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If you have a pet of any kind, you know the joy that pets bring into our lives. While they do come with a certain level of commitment and work, they offer benefits that far outweigh what they require of us. Now that I am six years into my primary chronic illness, sarcoidosis, I feel like I can discuss pet therapy with conviction. Prior to becoming "sick," I always had a pet - from childhood on. It wasn't really until I became ill, however, that I realized what my dogs had done for my mental health. My physical health has also improved thanks to being a pet-owner. Here are 10 ways owning a pet can help you with your chronic illness:
Charlie the Dachshund is always there for me. He will wait on me wherever I go and follow me no matter what. He needs my help to get his food, water, and to let him outside. It feels good to be needed by someone or something that doesn't really expect much in return, ESPECIALLY with a chronic illness. I can be sick, tired, or both in front of him and not feel self-conscious. I can tell him all my thoughts and fears, and he won't judge me. I can even moan out loud in pain or cry at my medical misfortune and he doesn't flinch. Instead, he meets me with loving kindness and is a steady force of calm in my daily life.
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At the end of the day. At the end of my life. When I'm old and gray. When I'm free from strife. I will smile every time I remember your face. And no one can take that from us. Godspeed. A recent blog reader commented on my pandemic lessons post with the comment "we are not all scared and trying to stay alive." I have had to sit with that for a few days. I am not scared of death... for many reasons... but a lot of it does have to do with my blood, sweat, and tears I have poured into countless patients for decades now... as well as my faith, but the two seem very intertwined when I think of my own mortality. I think another reason is that I have a chronic illness and I know end-stage pulmonary fibrosis (how my disease usually pans out) is not a cake walk, so if God calls me home at another time for another reason, I am okay with that. But, I think it's her last little bit of commentary that hasn't settled well in my soul. "We are not all trying to stay alive." We are not all trying to stay alive. 🤔 🤷♀️ 🧐 But aren't we, though? Isn't that why all of these scenarios insight fear, panic, palpitations, stomach-drops, sweaty palms, and often tears?
This post is not meant to be a Debbie Downer. It's meant to be a reality check for myself, and perhaps for you too. Every SINGLE day in my work, I encounter people I hold dear now after all these years that are FIGHTING to stay alive. Whether it is cancer, chronic disease, renal failure requiring dialysis, congenital or acquired physical disability (think MS, cerebral palsy, and paraplegia to name a few), OR they are in an unsafe home environment OR they are mentally on the brink of self-harm. they are each FIGHTING to stay alive. The following examples have all taken place in the past 2 years along with countless other patient deaths (some covid, some not), but these have rocked me. I lost my first patient to suicide this year and I am not the same. I always worried about him. I would leave our visits thinking about him. Did I do enough? I lost a close friend my age, someone I admired- so many admired- this past year to a 6-year battle with colon cancer, and I have tried to help my friend of 27 years keep herself and her children together during and after that loss. I am still learning - we all are. This is new territory for us. I lost a patient my age that was so much like me health-wise and personality-wise that it was like looking in the mirror every time we had our visits. We just happened to have different colored skin, but our hearts, fears, loves, and passions were so aligned. I was the one her son called while the nurses were "pounding on mama's chest" and I was the one weeping in my parents' backyard looking to the heavens begging God "please don't take her, she's not ready. Please don't take her, she's not ready. Please, please, please Lord don't take her yet." As I attended her funeral, it was like I was attending my own. I still think of her so very often. So yes, dear reader, I can agree that most of the time I choose not to live in fear. I have a "crappy" (it's my blog and I will almost-cuss if I want to) autoimmune disease that makes me feel lousy some days and fine other days. I take mouthfuls of medicine twice a day and my Humira costs could house a small family (thank you Aetna for your coverage). Occasionally, I "fear" not ever seeing my 2 youngest sons graduate high school or college. I "fear" never meeting my grandchildren, and sometimes I "fear" my precious boys having to take care of dear old Mom. I'm afraid I won't get to tell them everything I want them to know about me, about love, about God, about marriage, about friendship, about what truly matters, and about how to navigate the good days and the bad days. How to forgive, how to keep moving forward, and how to love themselves. Honestly, I think it is part of why I felt this huge push to write. They don't read my words now, but they might one day. But as for not trying to stay alive? I will disagree with every hair on my head, bone in my body, and adjective in my razor-sharp vocabulary on that friend. I AM TRYING EVERY SECOND OF EVERY DAY TO STAY ALIVE. And I stand witness and hold space for every other person I have cared for during my career in nursing and medicine who were all and are all still trying to do the same. I learned a new term today during a visit to Little Havana in Miami. It was made for the patriots who were anti-Castro who often became political prisoners. They were named "Plantados" - they stood planted, strong, unmoving, unwilling to step down. I am a Plantado for life, sister who made that comment. I shall never budge on that. I am here, showing up, every single day- trying to stay alive. I welcome my fellow Lifers. Let us make this world a little better each day. 🌎 Please help support my fellow Hope*Writers
by reading their work 🥰 Does Fear Have a Place in the Life of a Christian? By Regina Marcazzo-Skarka https://reginamarcazzoskarka.wordpress.com/?p=90 Living Fearless By Sharla Hallett www.sharlahallett.com/living-fearless/ I ain't afraid: Reflections on turning 50 By Jessica Weaver www.rootedunrooted.com/blog/i-aint-afraid When Hidden Fear Creeps Out By Dianne Vielhuber https://simplewordsoffaith.com/2021/10/31/when-hidden-fear-creeps-out/ How to Help Kids with Anxiety and Fear By Ashley Olivine https://louvaria.com/how-to-help-kids-with-anxiety-and-fear/ How to have an effective office visit with your provider: There are some tried and true ways to have a productive, meaningful visit with your medical provider. As a patient with a chronic illness AND a family nurse practitioner, I have the inside track.
If you need more frequent office visits, ask for them. Your provider is PAID to see you. Your insurance is billed for those visits where as most providers do not bill for phone calls or portal messages. If you end up needing them before your designated 3 or 6 month follow-up and you have more than 1-2 simple questions, PLEASE schedule an office visit. As a provider with complicated patients of my own, I would much rather have that patient in the office with me to have a discussion than to do multiple back-and-forths over the portal. It’s better patient care. AND my time is used wisely in my employer’s mindset. Medicine is a business. Although so many of us really do care!!! Healing people is wonderful. It’s challenging and rewarding and exhausting and sad and scary and exciting and mundane. It’s refills and phone calls and charts and labs. It’s insurance authorizations and having the same conversations with the same patients over and over and over again.
But it’s also seeing progress and growth and determination. It’s witnessing families come together and sometimes fall apart. It’s being a steady presence in the lives of what starts as strangers and ends as friends. Can we be friends? Am I your friend? I like you. I’m cheering for you. I want you to do well! I think of you and I pray for you. I laugh and I cry with you. I love seeing your pictures of your babies and your successes. My heart hurts when you hurt. Where are the boundaries? I don’t want you to have my cell number, but I want you to tell me when you need me. How does that work? What are the rules and who makes them? I don’t want to think of you as just a name or a number. I am invested in you and you in me. Working in a small town feels like home. It’s likely that I know your mom, your neighbor, your hairdresser, and your child’s teacher. I wouldn’t want it any other way. At the end of our time together, I want you to smile when you think of me. I will always smile when I think of you. Even if you didn’t heed my advice. Even if you missed too many appointments. Especially then, because you made me work harder. I want you to know I looked forward to walking in your room and seeing you just as you are, whatever you were going through. I am thankful you put your trust in me. I know you made me laugh at least once. I saw you, all of you. I think you saw me too and I’m okay with that. |