I can't tell you how many times in the last month and a half I have pondered what lesson Murray is here to compel me to learn. Patience? Compassion? To pay attention and live deliberately? Maybe all of those, plus a lot more. I could have a bad attitude about all of the processes that come part and parcel with a handicapped dog. I could be angry when he pees all over my house, or I could yell when I have to clean up poo that he bounced on as he barked to tell me he'd done it, thus it was time to go outside...two minutes earlier. Instead, I decided to be silly, and every time he makes little trails on the cheap rugs in my kitchen, I throw my hands in the air, and I exclaim, "Yay pee!" as if it were something to celebrate. And then I go for the paper towels and enzyme cleaner. He's not doing this to me to be mean. It's just his reality, and now it's mine. Going outside takes a long time, as I find it difficult and exhausting to get him into his wheels. He flops over a lot, and it's a struggle to get him to bend his elbows into the bridle, or for me to hold his legs in the air long enough to align them with the saddle. I wore a floor length skirt yesterday, and I am absolutely certain the bottom of it dragged through dribbles of pee while I wrestled with his wheels. As distasteful or tiring or frustrating as I find all of this, I find I absolutely cannot hold it against Murray. He didn't ask for this, and I can guarantee that given the choice, he would rather have control over his legs, so he could run and jump and play with Elsa and Bump as an equal.
Today's song came from a friend of mine. She posted it in tribute to yesterday's news of the death of Joe Cocker. It's a song I wasn't familiar with, and when I listened to it yesterday, it moved me greatly. I've known and adored this friend for almost 15 years, but I've only had the opportunity to spend time in her presence for one weekend ever. Still, it was terrifying to me and to several of us when she dropped out of digital sight suddenly two years ago, and we got word after a while that she had been in a major accident, in a coma for months. She has fought her way back, but she is still wheelchair-bound. She has a lift that allows her to "stand" with mechanical intervention for short periods of time, but it wears her out and isn't all that comfortable. Many times, when I'm watching Murray in his wheelchair, and thinking about how much work he is, and how much compassion he needs and deserves, I think about this friend. I get the idea that she identifies with Murray better than anyone else I know, and she has been able to put human words to things he is going through that no one else could ever tell me. It helps me remember to be patient with him, to see things from his side, when I imagine her voice in my head, explaining what he's feeling. I hope someday I can get the two of them together, Murray and my friend. I think he'd like meeting her, and I suspect she'd like him too.
After a really rough year and a half, not just for me but for many of my friends and family, I feel like things are picking up. It's been more than a month since my man finally came home, and after we spent a couple weeks circling around cautiously and eyeing each other like suspicious house cats who didn't recognize the stranger who just appeared, we are starting to relax and bond again. There are still weeks to go, but progress has been made on condo flood recovery. One of my friends gets to announce to her family tomorrow that after years of trying and facing setbacks, she is finally expecting a baby (I wish I could witness that Christmas surprise). My kids are getting their feet under them, professionally speaking, and I couldn't be prouder of them. We've faced a lot, all of us, and we made it through to the other side. I'm so glad I'm standing here today.
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