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Death Be Not Proud or…Get busy living or get busy dying

It’s so easy to live and so easy to die

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You can live, take in air, eat, go to the bathroom, physically healthy on the outside and dying inside of a broken heart too weak to fight depression

When you die, you die, no air, no food, at times a final bathroom break, sick on the outside all while the heart fights desperately to live on the insidePicture3

It’s so easy to live and so easy to die

Living is a struggle, learning and navigating through a ‘new normal’ one did not ask to have. I want the old normal where stuff happened the way it should, predictable and expected

Dying is a struggle, learning and navigating through a final stage of life you did not ask to have. Death had no right to disrupt all that was normal, true and kind

It’s so easy to live and so easy to diemom 2

Life is a given.

We live our lives day to day, hour to hour, not thinking once about what it means to live. We take life for granted until we realize it’s gone

Death is a given.

For after the life we’ve taken for granted is gone the aftershocks of raw emotions will be unpredictable, coarse, sneeringly painful and at times forgetful until you wake up in the morning and realize death is not bringing back the one it took recently or those in the past. Your mom, tobias and pi patel are never coming back

It’s not so easy to live when the ones you so loved have died

Death be not proud Picture1.png

 

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The Power of goodbye or …goodbye, pretty damn much the final curtain call

Grief is lingering and continues to show its fangs when least expected.

I wish I could just stay home from work for a month, get things in order and come to terms with dealing with the new normal grief has chosen to give to me as a present san bows and glitter.

A new normal I didn’t seek. 

But…

Work is work and dictates the attendance of 35 hours a week to maintain insurance benefits along with the coveted vacation accrued hours.

Well…

Grief

is here and not going anywhere too soon.

I think it’s going to stick around until the day I draw my last breath

Hopefully seeing the dead of family past at my bedside ready to welcome me into another realm will make that last breath worth its’ draw.

But…

Related imageIn the meantime, I’ll listen to music to numb the silence.

“Pain is a warning that something’s wrong

I pray to God that it won’t be long”

 -It will forever be long for pain has no expiration date, no renewal before expiration fees, no put it on a payment plan and go

Nothing…

“There’s nothing left to try

There’s no place left to hide” 

-What is there to try? I’ve cried and cried to block away the reality of goodbye and I’ve tried to hide behind substances legal or not to no avail

There’s nothing left to lose

There’s no more heart to bruise. 

– Heck I get to leave all that busy no nonsense stuff behind because what I’ve lost can never be replaced or substituted. Pi-Patel took my heart, Toby and Marge took mi alma.

Related image

There’s no greater power

Than the power of goodby

-The power of goodbye is accepting the finality of a goodbye. A goodbye so final it leaves a void of blackness after those words leave your lips

I loved so deeply three souls that made getting up each day worthwhile… so difficult to go to bed at night knowing you won’t be there in the morning

Image result for japanese artist with dark artwork

I love you Butterfly

I love you boys

https://youtu.be/NHydngA5C4E

***images borrowed from the web –I adore the artist Avogado6  who captures my raw emotions

Posted on by Anelemc

Running in the rain…or Bling desperation

So…

I ran a half marathon-13.1 miles on Saturday.

I ran it on the mean streets, oops, the gentrified streets of Brooklyn.

The race started on the sidewalk of the cosmetically altered Botox on concrete gone wrong Brooklyn Museum and ended on the newly reinstalled wood weather treated planks of the boardwalk in the now Russian enclave of Coney Island.

So…

It was raining.

Not the drizzly refreshing kinda rain but the giant pouring rain drops slapping your head and oozing down your face kinda rain. The drizzly refreshing came towards the end but as soon as I crossed that finish line the slapping drops returned! My glorious finish was photographed in the arms of Peter Ciaccia, president of NYRR running events and a big supporter of those who are referred to as the ‘back of the packers’. In other words, back of the packers are the ones who finish the race long after the after post-race party has ended and the disgruntled looks from volunteers who had been out in the elements since 4am want to go home to a hot shower but are stuck out there waiting for your ass to cross the line, so they can break it down and cart the shit back to storage and finally…go home. 60938147_race_0.4027700976311832.display

So…

My first time running in the rain.

A brutal lesson in feeling downright accomplished at making it through the course then feeling soaking wet cold and miserable enough to forgo that Nathan’s hot dog and beer. All week leading up to running the half visions of hotdogs in buns slathered in sauerkraut and mustard danced in my head. Twirling round and round the hotdogs danced moving towards my mouth where slowly, they would be decimated, eaten and conquered.

So…

The vision of hot dogs was fleeting.

It was replaced by my yearning to get my soaking, wet butt home to stay under a hot shower until eternity or the hot water heater gave out.

So…

I ate pizza.

It wasn’t the same satisfaction of eating a dancing hot dog but it had to do. Two slices, plain, nothing fancy and it landed in my gut with a thud and stayed for two days. 33020104_10216735804493257_7361619764055113728_n

So much for running in the rain…or Bling desperation.

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Let the rain come down…

Nov. 9, 2016

So here I sit in my lonely room
Lookin’ for my sunshine
But all I’ve got is two cigarettes
And this broken heart of mine
-Prince

Cigarettes I no longer crave. I stopped smoking years ago.

I spend allot of time sitting around trying to figure out which way to go while feeling lonely for Pi.  Yes, my heart is still broken but not the broken of being just broken as on October 24 when he passed. It’s a broken of what was fragile, now gone and can’t be put together again.

It’s been 17 days since he passed and 17 days since a drop of wine has touched my mouth. Grief took place with no escape from reality brought on by a bottle of wine. In order for my grief to form, grow and dissipate to where it is comfortable to live with, my mind and body had to be completely clear. It’s working and for that I thank Pi.

The results of the 2016 Presidential election brings fear, trepidation, uncertainty and longing to be in the frame of mind I was in on Nov 7 before the shit let lose.

But…

No regressing, the present is fleeting and the future ‘is not ours to see’ (Que Sera, Sera).

I miss Pi Patel.  img_1125

(Although, I told HIM, I’d drink three bottles of wine a day to have him back.)

But…

As a dog parent friend posted on my FB on Nov 12, “Showing up for life when we don’t feel like it is very healing”.

It is healing.

And although I’d like to stay in bed, sorting through pics of my fur baby, it’s not possible.

Bills gotta get paid, and I gotta start living.

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I no longer have a heart because Pi took it with him…

October 24, 2016 at 12:30am Pi Patel, at the age of 12 passed on.

He took his last breath, in my arms wrapped in a towel after receiving Propofol followed by Euthosol. He went quietly and at peace. The laboured breathing became soft and even and the discomfort/pain dissipated as his body shut down.

On the third day of his pass, I still grieve. Not as hard as day one when I returned home with Pi’s leash and harness but no Pi. The tears and physical stress were non-stop, to the point where my eyelashes turned inward and prick at my eyeballs. I learnt on that first day at 3am, it’s better to cry standing up rather than lying down, for the phlegm building up in the sinus’ does not drain in rhythm with the tears streaming down the face. Too painful to lie down so I stood in the kitchen and cried.

The steps of grief are making their appearance against my will.

It starts with…

Bargaining

I bargained with HIM to bring Pi back and of course he has yet to do so. I stopped drinking wine a couple of days prior to Pi’s passing because the consumption was becoming excessive. I blame HIM because I feel the help given to stop drinking came with a cost-Pi’s Life! Please, please, please bring Pi back and I’ll return to drinking and consume three bottles a day!!!! 1522175740119

Bargaining TO Anger

For a vet nurse the signs leading up to Pi’s critical status should have been obvious. WHY didn’t I see it! Too busy drinking wine to notice? He was lethargic, did not want to walk, had loose stools, relieved himself on the kitchen tile.

Well…

That’s normal for Pi, except the relieving part. That’s it. Didn’t pay attention to relieving himself in the kitchen. I WAS NOT OBSERVANT ENOUGH! I LET MY OWN DOG DIE AND DID NOTHING TO SAVE HIM!. Should have questioned his doctors more, more testing, more bloodwork, more and more and more…and it still would not have saved Pi.

Anger TO Depression

dscn0030I miss him so. The pain and longing is unbearable. Prior to the euthanasia, I rubbed Pi’s head, inhaled his scent, over, over, over and felt his breath short and shallow on my cheek, over, over, and over. DID NOT WANT TO LET GO. He shivered and I held him tighter, trying to feel the little bit of warmth left in him. He was cold, weak and terribly uncomfortable. He needed to go, to get away from pain and I had to let him go.

Depression TO Acceptance

He’s not here at home with me and in two weeks time he will be home again-this time in an urn.

Ashes to Ashes…

It’s easy to accept, yes, my dog is dead. Cold, heartless, steel, jagged edges=DEAD. My dog is dead and that’s that, over and finished. All that’s left in this house right now are his bed, bowls, leash, harness, tags, shampoo, medications, vitamins, lentil food sitting in the fridge, full bag of kibble, towels, winter clothing, booties…and his SCENT. I sniff his bed as much as possible. I miss him so and so and I’m so…  pi-patel

ANGRY

DEPRESSED

ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY.

So Angry I could scream!!!

But instead…

I CRY in the supermarket

I CRY walking Toby

I CRY looking at his pictures

I CRY, CRY, CRY…   img_1118

I no longer have a heart because Pi took it with him.

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I would do anything…(pt 2)

Yes.

I would do anything for the love of Tobias, my first fur baby!

Tobias, 13 yrs of age and plague with many illnesses. Some breed specific: dermatology issues with yeast, cataracts, possibly Cushing’s disease . Other illnesses linked to old age: arthritis, vestibular disease , and lipomas galore.

I would do anything…for Tobias.

Mulberry Model-who did double walk-way struts when Pi Patel grew bored of the scenery

The guardian of mom when she was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer. Tobias did not leave her side before the diagnosis, during the procedures following the diagnosis and the ensuing chemo treatments

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Tobias, the therapy dog, who frequented Bishop Hulces Episcopal Nursing Home where he greeted all residents with long petting sessions.. Most especially, affecting the residents of the dementia floor who were non-verbal but spoke during a visit with Tobias

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Ok.

This stops here…lists are boring…but pictures, yes pictures, visually tell more.

The Puppy years. (L) First grooming (R) First day home. .

tobiaspi-outline-compare
Tattoo comps
tobias-paw
More tattoo comps

Bed Buddies

Toby  being a good sport when mom is bored

Toby’s surgery-never again will I be in surgery with my fur babies…well maybe

Toby just being, The Tobes, Tobadiah, Mr T, Mr Tobes, Chunky monkey, Tobias, Tub of Lard (mom’s nickname, not mine)…

 

Toby and I say, “THANK YOU” to everyone who reached out to us during his bout with vestibular disease. Words of concern and encouragement are so dear when one feels alone  going through this. Once again, “THANK YOU!”

LOVE
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Mean Girls pt2…

I returned to General Practice Veterinary Medicine after four months of working  12-14 overnight shifts in Veterinary Emergency care. Time spent in ER was incredible in terms of experience gained and processing death from trauma. I truly miss the doctors and eager vet students I was fortunate to work with. Their love of medicine and the desire to save all God’s creatures from injuries was unprecedented. I realize the privilege to work with this crew and although  BP misplaced me in terms of job title and where I truly needed to be, which inevitably led to my failure-I forgive. Nothing can replace what I saw, did, treated, prayed over, held as the last breath was released, can ever measure up to the experiences gained in working overnight emergency.

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Fate’s OHE-spay (uterus)

And…

BP will accept me back.

After…20141128_154254-1 (2)

More time spent in GP.

Yes. I miss ER.

But…

My body and emotional mindset is exhausted.

I no longer shed tears at PTS’s (put to sleep). 20141107_103448 (2)

Not in front of clients.

Not in the bathroom.

Not on the train going home.

But…

At night, when I stare at the ceiling at bedtime.

I guess it’s all good in some sick way for I can now concentrate on the owners and offer more support from mi alma which no longer feels.

My blog on transitioning to this career has ended. My thoughts on the continuance in this career  as well as school is now questionable. 20151024_071642 (2)

Because…

The other side of this business is still present and for that matter,  will always be. As long as there are insecure, unstable nurses-the Mean Girls , in this field the drama will thrive.

Don’t want to end up on NY1 so I’ve grown thick skin, a thick heart an emotional void and most importantly the desire to have only working relationship with them.

No, you are not my friend or close confident.

No, I do not need your approval to validate how I do my job.20150417_152313 (2)

No, I will not gossip about other co-workers, maliciously or even constructively with you.

No. No. No.

Accusing me of not cleaning?

Please watch the video.

2016 is in full string and transitions seem to be lining up. I’ve thought about leaving the state in search of Tech Nursing work. My mind is working, talking to others who have relocated and gauging if this is a necessary transition to make.

Time will tell. Actually the Fall will tell.

I’m biting at the bit and I love an adventure.

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Why not?

Cali, Georgia, one of the Carolina’s. Florida? Virginia, Washington, Seattle?

Who knows.

 

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I Would Do Anything for Love…

Yeah right!

Still single so how could I?

But…

I would do anything for love when it comes to my fur babies.

I’m already doing it. My salary is theirs. Working for the  six animals in the household. Four require serious and not so serious medication while the other two are thriving.

Health report of the fur babies:

Tara-Habby-Queen Bae.

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Big E-Leader of the upstairs pack.

IMG_0601

 

Winnie-Herpes

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Fate-Fibrinous Anteriour Uveitis in both eyes-FIP suspect

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Fate- 9 months

Pi Patel-aside from a career as a Mulberry model –possible liver cancer/dermatologic issues

pihr8

Toby-cataract and liver issues

pihr5

The caretakers:

Me-increased consumption in wine and trying to be a runner as well as trying to be a Buddhist,  trying to be an Episcopalian, while pretending to be a Catholic.

FullSizeRender

 

Mom, my mom-bitchin about the fur babies!

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It’s all good.

At least, I keep telling myself, mantra style.

I’m gonna brag a bit.

No.

Not brag about the restaurants I visited, the vacations I had, my PR running time or even the enormous amount of weight I lost.

I’m a gonna brag about the Furbabies.

The Furs.

Home Cooking:

Anti inflammatory recipe for Pi Patel and now Tobias thanks to my dear neighbour Karen!

image 1image 3image 4 image 2image 6

image 5

This is how they roll…in the house of course.

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Tara-Habby’s throne
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The Habby’s private bathroom and rooftop lounge
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Private gym and library

Ok.

Enough of the brag.

 

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There but for the grace of God…

On a Wednesday in March, mi perro, my mini schnauzer, my mulberry doggy ware model, my Pi Patel, my fur baby underwent an ultra sound due to blood work which revealed  high liver enzymes and cholesterol levels.

He was diagnosed with possible liver cancer. 

FullSizeRender (1)

On a Thursday, the following week, mi gato negra, my domestic short hair, my sassy than thou, my Fate, my fur baby had cloudy eyes and visited an ophthalmologist.

Based on the status of her eyes, she more than likely has FIP. Fate (2)

Can I please dig a hole in the ground, preferably in the backyard, crawl down and hibernate for the next 7 years? Is it okay to randomly scream as loud as possible, opening my mouth and having no sound escape-a silent scream like the figure in the “The Scream“.

I’ve emotionally held up owners or held their fur babies paws during a euthanasia for the past three years. I wonder who the hell will offer the same support to me?

 No one.

Because I Will Not Let It Happen.

Grieving is personal and I protect myself intensely.

I grieved for my father alone.

Silently crying at night, reeling from the pain of losing a parent to trying to feel the pain my father endured throughout his life.  Accepting the pain of knowing my father has permanently left this earth and won’t be returning is an ongoing process.

I grieved for my cousin alone.

I cried silently at work. I was numb at home. I cried walking through Target after seeing the Dove body wash he raved about using. I’m still in a state where I know he’s gone but can’t fathom his presence gone from this earth.

My memories of those two souls are always in my present. I live in the house where memories were created as we once dwelled there together. The backyard and third floor is my cousin. The house itself, the   basement and the stoop is my father.

Grief and memories are intertwined.

One persons’ grief process is not another’s.

The loss is real. I’ve lost a parent. I’ve lost a cousin.

I’ve also lost two neighbours within a month. I want to say three for my ex-brother in law lived for a time  in the ‘hood when it was the ‘hood’ and not the ‘neighourhood’.

2016 is a year of sadness and reckoning.

There but for the grace of God go i.