastic receptacle, and sat down in the waiting room. I felt good. There were two choices in reading material: The New Yorker Magazine and The Wine Spectator. I selected The New Yorker.

Thinking it would be a good idea to peruse the table of contents first, rather than randomly look at the advertisements, I saw a poem that looked interesting. It was about trees, or being a tree – something like that. I thought it sounded peaceful, so began searching for it towards the back of the magazine looking for the correct page number. I noticed more advertisements, and then I came across a photo of an evil looking dog, complete with snarling lips and sharp teeth. My heart dropped into my stomach, and I slammed the magazine shut, putting it upside down on the side table.

I can’t remember exactly what happened after that, but I do remember I ended up crying with my face hidden in my hands. Finally I got up the courage to get a tissue, and I called my daughter (who was waiting outside in the car). Mostly I needed to know what a photograph like that was doing in a magazine. I was thinking the worst things like: maybe they were advertising dogfights or selling fighting dogs, something sinister like that. When my daughter arrived, I shared exactly what I had done, so she could locate the picture, and tell me what it was about.

I walked her through what happened, and she located the photo of the dog. She wasn’t able to figure out what was being advertised, except for some sort of DVD about a white dog. Again, I began thinking the worst about what people can do with the wrong sort of dog. When I asked her if the photograph was scary, she affirmed that it was.

The next think I knew, I was called into the nurse’s office for my BP check. The nurse noticed that I looked poorly, and she asked if I was okay. I told her that I was not okay, explained what had happened, and went inside with my daughter’s support. We decided to go through with the BP check, and it was pretty good! I was glad for that, but I still felt really upset.

The nurse was really sweet, and she stated that we could look at this from the perspective that the medication is doing it’s job, and I’m getting better at dealing with the negative input that randomly comes my way. It was a good way to look at it, I think. Maybe this experience will help me get better at looking at things in a positive light.

A Slow Course of Action

I just hung up talking with my psychiatrist. It feels nice to have her checking up on me. Overall I feel like I went from almost paranoia to just nervousness. I still don’t want to go out of my house, and I don’t like it very much when I do. I have to force myself, because I want to get better. But I’m more concerned with the migraine aspect of the medications – that’s a different problem that I had been treating with my personal physician.

I meet with my personal physician tomorrow. I will be going in for a blood pressure check. The propranolol is designed to help with both the jittery, scared feelings I was having, but it could also lower my blood pressure below where it should be. I’ve been checking my blood pressure daily, and there is no problem with a lowered rate. In fact, my blood pressure is really good these days.

The propranolol is also doing double duty as a manager for the migraines. I’ve been having some headache pain for the past week, and migraine effects too, but nothing to extreme. I’ve been getting what are called floaters and flashers, and today my ears are really sensitive to sound. I’ve also had head pain over the course of the week. When I rank my headaches on a scale from one to five, I usually take pain medication if I rank the pain at a three. I’ve only had one of those headaches since the start of the new medications. The psychiatrist said that she’d only be worried if I had to take pain medication every day.

I also mentioned that I can conceptualize working again, but actually going through with it is a different story. For example, I went to set up my classroom last week (with assistance, of course), and I broke down a couple of times while I was there. I also met with my long-term substitute and I broke down at least twice while talking to her – not counting the tears I can keep inside. When she asked what she could tell parents about my condition, I didn’t know what to tell her. Am I okay? No. I’m still working hard to go outside, and being alone is too difficult a challenge. I told her to ask our boss.

I feel like I can’t take care of myself, so how can I be responsible for twenty-five students? Education is always my first priority, but there is also an aspect of protecting my students that is a moment-to-moment part of my job. I am ultimately their caretaker for the most part of the day, and one of my main responsibilities is to keep them safe from harm’s way. I would also hate it if I broke down and one of the students had to call the office because I was nonfunctional. That would be traumatic for my students, and me too.

It made me feel like I had someone on my team who’s trying to help me to function again. I want to be able to go outside again without fear. I want to be able to work. Sometimes it seems like such an uphill battle, but my psychiatrist assured me that time would help. She said a slow course of action was the wisest path. I felt comforted.

Insights

I’ve had a new shift in my thoughts about Hardy – mostly not so good thoughts. I realized yesterday that I had thought of him as almost saintly in his existence here with me, like he was a spiritual guide of sorts. It felt like our partnership was a result of divine intervention. I often commented that I had to have some awesome dog karma to have him in my life. There is no doubt that he made me a better person.

Up until yesterday, I’d been thinking that he might have even known that he would be leaving me soon. I believed he had been helping me prepare for his departure even on the attack day. I remember lying on the bed with him at my side, thinking that he was sending me the message, “My job is done here.” I also thought he sent me a different message like that one just prior to our turning around to head back home on the day of the attack.

He was lowered to mortal status for me yesterday. Out of nowhere, I had the realization that no living thing knows when they will die. It’s what makes the will to live so strong. The will to live is an essential part of being, and without it, we may give up all too easily when in extreme pain, or even while fighting for life. It’s a type of denial, in a way. If we deny that we are actually going to die, perhaps we may even be able to prevent it, or restore a previously unhealthy body into a healthy one.

So I suffered yesterday. I suffered, knowing that Hardy struggled during his final breaths to fight for his life. I suffered, knowing that he didn’t know that he would be leaving me. I suffered, knowing that he was fighting right there along side with me. His job was not “done here.” He fought for his life until the very end. Our fight was just too much for us. It was just too difficult to stop that dog from killing him. Too much for me, the boy, the people who stopped nearby in their car, the men who saved me from being attacked, and the woman with the cell phone. But mostly it was too much for Hardy. He really never had a chance.

The strange thing today is that it’s been surprisingly good. I’ve had so many bad days in a row. But today I’ve felt a little bit better. I made myself do things I had been procrastinating. I had planned to meet with my substitute this morning - she had asked to bring her three children (ages 5, 8 and 11) to the meeting, and I had said it would be okay.

As it turned out, she needed to cancel, and it gave me time to think. Two of her children are students at the elementary school where I work. I decided to tell her I didn’t think bringing the kids would be such a good idea after all, and I used the time to organize my doctor appointments and school calendar. I even pulled off an errand (accompanied) to the medical secretary to file my disability forms. Who knows, maybe yesterday’s insights were a good thing.

An Outing Alone

It has been two months since the attack. I’m still afraid to walk down my neighborhood street. I can only look that way, and when I do, it is both disturbing and there is a huge sense of despair over the choice I made that day. If only, if only, if only. I hate that I am getting used to Hardy being gone. I’m getting used to the pit in my stomach and pain in my heart over his absence. I don’t want it to be real. I want him to be here and healthy and happy.

The garden I created shortly after his death looks awful. I can’t seem to get the motivation to make it look pretty. I don’t want to be outside. I spend most of the time inside. The warm temperature is what gets me out there, but even then, I’m only comfortable in the back yard. I go out there from time to time, but never for very long.

My psychologist thought it was a milestone that I could be here for longer than three days. I didn’t tell him it was because I felt too cold in Santa Cruz to stay there. One of the side effects from a medication I am taking causes circulation problems, and that chill is extremely uncomfortable to the point where something feels wrong. I literally freaked out over how cold my feet were. So we left.

Here in Dublin our food supply was getting so low that I had to break out and go to a grocery store – alone. My car is still in SC, so I had to borrow my daughter’s car. The goal was to go get some bread and milk. I couldn’t even make myself a piece of toast, and I was really hungry. My hunger got the best of me. I forced myself to get around my fear of using her car - I have to go out to the front of the house to get inside. I feel extremely uneasy and fearful whenever I am out there.

The bread and milk errand wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be, so that was a bonus. On the way home, I decided to stop for a latte. Since I am in Dublin, there isn’t a coffee shop I know of where there isn’t a place for dogs outside. I had to drive around the perimeter of the local Starbucks looking for an entrance that wasn’t blocked by a dog, or in this case several dogs. I didn’t find one, and it took everything I had to get myself out of the car and into the café.

If I don’t look at the dogs, it’s easier. I remember a time when I was fearless of them, but those days are long gone. Now I get scared of the most harmless dogs – especially when I’m alone. I made it inside without completely freaking out, and successfully ordered myself a latte. I was thankful that when I came back out, the two dogs by the door were gone. It was a huge relief.

It was also my only outing for the day. I used to love being outdoors. I remember sitting outside that café for hours enjoying my time with Hardy, and anyone else who had tagged along for the walk we’d taken. I remember sitting and reading out there too – alone. I loved the dog friendliness of the place. Now I can only wonder when I will ever feel safe out there again. And being alone is miserable.

Setbacks

My psychologist gave me an hour and a half notice yesterday to meet with him. I accepted immediately. While our session was productive, I was disappointed when he told me that I wasn’t ready for the EMDR treatment. He did gather some preliminary information for when we go through the process.

Some of the information he wanted to know was about a place where I feel safe, and also information about four or five of the most intense and frightening moments of the attack. In addition, he gathered information about healthier ways I could think about myself after living through it.

At first I came away with some excellent new ways to think about myself. The main changes I knew I would like to feel were strong, confident, and brave. I also wanted to feel like I was capable of taking care of myself, even in the face of a dangerous situation. I wouldn’t feel like I had lost, and I wouldn’t feel like the outcome of most events would turn out to be a horrible disaster.

Later, after some time had passed, I began to have more flashbacks, only there were more details. I additionally lacked the skills to keep them from pulling me out of the present moment. I felt like I was regressing, instead of moving forward. I also felt like I may have been too hasty in both taking the appointment and in asking for the EMDR treatment.

To make matters worse, I had two bad experiences with dogs – both within less than 24 hours after meeting with my psychologist. During the first one, we sat inside the car waiting to pull out from the driveway, because a man and his two dogs were walking behind us. It was hot, so our windows were down. When the man and his dogs passed us, his vicious looking dog tugged on the leash and lunged towards me. I exclaimed, “Oh No,” thinking the dog was going to jump up into the car and attack me. Later I was told that I had overreacted. The man actually tugged on the leash to keep the dog walking, and all the dog did was turn and look at us.

The second experience was truly fear-provoking. I was riding my bicycle with my daughter on the Alamo Creek Trail, and I was in the lead. There was a young man walking his pit bull towards us. The dog jerked towards me, and his owner had to restrain his dog. This time I had a more intense reaction. I had to stop my bike because I immediately started crying and moaning out of fear. I couldn’t ride for several minutes, and I had to debrief the incident before I was able to continue.

In both instances it was difficult for me to distinguish what had actually happened from what I thought had happened. In the first, I was told that the dog didn’t do anything threatening. In the second, the dog actually did lunge at me, and cause a distressing physiological reaction. Both incidents caused me to feel extremely upset, and wondering if I would ever feel strong, confident, and brave again.

Seventh Day on New Meds

I’m up and writing this morning, and that feels great! I’ve been so extremely exhausted in the mornings; just to feel alert now is so wonderful. I’m also more comfortable in my own skin. The jittery, shaking feeling that I’ve felt since the attack is almost non-existent now. I feel grief, to be sure, and I’m definitely still vulnerable - and physically weaker than my usual fit self. I’m thankful for this way to express myself. I think this blog is what is keeping me sane.

I didn’t have as much trouble sleeping last night, but still had some WEIRD dreams. One was super strange, and I can’t remember the whole dream now, but I know it woke me last night. At that time, I felt sure I could remember. Now I can only recall something about an injured hand grabbing (attached?) to my left leg. I remember blood too, but that’s all. 

I miss my regular exercise routine. I was a regular visitor to the Wii Fit game, and riding my bike – and WALKING! My doctor suggested trying to do something I like to do a little each day, since I feel safest indoors, yesterday I chose Wii Fit. I tried for fifteen minutes yesterday, but only made it for twelve. That’s a huge change. I used to be able to work out for 45 minutes in the AM, and then I walked Hardy for about an hour in the afternoon. Will ever be able to walk again? I still doubt it.

I heard an interesting story on the local news brief this morning. Two counties in the Bay Area are considering pit bull legislation. Wow! According to Theresa Garcia of KGO, this was in response to the Concord toddler boy who was killed last month. Learning about this inspired me to research a little about dog bite legislation in my county (because it’s not one of the counties considering the new legislation). I discovered that there is a man named, Kenneth Phillips, who is working towards improving legislation. I am considering writing him, but I’m afraid to, at the same time. The people who oppose the legislation seem scary and threatening – probably a lot like the dogs they own.

I still have to try to get my act together to be able to work. It’s extremely stressful to think about and/or act upon. I need to get my classroom set up and draft a letter to the parents about not being there on the first days of school. I’m not ready to do either one. I wrote my boss yesterday. He is being supportive, but I still feel awful about working. I am going to need so much support  - even doing the simple act of setting up my classroom. My family members have said they will help, but I want to do it when I won’t run into any of my colleagues – so that means at night. I don’t want to break down in front of anyone, nor relive anything at this fragile stage, and I STILL CAN’T TALK ABOUT IT WITHOUT COMPLETELY FALLING APART!

Ouch!

The afternoons are becoming the time when I feel the most awake. I’m practically nonfunctional before 1:00 p.m. I’m also super sensitive, and I’m over reactive to stressful or scary input. I’m not sleeping very soundly, and I’ve been having weird dreams that are waking me up intermittently through the night. My circulation is constantly irregular – at one moment, my upper body will be too hot, but my feet will be freezing. Then at another moment, most of my body will be comfortable, but my hands will be cold. It’s difficult to be anything but irritable.

My ability to focus is limited even when I am awake. I’m having trouble writing – even though I know it will be beneficial for my mental state. Everything seems to happen in a blur, so it’s difficult to focus on any one topic for long enough to create a concise paragraph. I can read short magazine type articles, but not books. I can’t seem to focus long enough to understand the text. My eyes seem to burn when I use them for very long, so I close them often to rest, and then I get sleepy. I know these are all side effects of the new medications, but it’s a challenge to feel anything but frustration.

I’m distracted by two stressors: finding a sub to cover for me at school, and the pit bull that seems to be a resident at the home that is directly next door to us. The sub issue is difficult to deal with because no one wants to commit at this stage of the school year. Full time teaching positions could open up for the better teachers (the ones I’d like to fill in for me), and so it looks like I’m going to have to sweat it out to get hold of someone good.

The pit bull issue is a beast of a different sort. Leave alone the fact that those types of dogs TERRIFY me. I’m not yet comfortable looking at a photograph of one of those types of dogs. But if that dog IS a resident, something I’m too scared to confirm, it’s a resident at the home of a large family day care! What is this world coming to? To me, it simply seems like an accident waiting to happen. It also seems like the universe is NOT going to cut me a break. To quote the lyrics of a Bananarama song from the 1980s, “… It’s a cruel, cruel summer.”

Quiet - and Still

The new medication is taking its toll. My feelings went from a lot of anxiety and minimal depression, to little anxiety and a ton of depression. I’m missing Hardy more than ever, and I’m seeing him everywhere again. It’s difficult to think positively about anything. To make matters worse, my children haven’t checked in since a dropped call from my son yesterday, and last night I had a bad dream about my sister.

Yesterday evening wasn’t so bad. After I got control over my exhaustion, we went for a walk on UCSC property. Dogs are not allowed on the property, so I knew I wouldn’t have to deal with any surprises. It’s a beautiful campus where deer and bunnies are easily spotted. We saw at least five deer on two different occasions. There are tall redwood trees and vistas galore. Our walk traversed through a redwood grove and fern grotto, and then opened up to a view of Monterey Bay.

I wonder if the wildlife on campus is there because of the no dog rule. I’ve never seen a wild rabbit feel so comfortable as we walked by. I didn’t see an escape route or nearby hole for it to jump down, in the event of an approaching predator. It reminds me of the tame birds one will encounter in a place like Disneyland, or the squirrels in Washington D.C. Those animals will take food from an interested human. I’ve experienced it first hand. Literally.

I surmised that it was because of the no dog policy, and that realization made me feel a little sad. Until yesterday, I didn’t feel like Hardy was a nuisance to wildlife. I’ve certainly spotted numbers of animals while walking with him. Of course, I kept him on leash, but we still managed to regularly view the California Quail on the trail at home in Dublin. Once we saw a coyote.

The one thing I notice is that wild animals are quiet – and still. I know it’s not because they are peaceful, but for their own survival. It must be adaptive to be quiet and still. Except in the case of birds. Sound seems to be what they are about. For example, as we walked through the redwood grove yesterday, the birds seemed to continually chirp and downright scream at one another. I surmised that there must have been danger – at least in the trees.

Who knows? Maybe they were warning each other about the trespassers below them. I’ve heard that many animals depend on birds’ warning calls. The warning calls from the air are beneficial for those that inhabit the forest floor.

I wish there would have been a warning call for Hardy and me. I don’t think a day has gone by when I haven’t run through the details again - trying to figure a way out for us, trying to figure a way to save him. I still feel guilty, even though I know it wasn’t my fault, and I know I couldn’t save him. My conclusion? I would not be as adaptive in the wild. I lack the killer instinct.

Time Flies While You’re In A Fog

I just peeled my face off the pillow. I’ve been lying down most of the day. This is the third day of new medication. Previously I was taking something everyday for migraines. Now I am taking pills for anxiety, depression, and migraine prevention. When I take them, it doesn’t feel like too many, but today, it’s difficult to stay awake or concentrate for very long. This entry is a sort of test to see how much I can do. I want to try to record the process too. I don’t want to forget any detail over losing my little sweetie and what it has done to me.

I checked my work email this morning, and that took up my usual blog writing time. I needed to do a little preparation for work for being away from the classroom. I’ve asked someone if she is available, I’ve kept my boss and the HR department posted about the progress there, and I also wrote and called the contact person about the disability form(s). Now I’m waiting to hear back from the appropriate people.

I am also going to have to make plans to get my classroom ready. My family members have volunteered to help me schlep the furniture around the room so it’s presentable. This is one of the most fun parts of getting ready for the beginning of the year. This time it sounds like a HUGE chore. I hope my body adjusts to the medications soon. If I have to do it feeling like I do today, it is going to be slow going.

People from work are sending me well wishes and prayers. I feel like they will be supportive through all of this. I hope I can do my job without breaking down though. I’m worried about what might trigger a flashback or panic attack. I don’t want anyone to see me like that – especially a child who can’t possibly understand. When I think about how much I am going to have to censor for the students, it seems impossible. I truly wonder if I can even get myself to a place where I can educate my new students.

Every year I write a letter welcoming my new students back to school. I introduce myself and tell them to learn how to use my TeacherWeb. This sounds like another insurmountable task. How do I stay upbeat while informing them that I won’t even be there during the beginning of school? I’ve asked my boss to proofread my letter. I hope I can do it!

I'm Not Giving Up!

Whew. I’ve been through a lot in the past 24 hours. I don’t really have all of my wits about me right now, but I feel like I want to post something because I just finished emailing my boss and the human resources department. I had to inform them about what is going on in my life.

I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) yesterday. Now there is a name to the messed up condition that comprises my days and nights. I don’t like the label, but at least I am getting help for it. I also got a Work Status Report that excuses me from working for a month. I feel relieved about that aspect, because I don’t feel ready to educate, manage, and watch over the twenty-five students to which I will be responsible. I don’t want them or their parents to see me breakdown at work either.

In a way it’s a relief and a curse. I had been taking a prescription medicine for managing my frequent migraine headaches. Since I was feeling more anxiety then I’ve ever experienced in my day, I thought it would be best to talk to my personal physician about getting my medicine changed – which she did.

After visiting my doctor, I went to talk with my psychologist. It was intense, but I came away feeling hopeful that I could try a new therapy that helps people deal with traumatic events at my next visit. It’s called, Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) treatment. One search on Google using the words eye therapy got me to their website. I’m not exactly sure how it works, but at this point, I trust my psychologist, and I’m willing to try anything to stop the panic attacks and daily anxiety. I’d also like to be able to stay at my home in Dublin for more than a week without freaking out at regular intervals.

I worked with my psychologist for an hour, but before I left, I followed my doctor’s advice and asked to make an appointment to see a psychiatrist for the purpose of getting my new medications on track correctly. It turned out that her next appointment was either a week away, or the same day (about thirty minutes later). I took the same day appointment, and I finished meeting with my medical “team” and came away with several new medications to help with certain aspects of my day, as well as the aforementioned Work Status Report.

I was informed by the pharmacist not to begin taking any of the new meds until after I got to Santa Cruz because my ability to operate the car effectively could have been impaired. So I waited to take them until I was safely back inside the condo.

Since I LOVE sailing so much, and I was told by my doctor to try and do things that I like to do every day, I decided to try out sailing before going to the Santa Cruz abode. In all the times that I’ve been sailing, it’s never been scary. NEVER. In fact, before the attack, I had been moving towards learning to sail with my spouse, and eventually getting a sailboat. Our dream was to sail to Friday Harbor someday in the near future. We would have brought Hardy along too. The one thing I could be sure of was that there wouldn’t be ANY dogs there!

It didn’t matter. It was anxiety provoking. There were moments when I could remember why I loved to sail. It’s so beautiful. But the ocean is so powerful, and we took a few harsh waves onto the deck. By the time we rounded back towards the harbor, I couldn’t wait until I got off that boat and drove myself home. I said my good-byes in the parking lot (this was rare for me because I usually go up to the Yacht Club and visit for a couple of hours, watch pictures, catch up with friends, etc.) By the time I got to my car, I was so anxious that I took a panic attack pill without any water – just a mouthful of saliva.

I feel like I’ve been robbed! My dog has been taken from me. I am at a psychological imbalance. I can’t seem to go anywhere outside without getting upset from random things. I experience panic attacks that seem to come from nowhere. Worst of all, I don’t enjoy sailing very much. I sure hope the new medications help me with this because the one thing I thought I could do without fear and anxiety was sailing. Only time will tell.  All I know it that I don’t want to quit my job (I’m good at it and people LOVE me there), and I don’t want to quit sailing (ditto).

Things I Need to Share

I had two over the top experiences today. The first was when I viewed a large pod of Bottlenose Dolphins that had stopped by to take in the sumptuous feast off the coast of Seabright Beach. The second was as we bade them good-bye and began to walk back to our car, an event that still has me shaking as I type this post nearly six hours later.

My daughter and I began our day at one of our favorite breakfast spots that overlooks the Santa Cruz Harbor. The restaurant, Aldo’s, has a special deal on weekdays for folks who come in before 11 a.m. It’s a big breakfast of two eggs, any style, two pieces of bacon or sausage, and two pieces of French toast or pancakes for $5.95. It’s a large breakfast, but it is a good one. Their view is second to none.

The restaurant is dog friendly, so we’ve dined there with Hardy and Chico many times, alongside several other dogs, seagulls, and tourists out on the deck. The routine has always been to walk the dogs after eating. The Walton Lighthouse at the end of the harbor was usually our final destination. This day was no different. Except that Hardy was not with us, and even that is a little easier after a month and a half. I still miss him terribly, but I was feeling strong at this particular moment.

We were in for a treat once we got to the lighthouse! There was a large dolphin pod fishing for their own breakfast. Seeing so many dolphins for such a long time is rare where we were situated. In fact, I’ve only spotted dolphins at the Walton Lighthouse a couple of times, and even then, only briefly. This time there were about twenty of them working together to heard and catch the fish, no less. I could see the perimeter of dolphins, as they seemed to take turns catching fish. We saw them jumping out of the water over and over again as they chased after the jumping fish. At one point they were only about ten yards away from us, and they stayed there putting on a show for over thirty minutes.

As we turned around to head back, I saw a dog that looked very much like the attack dog heading towards us with its owner in tow. I had nothing short of a panic attack. At first I thought it important to protect Chico, but he was not close enough. I turned my back to the dog, facing the ocean, and I tried to calm myself, but it was no use. The present moment was my enemy! My daughter sensed my fear, and she put one arm around me. This helped, but I began breathing rapidly and tears started streaming down my face as I tried in vain to hide. It seemed like an eternity waiting for that dog to be a safe distance away, so I could continue walking. Finally we moved to a spot where I felt safer. I took several deep breaths before I felt like I was calming down, but it still felt like my blood pressure was spiking, and I was shaking uncontrollably. It was an experience that I will undoubtedly share with my doctor and my therapist tomorrow.

Still Taking Things One Day at a Time

I haven’t been able to sleep for three nights in a row. I had a stressful meeting with a pair of lawyers that was rather traumatic. I went into the meeting feeling stressed and scared, and I came away from the meeting feeling depressed and paranoid. On the way into the building, there was a man who seemed to purposefully walk into my personal space. It made me jump out of my skin, and I felt scared. I had to stop walking and let him pass before I felt safe.

During that meeting I was given advice about the upcoming lawsuit. One of the first things they said was that I should stop blogging. They were worried about how public my journal was. They did encourage me to write, and even email them, but they didn’t want my thoughts to be public. They also said that there was no burden to prove the dog owner’s negligence. It was already assumed, because the dog attacked and caused injuries, they were negligent.

What was disturbing was the fact that the settlement money from the suit was based solely on my pain and suffering. There could be no settling of scores. The other things they suggested were to stay in Santa Cruz, because I’m not comfortable at the house, make sure to continue with my therapy, and get medications better suited to my problem, perhaps go on a spiritual retreat, and most importantly, heal at my own pace.

The other item that’s causing me stress was a meeting I had with a Realtor (the next day). It was awful! She said that we wouldn’t be able to find a home that was at the same level if we sold now. She said she thought the market wouldn’t be back on track until 2012. But worse than that, she spewed all sorts of advice about what I should do to get over my grief (the worst one was to get a new dog - one that was abused), but she said NOTHING about healing from the attack! I CAN’T EVEN WALK OUT MY FRONT DOOR WITHOUT FREAKING OUT.

Between those two meetings, the first on a Friday, and the second on a Saturday, I thought that I’d feel better by now. But now it’s Monday at around 4 AM, and I can’t sleep. I had a bad dream, and the flashback was difficult to stop. Until today, I’ve been able to bring myself into the present moment and hinder the flashback from continuing in full. Since it happened in the past, and it isn’t the present, and I can differentiate those, the present moment (when it’s a safe moment) is a better place to be. Not great, just not the awful recurring past.

But tonight I am alone in Santa Cruz and I just had another flashback. The difference now is that the flashback didn’t start at the beginning. It’s like my subconscious knows that I’m learning to pause the flashback from that point in time (the part where I see that dog coming at Hardy and me). This time the visual rerun of the event had begun at a place where there was hope of stopping the attacking dog.

The flashback began after the part when I fell down, and before the boy came and pounded on the attack dog to help me. It was the part when I looked at Hardy, and told him, “Come on Hardy. Let’s get you out of this!”  Then it ran all the way to the point of him lying dead on the ground. And this part is getting more and more awful because I never saw him dead. In my mind, he is still alive. I often worry that he simply couldn’t move, that I could have gently picked him up and taken him to the vet, that I should have gone to him to make sure, and stroked his head and told him soothing thoughts as he moved on to the next level.

I decided to get up, turn on the lights, and force my brain to create a different reason to turn on my computer. My motive became double-checking my son’s registration to UCSC. At that point, I was not thrilled about changing to electronic journaling instead of posting to a blog, but I decided it was better than not writing at all. Writing is just too darn helpful.

I purchased a book yesterday about what happens after death. The passage that resonated for me was about a man who was terminally ill, and he put a message on his voicemail that basically told everyone to stop giving him advice, and stop calling in tears because their own grief over losing someone else wasn’t resolved. He instructed callers to hang up unless they simply wanted to have a normal conversation. He concluded with a statement of forgiveness if they did hang up, that he would harbor no ill feelings, but send them good wishes.

That’s how I feel. People tell me the worst advice throughout my day. It doesn’t matter if I solicit the advice or not. The person always means well, but I’ve learned that when they preface their comment with, “I probably shouldn’t say this, but…” Then it’s a nightmare dog attack story – like I haven’t heard enough of those by now, or some other painful advice. I received advice to: get a new dog, cat, bird, pet of some sort, or volunteer for some organization that THEY would like, or forgive the attack dog’s owner, or go on another vacation, etc. The list is continually growing every day.

I just want to have a normal conversation with people. I don’t want to talk about the attack, unless it’s absolutely necessary (therapy or deposition). But most importantly, I don’t want anyone to tell me to get better any faster than I am able. Most of the advice is intended to give me a shove into the “she’s better” category. It feels like people are tired of me processing the ordeal and trying to heal. It seems to me that everyone wants me to act as if I’m fine and dandy. So I’ve begun to ACT like I’m ok in social situations, but I’m really not. I’m still just taking things one day at a time.