Bach, In Time!

BACH, IN TIME!

Tomorrow will mark six weeks since I received my double lung transplant. My God: how life just marches on! For a seemingly endless time we have waited for these days. I was diagnosed with Interstitial lung disease in 1998 - twelve years ago! The disease progressed very slowly over the years; so much so, that I really couldn't tell from week to week how it was progressing, but when I would look back six months or so, I could see that I was indeed getting worse. For six years we wanted to move from Reno (we lived there for eight) but I was too unstable; we were too unsure about the future for me to quit my job - to risk losing medical insurance. It was clear that when we visited areas at lower altitude that I felt better and was able to do more (Reno is at 4500 ft altitude.) Finally, my Pulmonologist said that we could buy more "time" and more comfort for me, breathing-wise, if indeed we were to move to a lower altitude. We did some research and ended up choosing to live and work in Vancouver, Washington (altitude 150 ft.) I did get some relief, for a few years.

So, just six weeks ago I was leashed by a 50 ft nasal cannula to an oxygen concentrator, not getting out very much at all. It had gotten to the point that I would go grocery shopping every week, with a tank in a small backpack strapped onto my back, but I would be exhausted by the time I got home and put the groceries away. Sure, I would visit with girlfriends once a week or so; coffee or lunch or a glass (or three) of wine. But I was watching a LOT of television, movies, reading a lot and sitting on the couch, a LOT....when I wasn't napping. Sometimes I napped because I was tired: exhausted...Other times it was simply to help the day pass. I saw the same walkers, school kids and dog-owners pass by our house every morning. Matt, Meredith, Al and Anne were my morning companions. Ron works three twelve-hour shifts a week and I came to cherish the days that he was gone: not because I don't love being with him - I do! How I love my husband! But I just couldn't bear the thought of having a witness to how much I wasn't doing with my days! My energy levels had gotten so low - my ambition so defeated, that I treasured the luxury of doing nothing with no witness, until an hour or two before he was due home in the evenings. Then, before he arrived home I would scramble around the house, straightening, doing the dishes I had avoided all day, making the bed finally, etc., so that he didn't know (did you know, Ron?) that I had actually been on the couch much of the day. It was a very sad time. I tried to remain cheerful, patient, positive on the outside: it was a big stretch. The call would come....the call would come.

I was missing my dog Chiba terribly, who we had sent ahead to that better place in October. Chiba was quite the naggy little dog: she always demanded attention. I loved her so much; I loved grooming her, petting her, just being with her: she had been my constant companion. Toward her end I wasn't taking her out for walks much, but it had become apparent she was getting old (we thought it was arthritis; she was 11 years old....we were wrong) and she wasn't much interested in walks by then either. Around the New Year, I was going out of my mind waiting for that damned call that would change our lives - bring us to the next, exciting chapter! I needed a mission! A small mission, that was achievable! I decided I could be of use - find a purpose - by volunteering at the Humane Society. It became my New Year's Resolution! Soon after the New Year I completed orientation at the HS in Vancouver. I would be a "Dog Socializer!" My job was to spend two hours, one day a week working on socializing the adoptable dogs. So many have no manners, no training. A Socializer's job is to walk the dogs, socialize and spend a little time training them some better manners in order to help them find forever homes. Ron's friends joked with him that we would have a new dog very soon. WE agreed it would be best to wait until after the transplant. It was settled. We would wait. It wouldn't be fair to us, or to a new dog, should we bring it into our home, only to get The Call the next month, possibly even the next DAY, and then be gone for who knows how long! Our lives were just completely on hold waiting for this transplant: no travel, no dog, no using Ron's vacation time.

My days at the Humane Society were great! I was on my own by early January and started by walking the dogs. I wasn't going for walks on my own any more, so I initially decided we needed each other: everyone would get out for a walk. I quickly realized that, on seven liters of oxygen, I was no longer any match for even a 35 pound, badly-mannered pit bull pup or a poorly trained Labrador. The Chihuahuas and Min-Pins were more my speed. No...I was no dog walker after all. On my second volunteer week, I decided to groom the dogs. They needed to be brushed and look their best for the visitors looking to adopt! THAT's when I met Bach. Bach was eight years old and 94 pounds of LOVE, in the form of a St Bernard/Rhodesian Ridgeback mix. When I took mellow Bach to the Socialization room for grooming the first time, he just drank it up. He lay down, rolled over and loved every bit of the attention. If I stopped, he would paw me for more, with crazy-long nails. My heart melted. I couldn't stop thinking about him, and went home and told Ron we had to go look at him. Ron resisted: I insisted. The next day I called and found out that Bach had a 24-hour "hold" on him - meaning another family wanted to consider him for adoption. I had an urgent need to introduce these two boys to each other! I dragged Ron down to the Humane Society and we visited with Bach; Ron was smitten! We put a second hold on Bach and were told that if the other family hadn't picked him up by noon the next day, he was ours! I couldn't sleep that night: I was in love! I so wanted a new companion! Ron and I struggled with the fact that I could get The Call at any moment, and yet we also were really feeling the void left in our hearts and home by the loss of Chiba...it was time for a new furry friend, and we hoped to have found him in Bach. Regardless, I told myself, he would have a new home very soon: that was the most important thing. I left it up to God; if it was meant to be, Bach would come home with us tomorrow. It was Sunday, January 31st and Ron and I went to Sunday Brunch with my very good friend MaryPat and her friend to Salty's Restaurant: all you can eat oysters on the half shell, Dungeness Crab and many many more yummies! (As it happened, they would be the last raw oysters I may ever eat in my life! Waaa!) After our brunch, I called the Humane Society to see if indeed Bach had been picked up. He had NOT! I told them we weould be there in twenty minutes to pick him up! Ron and I drove directly to the the HS nd took one more visit with him: we were convinced...it was decided! We took him home and our house was whole again.

We had adopted Chiba when she was four months old; I knew that dog's every mood, sound and habit. Quite to the contrary, Bach came to us with an entire previous life; a Senior Dog. The family that relinquished him had filled out paperwork as to his history and habits, and on paper he was a great dog. My instincts told me he is a great dog. But he is a completely different dog than Chiba, and he is BIG and he has BIG teeth!! He is a little intimidating. I had to admit, as much as we seemed to like each other, we would need to get to know each other and to trust. I tried to clip his nails and he balked. I tried to clean his ears and he would jump back and look at me like "What you talkin' 'bout Willis!?" We found common ground in the brushing, and he relaxed. I bought toys from the Good Will store and he didn't really know what to do with them. I gave him Milk Bones and carrots (Chiba loved her daily carrots) and he brought them into the living room and dropped them, where they would stay for days if I didn't pick them up. But this dog follows me everywhere, and puts his big huge head into my lap and hands and just breaks my heart! He lays down beside me on the floor and begs to be touched. I took him for the walks I had not been going on, and he would take his leash into his mouth, as if HE were walking ME. He shakes and sits and speaks and comes. He does not stay very well. I immediately felt safer in my home during the day and night with a dog in it once again. I was feeling very vulnerable without a dog as a first warning system and companion. It makes me feel good to know that people see a dog in the window as they walk by my house; especially as they would also see oxygen tanks waiting in the drive to be picked up. I felt like target to some degree, knowing that I couldn't run or fight for my life if I needed to. And, as Murphy's Law always dictates, three and 1/2 weeks after we adopted a new dog...we got The Call. Our new dog would now be passed around to several Step-Moms and babysitters over the next few weeks.

I haven't been with my dog in six weeks. I hardly know him! By all reports from Ron and Mom, he is not the same dog today as I left six weeks ago...He OWNS that house and it is his! He is Home! He barks at the door and stands guard in our living room window; a warning and a sentinel to all who might dare to trespass. He also is a big softy, who just wants to be pet! He loves chicken strips and Pupperoni. He takes a pill for his bad knees and he thinks being put outside without you is punishment. He sheds everywhere and he needs me back home with him to groom him and walk him on the pavement to file down his long nails. When I get home he is going to be the walking-est, hiking-est, luckiest dog! We will play and wrestle and walk and go swimming in the rivers. I will chase him around our big yard, and he will never know what it's like to have an owner that can't take him for long walks...and he will help me to forget that I ever couldn't.