Day 56: Joy

Today, I was shadowing a social worker around town.  We ended at one of the local assisted living homes.  Sitting outside was an older couple in rocking chairs.  I couldn't help smiling from ear to ear because here was a couple that was able to stay together despite needing more assistance in the home.  It doesn't always work out that both people can go to the same place which is tragic in its own right.  I can't imagine getting to a point where LOML and I aren't under the same roof.  At any rate, the husband said, "you look very happy".  I almost started gushing over how happy I was to see them enjoying the afternoon, but thought that would be a little much for a couple I had just laid eyes on.  I opted for saying, "I'm always happy.  No, that's not true.  I'm happy I get to do what I do everyday."  The last part was more true than the previous because I am not happy all the time.  We chatted for a few minutes while I was waiting for the social worker.  It was wonderful.  I was almost giddy.  I don't even know why they made me giddy.  It was something about a sweet older couple for all intents and purposes sitting on their front porch.  Even though it wasn't home and they'd only moved there 3 weeks ago, they were together, enjoying each other's company.  It was sweet in its own way.

Day 55: Happiness

Today I road alongside one of the wonderful hospice nurses from the Davie County office.  She is a bundle of energy and so loves her job.  She also is a fantastic singer.  One of the patient's we saw had moved up from Florida and was in a bit of a funk.  The nurse went about with the admission, completing the initial calls for the needed equipment, medications, etc.  As she was working, she would sing to herself (not in her best singing voice).  At one point the patient made a comment about how her parents should have saved their money on her voice lessons.  She looked at the patient and said, "I'll sing you an Italian aria".  The patient thought she was joking.  I knew better.  She stands up and sings a full Italian aria in the living room.  To see the patient's face of complete shock was priceless.  At the end, he gave a standing ovation.  He had gone from the sadness of his current situation to complete shock and joy at hearing the nurse's beautiful voice.  It was truly a wonderful and delightful sight to see.  I was so thrilled by his enthusiasm, and I know it helped the nurse build rapport quickly.  He is never going to forget the person who sang an aria for him in his living room, and he will likely continue to tell that story to whomever he can.  It made for an exciting day.

Days 52-54: Support

Friday was one of those days where I truly felt like I was in my element.  It's a strange feeling when knowing that it means I am at the bedside of a dying person, supporting the family through the dying process.  While I think the 8th grade version of myself knew that I would be giving back to families at the end of their loved ones life, I don't think there was any way for me to fully comprehend what that would entail.  I don't know that I ever imagined having the level of comfort with death that I do.  Yet here I am, feeling more connected with the dying that I sometimes feel with the living.  There is something to be said when a family calls panicked because they aren't sure if they are doing the right thing or if what they are observing is the dying of the loved one.  To go to them, to see what they are seeing, and to guide them through this process feels like what the medical team must feel like during birth.  In the birthing process, the nurses and doctors guide the family through the birth of the child.  Years and years later, I help guide those children through the death of their parent.  It's a reverent time.  I become a temporary family member.  It's an honor I don't always feel I deserve.  If I can take the panic out of the loved ones voices and gently coach them in the care they are providing.  If I can make sure they understand the great deed they are performing in caring for their loved one, then I have done my job at the end of the day.  If more people can die peacefully because of my help, then I have done my job to the best of my ability.

Day 51: 200th Post

This will mark my 200th post since starting this blog in 2006.  I can't believe it's been over 10 years since I started this in college as a way to share my creative writing.  It is also amazing the way that it has morphed over the years.  The tangential lines still build my story, but my story has changed in ways I could not have foreseen as a second-semester freshman.  I am proud of who I am and who I am becoming.  I hope my future self still says that in another 10 years.  I am excited and nervous about starting a new job in the coming year.  I may be at the same job in 10 years, I may not.  I hope I am still happy wherever I may be.

Days 49-50: Vulnerability

Once a month, I have a narrative medicine prompt I have to write about.  This months was vulnerability.  I re-watched Brene Brown's Ted Talk on "The Power of Vulnerability".  It made me think back to some of the discussions in group during addiction medicine week last week.  One of the things that became a recurring theme was the importance of connection.  The purpose of meetings was not only to work the 12-step program but also to connect.  One of the things that Brene talked about was that "shame is the fear of disconnection" while vulnerability is the premise that "in order for connection to happen, we have to allow ourselves to be really seen".  Unfortunately, in our attempts to numb vulnerability and bad emotions, we end up becoming more disconnected.  In a society with addiction constantly portrayed negatively in the media, it is incredibly difficult for anyone recovering from addiction of any kind to practice "excruciating vulnerability" leaving them open to the vicious cycle that is loneliness leading to further drive to numb the negative emotion with the drug of choice.  The beauty of meetings is the ability to safely practice vulnerability allowing connections to be made and progress on recovery.  In essence, "excruciating vulnerability" is the Higher Power, the connection, that allows healing.  The meetings come with the premise that "life is messy, let's help each other by sharing our messy stories".  It does not try to perfect or make things certain.  It teaches the ideals of the "wholehearted people" who believe they are worthy, who show courage, and compassion for themselves before others.  The meetings acknowledge that while, during active using, people pretend their actions don't harm others, when in reality they do.  The act of making amends during the step program calls upon the fact that our actions do effect those around us, and especially the people who care the most about us.  It was fascinating listening to Brene and having these connections begin to form while listening to her talk.  It's like she interviewed everyone who had gone through AA and figured out what had been realized with the first 100 people that went through AA.  I think another takeaway from both Brene's talk on vulnerability and groups like AA is that everyone needs to find a community or group that they feel safe practicing "excruciating vulnerability" with in order to build connections and understand their worthiness.  I have yet to fully figure out how to fit this into my life, but I think I should start with the realization that my need for perfection and stress eating are my addictions used to numb vulnerability.  As Brene stated, and was a theme in the movie "Inside Out", you have to take the good with the bad, the happy with the sad, no emotion exists in isolation.

Day 48: Eclipse

Today was the "Great American Eclipse", as in, the eclipse was visible coast to coast.  It may also be that not all countries get quite as excited as we do here in the US.  I remember getting to see a partial eclipse when I was in first grade in 1994.  The total eclipse was far west of where I lived, and when it was at its peak, I did not have a permission slip signed, so I had to wait to get home and use the pinhole box my dad had made for me to see the remnants.  It was still fun.  Today felt similar to that.  I did not plan ahead and get eclipse glasses months ago in preparation.  I don't even know that I thought the news was real until last week.  By that time, there was no getting glasses.  I was lucky enough to get off work early.  I tried making a pinhole box that did not work.  I tried poking a hole in aluminum foil and shining it on a piece of paper.  That didn't work either.  I was feverishly looking around on google images to figure out what I was supposed to be seeing, and stumbled on one random image of someone holding up a sieve on the side of their house to view the crescents.  So I ran inside and got a sieve thinking that this might work, and if it didn't, at least I tried.  Shining the light through the holes in the bottom of the sieve projected at least a hundred tiny crescents on the wall.  I've been telling people that while they all watched one eclipse, I watched hundreds.  It was mesmerizing.  What was even more interesting was how nature responded.  Odie didn't know where to lie down outside because it wasn't sunny.  Boris sauntered into the kitchen because he wasn't sure but thought it might be time to eat.  Julia was the only one who didn't react.  Outside, the crickets were deafening.  It was louder than it normally is at night.  Or, it was the same loudness, but I was trying to listen for it.  I may not have been at a location with a total eclipse view, but I enjoyed my hundred eclipses through my sieve in the backyard with the chance to listen to nature's response.  I feel like, in some ways, it is similar to how we approach spirituality.  We do not look directly at the Higher Power, but rather, either through a lens or only at his shadow.  We see wonder even though there is a filter.  Like in Eben Alexander's book, Proof of Heaven, we cannot fully comprehend the beauty of creation without having something to tone down the strength of the greatness.  Life is a filter, but we can still find ways to catch glimpses of the grandness of creation, like in the way we all stopped, looked, and listened today.  I hope to find more of these glimpses, even if it is only the shadow of the true grandeur.

Days 45-47: Hospice

So many people give me a funny look and a, "I could never do that.  My heart's too big" when I mention that my life's calling is to work as a hospice physician.  Most of the time, I give a half smile and try not to bristle at the insinuation that the only way to work in hospice is to have a Grinch-sized heart.  I realize that their comments may not be as they sound, but it still can by annoying to hear.  I realize now that many people succumb to the sadness of death.  It's the completeness of death, the fact that there is nothing more to be done to see that person again in this reality.  Death is hard.  I am not confessing that I am immune to its sadness, to the "what ifs" and regrets of what should have been done before the loved one died.  Sometimes, I wish that I had spent more time with my grandmother before she passed away.  Sometimes I wish that I had been able to spend more time with my first cat, Chewy.  I wish I'd had more time to get to know LOML's grandfather.  These are the "selfish" parts of me where the gain would be so I could feel better at the end of the day.  In reality, I did well by each of these people and creature before they died.  They each lived wonderful lives, had great accomplishments, and were allowed to pass peacefully in the end.  While the people I care for in hospice are not my direct family, I do get to know their families.  I feel like I become part of their inner circles.  I am saddened when they pass, but I am honored to be allowed to care for them in such an intimate and sacred moment in time with them and their families.  It is the honor I hold on to in being able to treat each person with dignity and respect in a healthcare system that can easily strip them of it.  Getting this brief moment in time to care for a person and his or her family, to hold their hands, and guide them through the process.  This is indescribable.  It fills my spirit to care for these people on hospice because I know I have made a difference when a family that is scared and feels that medicine has turned their backs on them can find me there, not afraid of where the journey will end.  Death is not the enemy, suffering is.  In a way, I am likely still being selfish in finding light in the darkness, but I am giving back to other families the time that I was given with my grandmother when she was on hospice.  This is so vitally important to who I am as a person and a doctor.  I cannot deny the roots that led to my career choice.

Days 43-44: Spirituality

I have spent the last four days rotating through various recovery groups.  It has been an eye opening, and difficult few days mentally and emotionally.  I tend to be one to try to take on and understand what it must be like to be in my patients shoes.  I think this is, in part, why I wasn't able to do something like psychiatry for a long term career.  I would spend too much time trying to think like my patients that it would become overwhelming.  I think having gone through my paternal grandmother's time on hospice and working with my mom's parents through the aging process, it has helped make it easier for me in my chosen field.  I have past experiences to draw on instead of having to imagine what it must be like.  I sometimes have issues not taking on what I think my patient's are thinking.

One of the things that has been a big discussion is spirituality and what this means in the context of recovery.  It means different things to different people, and there are different ways of practicing it.  One of the biggest themes is connectedness.  Spirituality is viewed as a deeper connection to the world around you as well as ways to connect with the people you encounter, to find a way to better them in some way.  It comes from a similar principle that my mom teaches that, no matter what 'it' is, you leave it in better shape than when you first encountered it.  While I am not an addict (except when it comes to sugar), I feel like I connected with some of the people that where in the groups that I went to over the last few days.  I want so badly for them to continue on their road to recovery, and I wish there was more I could do to help them with their journey.  I feel like there is little that I can do.  I have never been in their same position.  I don't have experiences that I can draw on.  I have no way of supporting them the way that they need supporting.  It was an honor to be allowed into their inner circle but I still feel like an intruder.  It's this pull between wanting to know how to better support them and not wanting to impose my needs on their time for fellowship and recovery as a group.  It's a feeling of powerlessness that I am not used to.  I want to feel like I can make connections and be part of the support, growth, and recovery.  I have been given the opportunity to return over the next couple weeks to see the progress.  I'm hoping to have a chance to figure out where I can help further.

Day 42: Beliefs

It is interesting how narrow minded we can sometimes become when we are completely entrenched in our one field of medicine.  For example, the physician who runs the addiction medicine program in psychiatry believes that all people with pain should be on buprenorphine, an opioid that is used in people with substance use disorder.  It seemed to me that she felt that no matter the reason for someone's pain or need for pain medication, regardless of the amount of medication they may need for their pain, they should be on a medication that has a very low threshold for its maximum therapeutic dose.  While I am a huge proponent of being thoughtful in regards to helping work with patients on best treatment options, even if they aren't opioids, I think like anything, we cannot make broad, sweeping statements about treatment options.  Just like with any disease, there are certain medications that are used in certain situations.  We are taught that there is a hierarchy, even in cancer pain which is the one area that opioids are approved for use.  Even there, we start with more benign medications before escalating.  We recommend non-pharmacologic interventions to be done along with medications.  There is a great deal of counseling before starting someone on opioids.  It is not a decision taken lightly.  In the same vein, there is no one medication that is right for everyone.  There is as much harm done in under-treating as in over-treating.  There is a reason why interventional pain and palliative medicine fellowships exist, and it is to have people who are more thoughtfully trained in discerning the best pain management approach and working as a team, especially with people who are at risk for developing or have a history of substance abuse disorder.  I am not going to put my foot down and say I will only prescribe one medication and leave myself in a place where someone is suffering because of my rash decision.  That is not the purpose of the extra training.

Day 41: Violation of Privacy

I feel like I've stepped into the inner circle of the life of someone I know without their permission.  During one of my activities for this week, I was privy to the personal story of a counselor's battle with sobriety.  As the person was telling their story, it suddenly dawned on me that I'm fairly certain I know one of the people in the individual's life.  I felt like I was learning intimate details that I was not supposed to know.  The person that I had known previously never mentioned the counselor.  I feel like I should have signed a waiver or gotten permission before sitting in on the session.  I realize that I had no way of knowing what was going to be said.  There was no way to plan for the events that unfolded.  I didn't even realize, until today, the connection between the two.  Now, I can't unlearn what I know.  There is a heaviness on my soul, like I need to divulge what I've learned and ask for forgiveness for hearing it.  The logical part of me knows that the first person will not be upset for finding out what I've learned, but the irrational part feels like it's walking through a field of landmines with no way of knowing when a misstep will occur.  I could have never imagined finding myself in this situation, and now I'm not entirely sure what, if anything, I should do.

Days 38-40: Sleep Deprivation

I realized yesterday that I have two blog posts with the same title within less than a week of each other.  While that can, in part, be chalked up to sleep deprivation, it is more likely a reflection on what is high priority right now.  While I would still consider it early in the academic year of my current HPM fellowship, of the rotations I've done over the years, the one place I am always sad to leave is hospice.  I realize to some that will sound crazy.  The thought of hospice typically conjures ideas of deep, soul-wrenching sadness on a regular basis.  How could someone want to be in a place such as that?  I think part of it, for me, is that I've seen the light and hope that hospice can bring back to a person and their family.  My paternal grandmother was a testament to that.  She went from being someone who suffered with severe nausea and fatigue from her chemotherapy to someone who could travel to enjoy her grandchildren.  I remember going to visit her as a kid, and having to go for two weeks at a time just to make sure we got one good week with her.  I remember the day trips my parents would take us on that I later learn coincided with "bad days" post-chemotherapy.  At the time, I was unaware of her suffering because she and my parents worked diligently to hide it from us grandchildren.  I realize now that, while those day trips were fun, they were one less day spent with my grandmother.  It is a shame that we lost them, but I am so thankful for the days that we got back through hospice.  I don't know that there would have been any other way for her to make the drive to Virginia to visit my brother, sister, and me.  Even though she required IV medications to treat her symptoms, she was comfortable and happy with us.  She was able to laugh and play and teach us the skills she had to share.  I could never be more thankful than for those days with her.  The thought of being able to do this for other grandchildren and grandparents is so unbelievably important to me.  This is what hospice is to me.  It is sad in knowing that I typically have such a short time with my patients to give them this opportunity, but the fact that I may be able to give them enough peace to enjoy their loved ones is unquestioningly worth it.  Even for those who are too close to death, we can help to ease their suffering.  It's a team effort, but it is so important to show patients, their loved ones, and other health professionals that death does not have to be the enemy or a failure.  It is as natural to life as our own birth.  Certainly, we all hope for more time than we have, but if life was unlimited, it would have very little meaning.  No matter how long my time is, I want to be able to use it to help the most people I can.  If I can ease a person's suffering, comfort their loved ones, and help support my fellow medical team, then I will have done what I set out to do in making a meaningful career.

Day 37: Who will I be?

I have finally had the chance to catch up a little on the work I need to do.  I have also decided to give myself a little bit of a break from extra shifts to reset.  Part of this includes doing a soul searching for what I want out of a future career.  I have to keep reminding myself that I will likely continue to grow and change my career throughout my time as a doctor.  What I decide on now does not have to hold strong through the next 40ish years of my career.  I need to have some idea, though, of what I want for the near future in order to start the job search.  I keep worrying that I'm going to cave to what everyone else wants of me.  I realize their thoughts and suggestions come from a place of love and wanting to help me reach my goals.  It's hard, though, to feel like I've changed so much without really letting on to how much I've changed.  Part of this weekend will be writing down what I foresee as the "dream job", what I want my footprint to be in medicine, and what I absolutely do not want to do at this time and which I can compromise on.  I currently have a list of potential places to start looking.  I'm just worried that I want to be able to do too many things or work too many other places.  I don't know if I will be able to have the mix that I want to have.  I can always start with the dream and then whittle down to the next best thing.  I may not be at WF initially, and I may still.  I may come back if I leave initially.  I can go pretty much anywhere I want to in the US to practice, though I will likely stay in NC, SC, or VA.  With that, I will spend some time this weekend (because I will actually have the time to do this) to review places to interview and my vision for the future.

Day 36: Motivation

It has been a busy five weeks of fellowship.  I feel like the work is never-ending, and even when I do take a break, I feel guilty for it.  I know this will eventually settle down, but for now, it's sapping my motivation to do much of anything.  I kind of want to go find a cave in the woods and disappear for a week to recuperate.  I realize how silly that sounds, but a vacation would be nice.  It's tough, though, because a week of my vacation is going to my honeymoon, and the other two weeks, for now, are being set aside for job interviews.  I am, of course, still trying to figure out where all I am going to interview.  Another thing to add to the growing list of tasks I have little time to get to.  Even if I did take a vacation, I would likely end up using it to do the non-clinical/educational work and career work I need to do.  Efficiency is also not always my forte.  I get distracted, likely in part due to the fact that a brain can only do so much before it needs to process all that's been shoved into it.  Maybe my issue is less a motivation issue and more a super-saturation issue.  This, too shall get better, likely not any time soon, though.

Day 35: Odie

Since I could not personally come up with any motivation tonight, my dog, Odie, has graciously taken on the task of writing for me (he asked for a picture to be taken as verification).  Since he has no ability to type well, he has asked that I do the typing for him.  He would like everyone to know that his favorite things are his balls, all 8 of them (he's not really sure how many he actually has as he can't count but estimates that 8 is a large number).  He also likes his bone that he stole from the "big dogs" AKA "horses" (he requests a note be made to state that these are the animals that LOML's brother keeps, and Odie doesn't like them when they don't listen to him).  Odie also is a food snob (my words, not his).  He just says that if the pointy-footed animals (the cats, Julia and Boris who may make an appearance in later posts) get special wet food, he should not be forced to have dry food mixed into his.  He also thinks that human food is better for him because that's what he gets when he goes to Grammy's house (LOML's parents's house).  He doesn't understand why I make him eat the "gross stuff".  He likes to run fast, so long as he is chasing after one of his balls, a bouncy thing (rabbit) or the other horses that live in the woods (deer).  As an aside, I do not know why all animals bigger than him are horses as he did not grow up on a farm before coming to live with us.  Finally, he states that his biggest annoyance outside his concerns about the "fine dining" is that we make him stay up too late and I want to pet him all the time.  He thinks that he should be treated like the independent, mature dog that he is (he's 4...).  He says he'd rather distract his daddy from playing video games by playing the "put my cheek on your face" game.  He thinks it's hilarious and doesn't understand why LOML and I are less inclined to enjoy the game.  Now he says it's his bedtime and he's been kept up too long to write this post.  Until tomorrow.

Day 34: Guilt

Guilt is a strong emotion.  It can wreak havoc on the precariously balanced system leading to stress and remorse.  I tend to fall into guilt easily.  I don't read as much as I should, so I feel guilty.  I relax too much which keeps me from reading like I should, so I feel guilty.  I take time to try to get more reading done, and feel guilty because I think I should be doing something else.  Someone else is upset because of their situation, and I feel guilty that I can't do more for them.  I take time out of clinic to answer a page, and feel guilty for not being able to help out in clinic.  I feel guilty for eating too much.  I feel guilty for not being able to help out around the house as much due to all the reading and work I have to do.  I feel guilty for getting distracted, not working out enough, not going to bed on time.  I feel guilty for feeling guilty.  It's a vicious cycle.  It doesn't make sense half the time.  In fact, I waste more time worrying and feeling guilty than it would take to do the things I am feeling guilty about.  I hope one day that I will find that I don't really care as much about what I think other people think I should be doing, and just be content with what I am able to do.  Until then, LOML still loves me and that's the most important part.

Days 31-33: Who Will I Be?

One of the things that I am supposed to contemplate this year is who I will be once I am done with training.  It is such a hard question to answer because I feel like I know so little of the fields I am in.  I know the training chunk, but what will that translate into once I am in the field?  I feel at a loss sometimes.  I want to be an educator.  I want to work in hospice.  I thought I wanted to do primary care, but sometimes the amount of homework is overwhelming.  While there would still be homework on inpatient, it feels like there is less of it.  Would that be where I am called to be?  As Frederick Buechner said, "The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet."  So where does that fall for me?  There needs to be a greater understanding earlier on that death is not a failure, that there is hope even when the aggressive attempts at curative treatment are no longer worth the risk.  Sometimes, I feel like I am climbing a mountain, and just when I think I've reached the pinnacle, a new rock face juts up in front of me.  I feel like I will never see the horizon again and know what my light will be.  Do I just jump in where I think it might be, and then switch if it turns out my calling is somewhere else in my fields of choice?  I feel so unsure of what I want.  I also feel like I haven't seen enough to know.  I likely won't see enough until I start my first job.  How do I even start to decide?  Should I have started asking these questions years ago?  Did I limit my soul-searching because of my blind belief that I would stay in the same medical institution for life?  Perhaps if I look at why I wanted to stay, I can find the veins that run throughout and use those as a guide to my chosen path.

Day 30: Criminal Minds Musings, Part I

At the beginning and end of each episode of Criminal Minds, one of the characters says a quote.  I picked out a few here and there that I liked.  This is the first one in what will hopefully be a series as the inspiration strikes:

"No man is happy without a delusion of some kind.  Delusions are as necessary to our happiness as realities." -Christian Nestell Bovee

I think this speaks to each of our inner story we have for ourselves.  In our personal dialogue, we are always the hero.  Regardless of what is actually happening in our lives, we find a way to spin things to our favor.  There are those of us who are self-deprecating.  We talk ourselves down as an unconscious way to get others to talk us up.  While we may still not feel like we are completely up to snuff, we temporarily feel like heroes for having other that see us so positively.  Then there are those who are certain that they can do nothing wrong.  Clearly it's someone else fault when things go badly.  We did not fail, someone else did.  Or those who believe that they are acting in the name of a higher being.  That they are in the right, no matter what, because they are acting in the name of their god.  Does it matter that they have to step on others?  Not if their calling is to be the best at other's expense.

What is fascinating is where the lines are drawn between rational and irrational delusions.  The space where someone's delusions become pathological and require treatment or therapy.  We all have our delusions, but some are held more tightly than others.  When do we need to let go, and when do we need to be committed for them?  It's a very fine line.  It takes all to build a society.  We are all going to create a story in our minds that has us as the hero, sometimes outside of reality, but as long as we can recognize the difference, we are okay.  Right?

Day 29: A Game of Telephone

Sometimes it is easier to take out frustration and anger over the telephone.  If you don't see the person on the other end, you can tear them down because you don't have to face their sadness and confusion.  I got chewed out over the phone today because of the anger and frustration of having symptoms to a terminal disease that has abysmal treatment options that don't really lead to any improvements in longevity.  I was initially hurt because I felt like I'd done something wrong despite the fact that I had called specifically to offer some potential symptom management options.  After talking with a multitude of people, and reflecting somewhat on my own, I wasn't what they were angry about.  It's the situation as a whole and the fact that there is no "instant relief" button.  It's the fact that none of what we're doing actually takes away the reason these symptoms are present in the first place.  I was the only doctor who had made successful contact with them, and therefore their anger and frustration at the terminal disease was directed at me.  Which sucks, but I'm pretty sure I would be angry, too, if I hadn't slept and felt terrible and felt completely out of control.  I hate not feeling like I have some idea of what to do to improve the situation.  I can imagine that is part of the callousness this afternoon.  I need to get to a point where, even when someone is hurt and angry at their situation and direct this at me, I realize that it is not actually about me at all.  I am only the sounding board, the path of least resistance to unload the charge.  It's like lightning during a storm, the charge builds up until it has no other choice but discharge on the easiest target in the area.  I just have to let the charge run through me and not touch me but reflect back the emotions and name the fears that are causing the strong emotions.

Day 28: Animals

Animals give unconditional love, mostly.  Except my Boris.  He is a large gray and white Siberian whose love is conditional on food.  The other animals do, in fact, provide unconditional love.  Odie, the black Chiweenie, is four, and lives to please LOML and me.  He cowers and is saddened when he thinks he has upset us.  He does this thing where, if LOML and I get into a lively discussion, he will come in between us, and put his cheek on one of our mouths to stop the discussion.  He thinks that we are angry, and does not like it.  He is such a sweet little boy.  His favorite thing to do is pretend he has to go outside to go to the bathroom.  Once out, he runs down the stairs and lies down in the grass with a huge smile on his face.  I think he is part cat based on his love for sunning.  He also with occasionally sit in the cat stand that we have (ours is a different color but similar design: PetSmart Cat Perch).  When he is relaxed, he gets squinty-eyed and sticks his tongue out.  He gets grumpy when he is tired.  At breakfast and dinner when the animals are fed, he stands on the arm of the sofa in the living room where he can look into the kitchen from a safe distance.  Boris gets very hangry and will start swatting at anything that moves until his food is put in front of him.  The youngest animal is sweet Julia who is a 2-year gray and white domestic medium hair with asthma.  You heard right, asthma.  As in, every so often we have to give her an inhaler use the AeroKat which is a fancy spacer.  She is such a sweet and quirky little girl, and definitely puts Boris in his place.  He was used to Chewy, my first cat who was a Maine Coon, who was declawed and thus could not properly defend himself.  Julia is clawed, like Boris, and will stand up to him.  They will also get in contests where they try to lick each other until one or the other has enough and starts biting (playfully).  At any rate, they are a wild bunch of animals who are truly glad to have LOML and me.  All are adopted.  All make long, emotionally difficult days of work easier when I get to come home and have three excited babies and one happy man waiting for me.  Odie and Boris will both try to get into my lap at once, and Julia keeps head-butting my leg and reaching her head up for kisses.  I'm always glad to get home to everyone.