Between Survive and Thrive

I never realized what an overachiever I had become. Even while so sick I couldn’t stand for more than ten minutes without having to excuse myself, I got things done around the house. Not the usual stuff, but I did manage to clean up my son’s room (a HUGE undertaking), hang a painting, and keep the bathrooms spotless (I didn’t want anyone to get what I had). I also kept the house cool during a heat wave by opening the windows in the night and closing the windows in the mornings, and I did a little hand wash – by necessity. Finally, because it really never stops, I made the time for a little dog training.

I also watched, like an observer, the comings and goings of my family members. I never knew how much I did for them until I couldn’t do any of it. Instead I was there to witness them go about their lives. Since I had nothing interesting to report in my life, there was very little focus on what was going on with me, and a lot of focus on what was going on with them. I even helped my son get his bills in order at the condo in Santa Cruz. It was really interesting to hear about the lives of my family members with tremendous focus on them. I think that’s the way it used to be before I began working full time. I miss that connection to all of them, and I miss being there for them precisely when things come down even more.

After four solid days of sitting (or lying) around trying to stay still, I realized there is quiet in the house from around 9 AM until around 11:30 AM – two and a half hours on the weekdays. There is very little activity from my family members at that time, and it really won’t happen again all day or night. The quiet time doesn’t happen in a consistent way on the weekend, except that there is almost always someone coming or going, sometimes with one or both of the dogs.

The dogs nap during the quiet spaces. They like to lie on the couch on a blanket, with me someplace nearby. Chico usually stays put, but consistently surveys what I’m doing whenever I shift gears. He doesn’t usually get up until my daughter returns from work. He seems to be waiting for her, always with a listening ear towards the front door. Roxie sleeps on the couch soundly, but if I move anywhere, she follows me there and back again.

I like that about Roxie... I like a lot of things about Roxie. She seems to tag along with me wherever I go, and I also notice that her young, fresh personality is fun to be around. Yesterday I was successful in getting her to sit a couple of times, and I was also able to get her to play with me. The best thing about Roxie is that she seems to have chosen me as her favorite.

Maybe it’s only in my imagination, or maybe it’s my perspective, I’m not sure which, but I believe she’s making that rescue dog mind shift. It’s the mental shift of consciousness that can only be recognized by someone who has successfully rehabilitated a rescue dog. It happens when they realize that their private hell is over. It doesn’t happen like a light bulb is being shut off or on. It’s a gradual, slow shift, but I saw it in Roxie during this time of illness.

The behavior looks like I felt when I began taking the Propranolol. There isn’t the need to check over the shoulder to make sure nothing bad is coming from behind. There isn’t the need to stay awake all the time to make sure nothing bad will happen while there is no way to defend against it. The startle reflex, the one that feels like jumping out of the skin, seldom occurred - even after something sudden or unexpected happened that had caused that feeling in the past. It is seen outwardly from a general shift in conduct and posture. The body language looks different. A droopy posture becomes balanced and poised. Curiosity replaces avoidance. Overall things begin moving from survive to thrive.