Nine years ago I went to an early morning doctor’s appointment and told Mac I would be back in an hour. I didn’t come home that day because I ended up in the hospital fighting for my life. This past Wednesday evening I think he had every intention of doing the same when he suddenly fell ill and needed to go to the hospital. I told him everything would be ok and I asked him to come back, but God had other plans. Mac’s gift of peace, happiness, and pleasant memories will always replace my grief and have a special warm place in my heart.
I thought waking up to find myself paralyzed was the worst thing that could ever have happen to me. One thing I can say about my journey post-paralysis is that while I had so many adjustments to make from one day to the next in the hospital and beyond is that during that time in my life with so many uncertainties, and so many things to fight and climb back from, one of my greatest joys and inspirations was always my little dog Mac.
During times of trauma while we’re fighting for our lives, we anchor ourselves. We set goals. We embrace happy thoughts and optimism in the face of the unknown. We also look forward to unplanned days at home resting and appreciating our lives especially with our furry little family members that bring us unconditional love as our quest to heal reaches into our future.
After my paralysis, each day would bring new challenges. Despite those difficult days, Mac always reminded me that there was more to life than my disability. He reminded me that there was something that was still normal inside me despite the fact that my body didn’t move the same as before. He reminded me that what was still normal was my heart and soul. That he loved me as a parent no matter how I was on the outside. Sometimes during recovery we forget how to slow ourselves down enough to embrace thoughts such as this so we can let our trauma go and place our thoughts in a better place. Our pets have a way of reminding us how to recapture a tranquil peace and better still, how to smile and laugh again. They heal us better than any doctor’s prescription at times. They know how to help us and make therapy much more fun, and they also know when it’s time for us to rest — sometimes by simply sitting in our lap when we don’t get the hint.
For the past nine years Mac has been every bit of the unconditional four-legged therapist for me. He was there through my highest highs and my lowest lows. Whenever I would do pool therapy it had to be with me holding him in my arms because he always loved being in the water with me. Stretching and yoga therapy meant belly rubs and chasing the ball I had to repeatedly throw. He could facilitate both physical and occupational therapy for me simultaneously. I knew poodles were smart, and he always delivered with smiles of his own, lots of tail wags, and an abundance of energy. Walking for me meant walking for him. If I overdid any of my exercises or if I was just in tremendous pain from tight muscles and a nervous system that was on fire, he knew that sleeping by my side with his head on me was his way of taking all that hurt away. Of course if I moved during those particular therapy sessions I would get a deep patient growl, a stern reminder to lie still! He would even come out in the living room in the evening and bark at me to stop watching television because it was time for bed. His payment for his services was prime rib, fresh chicken, Alaskan salmon (not that farm raised stuff), hot dogs after pool therapy, and of course mac-n-cheese, to name a few of his favorites. Who was I to argue?
I’ve talked in many of my blogs about bettering ourselves with a bright outlook on life in the face of all the challenges that are always set before us. Well, I have to say there is no better form of therapy than that of a beloved pet. The doctor’s bill is cheaper, and you get to keep the laughter and slobber too!
I will always be grateful for my little silly son Mac. It was an honor and a privilege to adopt him fourteen years ago at the age of two from a small rescue in eastern Tennessee. On the way home to North Carolina there was a pit stop at Arby’s for a beef and cheddar just for him and that was the beginning of the most spoiled rotten lifetime he could ever possibly imagine. Years later he helped me along the way with my near death experience of the aneurysm, stroke, and paralysis, and I helped him when he was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor six years ago. We both survived, and we both proved the doctors wrong by overcoming our odds and living our lives to the fullest.
I will miss you forever my little son Mac. Thank you Mac for all the unconditional love and support you’ve given me over the years. I am and will be grateful to you forever.
Now it’s time once again to keep finding forward...