Wednesday, October 3, 2012

"For Your Most Kind Consideration: Approval, Satisfaction, Happiness, And...Joy!"


 

“For Your Most Kind Consideration: Approval, Satisfaction, Happiness, And…Joy!”

 

Part I of III

 

“Random Thoughts Without Words, Words Without Meaning, Meanings Without Understanding: The Process Begins”

 

 

10/03/12

 

 

To my dearest, wonderful friends, and patient, loyal readers,

 

I must confess to you—my dear friends—that I spend perhaps an inordinate amount of time out at the kitchen counter, sitting in a use-worn, second-hand ‘office chair, trying to relax (usually waiting for pain medication to take its effect), eyes closed, head resting on hand, quiet, in the contemplation of Life, and its many ramifications.

 

Sometimes I have a neglected and rapidly cooling cup of lousy coffee just before me; most often smoking a cigarette, while my dear canine—Daisy—is on the rug beside me, usually fast asleep. I imagine that she is pursuing her own imaginings, some similar to mine, some quite alien, I suppose.

 

I oftentimes wonder what happiness is, and why it seems to be such a transient, and elusive quality.

 

In a highly subjective consideration of causality—in a vague reference to A. Maslow’s “Hierarchy Of Needs”—in its most simple interpretation, needs can be divided, most conveniently into subsets: those of the animal/physical, and those of the cerebral/spiritual; and along these two different (though, not necessarily mutually exclusive!) poles can be charted the span of human development, from base need satisfaction, to the cerebral concept of happiness, to the more ephemeral latitudes of the Spirit which begin—ostensibly—with joy, until an absolute state of Nirvana, or ‘Bliss’ is experienced.

 

Admittedly, the latter concerns heady stuff, indeed!

 

However, it must be stated that, although we—perhaps—yearn for that celebratory reaction which elicits in us feelings of joy and elation, in the conduct of our ‘normal’, everyday lives, we settle easily upon those strategies, plans, directions, and intentions that sound in us some large measure of reactive happiness; failing that, how often do we settle upon that which merely satisfies?  Or that which is ‘event’ oriented, and temporal, locked into time and place, to be repeated over and over again.

 

As an example of animal/physical satisfaction as related to repetitive need, I would ask of you—my dear, dear friends to consider hunger/nutrition/satisfaction. 

 

At differing times of the day, we usually experience the feelings of hunger. It is an animal/physical need, as it is a regular part of the life cycle.

 

When we experience hunger, the most obvious reaction is to find some sort of nourishment that will answer to the need, and thus ‘satisfy’ it.  The body is not particularly choosy; it will gladly accept almost anything, whether it be a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, to a five-course, gourmet dinner! 

 

For the body to be satisfied, in this one regard, hunger—as an hierarchic need—is sated easily by:

1)           Food

A)        Safe and not dangerous to eat,

B)        In sufficient quantities to insure health and functioning.

 

And in too many parts of the world—regrettably—happiness, or unhappiness, or survival, even can be stated thusly:

1)           Hunger/Food/Survival=Happiness

2)           Hunger/Starvation/Death=Unhappiness

 

But as has evidenced in most cultures as a whole, in general, and Western Cultures (America, and to a slightly lesser degree, all English-speaking cultures, in particular), our perception of happiness is almost solely influenced by the phenomenon of almost endless ‘choice’.

 

I once idly complained to a friend that while I was to a degree hungry, still I did not know what to have for supper, and—in fact—did not even remotely feel like cooking.

 

My friend thought for a second and then asked me if I had ever ‘missed a meal’? To which I would add if you have ever found yourself staring vacantly at the open kitchen cupboards, and cannot—within a reasonable amount of time (for our purposes, say, 30-40 seconds), decide what to prepare, then you have choices, options, often to that which can be prepared in the least amount of time! (This is NOT to be confused with finding NO food there!).

 

Further, how often have we groused about having to eat bologna sandwiches when we actually ‘have’ a taste for steak; and that this dissatisfaction causes us to be quite unhappy.  Especially if we believe that the neighbors have steak at least once a week.  How tempting is that aroma of meat cooked on an outside grill?

 

In truth, for survival’s sake, we require basically three things, in order of immediate importance:

1)           Air to breathe

2)           Potable water

3)           Edible food

 

Edible food means only that; it does not mean steak, or lobster, or whatever.  Tonight—for example—I found myself only marginally hungry; I knew—however—that if I did not find something to eat before I went to bed, my blood glucose level would cause me to feel dizzy, diaphoretic (sweaty), light-headed, slow of thought, and response, and generally miserable.

 

What I finally put together was one of my long-time favorites: a bologna and nacho-flavored ‘Dorito’ sandwich!, with diet, decaf. Arizona iced tea with honey and ginseng. No…it was not steak, even if I had wanted steak.  But, dear friends, it did not HAVE to be steak.  At the time, my subsequent feeling of happiness concerned a feeling of relative fullness, the matter of taste, and the consequent ‘healthy’ levels of blood glucose, and the satisfaction one feels systemically when levels are kept within normal limits.

 

However, as I have seen in my own life, and in others at MDJunction, and elsewhere is a shift in priorities in meeting hierarchical needs, and any feelings of satisfaction, happiness, or joy associated with them.

 

I—for example—am disabled, ill, in frequent unutterable pain, on oxygen and tons of medical medications, some psychotropic medications for ‘anxiety/panic attacks’, and depression/agoraphobia, and—probably—four or five medications for pain, only.

 

Were I to list all the medications that I take—and the majority of which I must continue to take, including those medications I take ‘as needed’ for specific complaints—you would doubtless think me over-medicated, and—reasonably—I could not, in truth, say that you were wrong in your assumption.  I would have to argue—though—that many help sustain my health and wellbeing, and ability to function (even at a much-reduced level).

 

And so, even though my medications as a aggregate amounts to—perhaps—10-20% of my monthly income.

 

I also rely—most heavily—upon my oxygen concentrator, nebulizer, and tanks of oxygen.

 

Out of necessity, I have had to re-order the hierarchy of my needs, to wit:

 

While I could go several days, possibly as long as a week—or even slightly more—without food (as might figuratively be a concern nearer the end of any particular month), it might well be argued that I could not breathe without my oxygen equipment.

 

One may, of course successfully argue—according my own listed need hierarchy—that air to breathe does logically rank before the need for edible, sufficient food.

 

I would like to suggest to you a variation on need primacy.  Since I am oxygen dependent upon external generating equipment and/or supplies, I could not long withstand (comfortably, at least!) having to live without electricity.

 

For me—then—there is a greater ‘need’ to be able to pay the electric bill each month, when the bill for such usage could be placed with other such bills, of a primacy LOWER than that of purchasing food!

 

This is what I have observed occurring more and more often these days (especially when disability, prolonged illness(es), etc. coincide with severely reduced incomes, inability to provide for children or self, and forced lack of access to medical care) is that—in consequence—nearly everyone is miserable to one degree or another, unsatisfied with what is left of the ‘status quo’, and reeling, quite unable to successfully problem solve, or to willingly make changes in order to adapt and to survive.

 

And it is out of these feelings of paralysis and hopelessness, and the inability to cope or to thrive that we find ourselves unhappy, sad, and depressed.

 

We ruefully discover that we are too busy trying to meet daily physical needs.  Scarce attention is paid to the goal of personal happiness, and, much less—still—to be able to experience joy, elation, or the proper nourishment of the soul.

 

End of  Part I

Part II of IV to follow

 

My very dearest friends, and wonderfully loyal readers, please know that I think of you so very often, and that I love you so very, very dearly!

 

 

‘Zahc’/Charles

"For Your Most Kind Consideration: Approval, Satisfaction, Happiness, And...Joy!"


 

“For Your Most Kind Consideration: Approval, Satisfaction, Happiness, And…Joy!”

 

Part I of III

 

“Random Thoughts Without Words, Words Without Meaning, Meanings Without Understanding: The Process Begins”

 

 

10/03/12

 

 

To my dearest, wonderful friends, and patient, loyal readers,

 

I must confess to you—my dear friends—that I spend perhaps an inordinate amount of time out at the kitchen counter, sitting in a use-worn, second-hand ‘office chair, trying to relax (usually waiting for pain medication to take its effect), eyes closed, head resting on hand, quiet, in the contemplation of Life, and its many ramifications.

 

Sometimes I have a neglected and rapidly cooling cup of lousy coffee just before me; most often smoking a cigarette, while my dear canine—Daisy—is on the rug beside me, usually fast asleep. I imagine that she is pursuing her own imaginings, some similar to mine, some quite alien, I suppose.

 

I oftentimes wonder what happiness is, and why it seems to be such a transient, and elusive quality.

 

In a highly subjective consideration of causality—in a vague reference to A. Maslow’s “Hierarchy Of Needs”—in its most simple interpretation, needs can be divided, most conveniently into subsets: those of the animal/physical, and those of the cerebral/spiritual; and along these two different (though, not necessarily mutually exclusive!) poles can be charted the span of human development, from base need satisfaction, to the cerebral concept of happiness, to the more ephemeral latitudes of the Spirit which begin—ostensibly—with joy, until an absolute state of Nirvana, or ‘Bliss’ is experienced.

 

Admittedly, the latter concerns heady stuff, indeed!

 

However, it must be stated that, although we—perhaps—yearn for that celebratory reaction which elicits in us feelings of joy and elation, in the conduct of our ‘normal’, everyday lives, we settle easily upon those strategies, plans, directions, and intentions that sound in us some large measure of reactive happiness; failing that, how often do we settle upon that which merely satisfies?  Or that which is ‘event’ oriented, and temporal, locked into time and place, to be repeated over and over again.

 

As an example of animal/physical satisfaction as related to repetitive need, I would ask of you—my dear, dear friends to consider hunger/nutrition/satisfaction. 

 

At differing times of the day, we usually experience the feelings of hunger. It is an animal/physical need, as it is a regular part of the life cycle.

 

When we experience hunger, the most obvious reaction is to find some sort of nourishment that will answer to the need, and thus ‘satisfy’ it.  The body is not particularly choosy; it will gladly accept almost anything, whether it be a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, to a five-course, gourmet dinner! 

 

For the body to be satisfied, in this one regard, hunger—as an hierarchic need—is sated easily by:

1)           Food

A)        Safe and not dangerous to eat,

B)        In sufficient quantities to insure health and functioning.

 

And in too many parts of the world—regrettably—happiness, or unhappiness, or survival, even can be stated thusly:

1)           Hunger/Food/Survival=Happiness

2)           Hunger/Starvation/Death=Unhappiness

 

But as has evidenced in most cultures as a whole, in general, and Western Cultures (America, and to a slightly lesser degree, all English-speaking cultures, in particular), our perception of happiness is almost solely influenced by the phenomenon of almost endless ‘choice’.

 

I once idly complained to a friend that while I was to a degree hungry, still I did not know what to have for supper, and—in fact—did not even remotely feel like cooking.

 

My friend thought for a second and then asked me if I had ever ‘missed a meal’? To which I would add if you have ever found yourself staring vacantly at the open kitchen cupboards, and cannot—within a reasonable amount of time (for our purposes, say, 30-40 seconds), decide what to prepare, then you have choices, options, often to that which can be prepared in the least amount of time! (This is NOT to be confused with finding NO food there!).

 

Further, how often have we groused about having to eat bologna sandwiches when we actually ‘have’ a taste for steak; and that this dissatisfaction causes us to be quite unhappy.  Especially if we believe that the neighbors have steak at least once a week.  How tempting is that aroma of meat cooked on an outside grill?

 

In truth, for survival’s sake, we require basically three things, in order of immediate importance:

1)           Air to breathe

2)           Potable water

3)           Edible food

 

Edible food means only that; it does not mean steak, or lobster, or whatever.  Tonight—for example—I found myself only marginally hungry; I knew—however—that if I did not find something to eat before I went to bed, my blood glucose level would cause me to feel dizzy, diaphoretic (sweaty), light-headed, slow of thought, and response, and generally miserable.

 

What I finally put together was one of my long-time favorites: a bologna and nacho-flavored ‘Dorito’ sandwich!, with diet, decaf. Arizona iced tea with honey and ginseng. No…it was not steak, even if I had wanted steak.  But, dear friends, it did not HAVE to be steak.  At the time, my subsequent feeling of happiness concerned a feeling of relative fullness, the matter of taste, and the consequent ‘healthy’ levels of blood glucose, and the satisfaction one feels systemically when levels are kept within normal limits.

 

However, as I have seen in my own life, and in others at MDJunction, and elsewhere is a shift in priorities in meeting hierarchical needs, and any feelings of satisfaction, happiness, or joy associated with them.

 

I—for example—am disabled, ill, in frequent unutterable pain, on oxygen and tons of medical medications, some psychotropic medications for ‘anxiety/panic attacks’, and depression/agoraphobia, and—probably—four or five medications for pain, only.

 

Were I to list all the medications that I take—and the majority of which I must continue to take, including those medications I take ‘as needed’ for specific complaints—you would doubtless think me over-medicated, and—reasonably—I could not, in truth, say that you were wrong in your assumption.  I would have to argue—though—that many help sustain my health and wellbeing, and ability to function (even at a much-reduced level).

 

And so, even though my medications as a aggregate amounts to—perhaps—10-20% of my monthly income.

 

I also rely—most heavily—upon my oxygen concentrator, nebulizer, and tanks of oxygen.

 

Out of necessity, I have had to re-order the hierarchy of my needs, to wit:

 

While I could go several days, possibly as long as a week—or even slightly more—without food (as might figuratively be a concern nearer the end of any particular month), it might well be argued that I could not breathe without my oxygen equipment.

 

One may, of course successfully argue—according my own listed need hierarchy—that air to breathe does logically rank before the need for edible, sufficient food.

 

I would like to suggest to you a variation on need primacy.  Since I am oxygen dependent upon external generating equipment and/or supplies, I could not long withstand (comfortably, at least!) having to live without electricity.

 

For me—then—there is a greater ‘need’ to be able to pay the electric bill each month, when the bill for such usage could be placed with other such bills, of a primacy LOWER than that of purchasing food!

 

This is what I have observed occurring more and more often these days (especially when disability, prolonged illness(es), etc. coincide with severely reduced incomes, inability to provide for children or self, and forced lack of access to medical care) is that—in consequence—nearly everyone is miserable to one degree or another, unsatisfied with what is left of the ‘status quo’, and reeling, quite unable to successfully problem solve, or to willingly make changes in order to adapt and to survive.

 

And it is out of these feelings of paralysis and hopelessness, and the inability to cope or to thrive that we find ourselves unhappy, sad, and depressed.

 

We ruefully discover that we are too busy trying to meet daily physical needs.  Scarce attention is paid to the goal of personal happiness, and, much less—still—to be able to experience joy, elation, or the proper nourishment of the soul.

 

End of  Part I

Parts II & III to follow

 

My very dearest friends, and wonderfully loyal readers, please know that I think of you so very often, and that I love you so very, very dearly!

 

 

‘Zahc’

 

“For Your Most Kind Consideration: Approval, Satisfaction, Happiness, And…Joy!”

 

Part I of III

 

“Random Thoughts Without Words, Words Without Meaning, Meanings Without Understanding: The Process Begins”

 

 

10/03/12

 

 

To my dearest, wonderful friends, and patient, loyal readers,

 

I must confess to you—my dear friends—that I spend perhaps an inordinate amount of time out at the kitchen counter, sitting in a use-worn, second-hand ‘office chair, trying to relax (usually waiting for pain medication to take its effect), eyes closed, head resting on hand, quiet, in the contemplation of Life, and its many ramifications.

 

Sometimes I have a neglected and rapidly cooling cup of lousy coffee just before me; most often smoking a cigarette, while my dear canine—Daisy—is on the rug beside me, usually fast asleep. I imagine that she is pursuing her own imaginings, some similar to mine, some quite alien, I suppose.

 

I oftentimes wonder what happiness is, and why it seems to be such a transient, and elusive quality.

 

In a highly subjective consideration of causality—in a vague reference to A. Maslow’s “Hierarchy Of Needs”—in its most simple interpretation, needs can be divided, most conveniently into subsets: those of the animal/physical, and those of the cerebral/spiritual; and along these two different (though, not necessarily mutually exclusive!) poles can be charted the span of human development, from base need satisfaction, to the cerebral concept of happiness, to the more ephemeral latitudes of the Spirit which begin—ostensibly—with joy, until an absolute state of Nirvana, or ‘Bliss’ is experienced.

 

Admittedly, the latter concerns heady stuff, indeed!

 

However, it must be stated that, although we—perhaps—yearn for that celebratory reaction which elicits in us feelings of joy and elation, in the conduct of our ‘normal’, everyday lives, we settle easily upon those strategies, plans, directions, and intentions that sound in us some large measure of reactive happiness; failing that, how often do we settle upon that which merely satisfies?  Or that which is ‘event’ oriented, and temporal, locked into time and place, to be repeated over and over again.

 

As an example of animal/physical satisfaction as related to repetitive need, I would ask of you—my dear, dear friends to consider hunger/nutrition/satisfaction. 

 

At differing times of the day, we usually experience the feelings of hunger. It is an animal/physical need, as it is a regular part of the life cycle.

 

When we experience hunger, the most obvious reaction is to find some sort of nourishment that will answer to the need, and thus ‘satisfy’ it.  The body is not particularly choosy; it will gladly accept almost anything, whether it be a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, to a five-course, gourmet dinner! 

 

For the body to be satisfied, in this one regard, hunger—as an hierarchic need—is sated easily by:

1)           Food

A)        Safe and not dangerous to eat,

B)        In sufficient quantities to insure health and functioning.

 

And in too many parts of the world—regrettably—happiness, or unhappiness, or survival, even can be stated thusly:

1)           Hunger/Food/Survival=Happiness

2)           Hunger/Starvation/Death=Unhappiness

 

But as has evidenced in most cultures as a whole, in general, and Western Cultures (America, and to a slightly lesser degree, all English-speaking cultures, in particular), our perception of happiness is almost solely influenced by the phenomenon of almost endless ‘choice’.

 

I once idly complained to a friend that while I was to a degree hungry, still I did not know what to have for supper, and—in fact—did not even remotely feel like cooking.

 

My friend thought for a second and then asked me if I had ever ‘missed a meal’? To which I would add if you have ever found yourself staring vacantly at the open kitchen cupboards, and cannot—within a reasonable amount of time (for our purposes, say, 30-40 seconds), decide what to prepare, then you have choices, options, often to that which can be prepared in the least amount of time! (This is NOT to be confused with finding NO food there!).

 

Further, how often have we groused about having to eat bologna sandwiches when we actually ‘have’ a taste for steak; and that this dissatisfaction causes us to be quite unhappy.  Especially if we believe that the neighbors have steak at least once a week.  How tempting is that aroma of meat cooked on an outside grill?

 

In truth, for survival’s sake, we require basically three things, in order of immediate importance:

1)           Air to breathe

2)           Potable water

3)           Edible food

 

Edible food means only that; it does not mean steak, or lobster, or whatever.  Tonight—for example—I found myself only marginally hungry; I knew—however—that if I did not find something to eat before I went to bed, my blood glucose level would cause me to feel dizzy, diaphoretic (sweaty), light-headed, slow of thought, and response, and generally miserable.

 

What I finally put together was one of my long-time favorites: a bologna and nacho-flavored ‘Dorito’ sandwich!, with diet, decaf. Arizona iced tea with honey and ginseng. No…it was not steak, even if I had wanted steak.  But, dear friends, it did not HAVE to be steak.  At the time, my subsequent feeling of happiness concerned a feeling of relative fullness, the matter of taste, and the consequent ‘healthy’ levels of blood glucose, and the satisfaction one feels systemically when levels are kept within normal limits.

 

However, as I have seen in my own life, and in others at MDJunction, and elsewhere is a shift in priorities in meeting hierarchical needs, and any feelings of satisfaction, happiness, or joy associated with them.

 

I—for example—am disabled, ill, in frequent unutterable pain, on oxygen and tons of medical medications, some psychotropic medications for ‘anxiety/panic attacks’, and depression/agoraphobia, and—probably—four or five medications for pain, only.

 

Were I to list all the medications that I take—and the majority of which I must continue to take, including those medications I take ‘as needed’ for specific complaints—you would doubtless think me over-medicated, and—reasonably—I could not, in truth, say that you were wrong in your assumption.  I would have to argue—though—that many help sustain my health and wellbeing, and ability to function (even at a much-reduced level).

 

And so, even though my medications as a aggregate amounts to—perhaps—10-20% of my monthly income.

 

I also rely—most heavily—upon my oxygen concentrator, nebulizer, and tanks of oxygen.

 

Out of necessity, I have had to re-order the hierarchy of my needs, to wit:

 

While I could go several days, possibly as long as a week—or even slightly more—without food (as might figuratively be a concern nearer the end of any particular month), it might well be argued that I could not breathe without my oxygen equipment.

 

One may, of course successfully argue—according my own listed need hierarchy—that air to breathe does logically rank before the need for edible, sufficient food.

 

I would like to suggest to you a variation on need primacy.  Since I am oxygen dependent upon external generating equipment and/or supplies, I could not long withstand (comfortably, at least!) having to live without electricity.

 

For me—then—there is a greater ‘need’ to be able to pay the electric bill each month, when the bill for such usage could be placed with other such bills, of a primacy LOWER than that of purchasing food!

 

This is what I have observed occurring more and more often these days (especially when disability, prolonged illness(es), etc. coincide with severely reduced incomes, inability to provide for children or self, and forced lack of access to medical care) is that—in consequence—nearly everyone is miserable to one degree or another, unsatisfied with what is left of the ‘status quo’, and reeling, quite unable to successfully problem solve, or to willingly make changes in order to adapt and to survive.

 

And it is out of these feelings of paralysis and hopelessness, and the inability to cope or to thrive that we find ourselves unhappy, sad, and depressed.

 

We ruefully discover that we are too busy trying to meet daily physical needs.  Scarce attention is paid to the goal of personal happiness, and, much less—still—to be able to experience joy, elation, or the proper nourishment of the soul.

 

End of  Part I

Parts II & III to follow

 

My very dearest friends, and wonderfully loyal readers, please know that I think of you so very often, and that I love you so very, very dearly!

 

 

‘Zahc’/Charles

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

"Daisy: 'Grateful THanks'; 'Test Results'; 'Medication Follies'; 'The Truly Inexplicable', And: 'How Many Dogs Am I?'"


 

 

“Daisy: ‘Grateful Thanks’; ‘Test Results’; ‘Medication Follies’; ‘The Truly Inexplicable’, And ; ‘How Many Dogs Am I?’”

 

 

09/26/12

 

 

To my very, very dearest friends, and ever-loyal, caring readers,

 

I cannot in near-full measure ever thank you enough for all the wonderfully kind and sympathetic comments, ‘hugs’, PMs, cards, and telephone calls, inquiring about both my Daisy’s health and progress…and mine; your prayers, wishes, suggestions, fond hopes, and your continued caring brings both tears to the eyes, and a gladness to my heart!

 

I really do not know how I would be able to cope during this most difficult time without you; you have—as you always have—been ever ‘there’ for me, and now for little Daisy.

 

And I am, moreover, most grateful for your continued encouragement and support during these difficult times. 

 

For I know that so many of you—my dearest friends—are (or have)—experienced the same things that I and Daisy are going-though now.

 

And yet…never have you made me to feel stupid or maudlin, or overly possessive; and your thoughtfulness gives me strength and a genuine comfort that helps guide and direct me, and, your concern, thoughts, and prayers for Daisy prove to be a most effective anodyne against uncertainty, impending sense of loss, and to help guide Daisy and I at this immutable time of depression, sadness, and feelings of helplessness.

 

‘Daisy’s lab work results, and Dr. Weston’s evaluation of Daisy’s current health’:

 

When Dr. Weston telephoned me late the other night with the results of Daisy’s lab work, the second I heard the good doctor’s voice, I went—immediately—into a panic attack, in anticipation of the worst.

 

And, as might be expected, some of the values were abnormally high, or low.  Daisy’s liver enzymes were quite high; but Dr. Weston said that there was no need to panic—yet—as her liver enzymes were probably elevated owing to age, the pain, and arthritis medications Daisy is on.

 

Her potassium level was a little high, so the Dr. decided to have me give Daisy her potassium pill every other day, instead of every day.

 

Her thyroid value was only very slightly elevated, which Dr. Weston attributed to Daisy’s age, and not something to worry about just yet.

 

Everything else was yawningly normal!  And I had anticipated the, ‘comprehensive metabolic panel’, that had been ordered would show that all or most of the values to be horribly askew, and typical of an ailing dog who was possibly soon to perish!

 

In fact, Dr. Weston told me that when I had telephoned her to come out to see Daisy, she was fully prepared to initiate the process of having Daisy put to sleep.

 

However, after a good two-hour visit, and evaluation, Dr. Weston told me that Daisy seemed to be reacting well to her medications, and—in fact—looked more spry that when she was seen on the last visit.

 

Realistically—though—that is not to say that because of Daisy’s age might also, and with little or no warning, succumb to a heart attack, cancer, or from a stroke.

 

I cannot help but feel guardedly relieved for now, anyway, though I want to spend as much ‘quality’ time with Daisy as I can, and to continue to give her her medications, as they do seem to be helping.

 

‘Medication Follies’:

 

 

Dr. Weston suggested that she schedule a partial lab work redraw in three months, just to make sure the medications are working well.

 

What probably should not surprise me is just how expensive ‘pet’ medicine can be! Daisy’s medication tab—monthly—is at least $160.00, or more.  A month’s supply of Tramadol (which I give Daisy to help relieve her pain) just cost me $75.00.  And the Cyproheptadine (which—for me—is an anti-histamine I take once a day, at night, to help me breath better, and for Daisy—who takes it twice a day—is used to stimulate her appetite), just cost me $37.50.  Whereas my prescription for the same drug is only $6.00!

 

So…when I was visited—today—by my Primary (who still makes ‘house calls’), I asked her if she would kindly consider changing MY prescription from one, once a day, to three, daily; that way, I can still take my one at bedtime, and Daisy can have her two.  That change—alone—will save me $31.50 a month.

 

‘Even in a ‘down-turned, lousy economy’, I firmly believe that Veterinarians and their Clinics will always manage quite nicely; for one, their prices are NOT cheap, and secondly, even poor people will continue to spend money on their pets, even if they have to do without elsewhere.  And I understand, and accept that.

 

 

 Would you allow an innocent child to suffer? While the two are completely different, those of us who have no children—but who DO have pets—often very much feel the same way.

 

After all, this November 17th. Is Daisy’s arbitrary birthday; by that time, she will have been with me for thirteen years! Thirteen years of unquestioning love, protection, and companionship.

 

Made even more special as Daisy—in escaping from a horribly abusive situation—decided that she would trust my late mother and me, and find, here, a sense of peace…and love…ever and always free from the specter of abuse or pain.

 

When she adopted us, the vet said that she might have already been 1.5 to 2.5 years old.  Dogs will very rarely voluntarily leave a situation.  So, it is both difficult and heart-rending to imagine how very great the abuse was, to drive her away from her owner, to stay with us.

 

When she first came to us, Daisy had obviously been on the ‘run’ for some time.  She had lost huge patched of fur; her tail looked thin and ratty, as did her ears.

 

Someone…taken a bat to her, and had knocked out all her upper and lower front teeth.  And she was SO thin.  You could see her ribs, and the ‘bumps’ that outlined her spine.  She was jaundiced, starving (having had to prowl-through garbage cans for food), and she was unbelievable filthy, alive with fleas, and covered with sores.

 

She was very wary of me, even as I fed her, although I must say that she almost immediately took to my late mother (who was eighty-two at the time). It was my mom who gave Daisy her name, and, sometime before she bonded with me, Daisy was as a lap dog to my mother, and would follow mom everywhere, never letting mom out of her sight.

 

Even before Daisy was—at last—returned to a state of good health, proper care, and proper nutrition, we began to let Daisy stay in the house at night, when the winter’s wind turned colder.

 

I well-remember when mom would sit in her recliner to watch television, Daisy would crawl under the lamp table to be near her; mom would reach down through the arm of the chair to pet Daisy, and would often croon to her, calling Daisy little pet names such as, ‘My little pussycat’, or, ‘My little pussy willow’, or mom would sing little songs to her; Daisy would just eat that shit up.

 

And when my mother would go to bed at night, Daisy was right beside her, sleeping on the rug next to mom’s bed.

 

In those days with Daisy, me, she tolerated as I was the bringer of food; it was mom whom she adored.

 

But with my mother’s passing in 2008, Daisy knew our little ‘pack’ had been seriously reduced, and for weeks, she would run from place to place in the house, or, out in the yard, looking for my mom.

 

Of course, during, and after that time, my own health has seriously declined.  And now, it is Daisy who ‘takes care’ of me!  Every time I get up and move, Daisy is right there; should I be in the bathroom, Daisy will walk back and forth by the open door to look in on me; on many an occasion, she has come into the bathroom to lie down by the sink.  And for a long time—now—whenever I do go to bed, Daisy is right there, curled up on the rug besides my bed.

 

Of course, now, I call her my own pet names, which she does seem to enjoy, and I do think that dogs can be happy, and that they can smile; and it lights-up my heart to see her smile!

 

‘The truly inexplicable’:

 

This is very strange, my dearest, patient and wonderful friends, and something for which I have no ready answer, and which—in hindsight—just baffles me.

 

When Daisy adopted us, I knew that she had to have had a previous owner, although—in my heart—to see Daisy in such a neglected, and horrible condition, I cursed whoever had done this to her, causing her to leave her situation, or—as also might have been the case—to have merely been ‘dropped off’, taken for a ride into the countryside, and there pushed out to have to fend for herself.

 

While either scenario was sickeningly unacceptable, still, I did feel obliged to place ads should the true owner be looking for her.

 

What I got were strange telephone calls, sullen, angry calls, and a few responses that were just demanding and/or weird.  In a short while I gave up, in part because I did not want to return Daisy to such a potentially abusive situation, and, also because she had already found a place within our hearts.

 

Now, every year—in THIS County, anyway, whenever dogs (or cats, too, I guess) get their rabies shots, they are given a special tag to wear on their collars, that lists an assigned number to the pet, and also included the telephone number to the County’s Animal Control Department.

 

This accomplishes two things:

1)           The tag (marked with the current year) shows that the animal has received the most recent rabies injection; the tag is a different color, every year.

2)           That anyone—upon finding a stray animal—can telephone the County’s Animal Control, who can look up, and notify an owner where their dog is, and from whom it may be picked up.

 

About two years ago—now—I happened to be thinking about how grateful we were that Daisy found us to adopt.

 

But here’s the weird part.  Suddenly, I remembered that when Daisy first came to stay with us, she DID happen to be wearing a collar, with just such a I.D. tag on it.

 

Frankly, I could have just telephoned Animal Control, and they would have located Daisy’s prior owner, who then could have come to the house and just taken her away with them again.

 

I must have seen that tag a hundred times, my dearest friends, but not once did it ever occur to me that it would have located Daisy’s previous owner.  The thought never, ever occurred to me.

 

So why was I so blinded and stupid?  I generally pay more attention to detail than that.

 

I decided that such knowledge was hidden from me on purpose, or—more probably—that deep within my heart (which almost always overrules the mind!), I did not want to return Daisy to an abuser.  And…that my mom and I wanted her to stay with us!

 

Otherwise, I have NO explanation for my not having taken any action, regarding her return.  Perhaps you—my dearest friends—will be able to solve an almost eleven year old mystery!

 

‘How many dogs am I?’:

 

My dearest friends, and loyal readers, should you visit my ‘Profile’ here at MDJunction, and scroll-down to the photographic gallery, below, you will see two pictures of Daisy, “The best dog on the planet!”.

 

After looking at her pictures, would you not—perhaps—think of her to be a ‘Border Collie/Mix’?  That is truly what I had thought for a decade, at least.

 

But, about two years—ago, when I happened to have more money that ever I do now!—I paid about $57.00, along with two cheek swabs to a lab to assay Daisy’s D.N.A., and thus, reveal her breed(s).

 

The results listed, in order of percentage, up to four, different breeds, listing them as: 1) 40% or more of D.N.A.; 30% or more of D.N.A.; 20% or more; and then 10% or less of D.N.A.

 

The results, dear friends, were not even remotely what I might have suspected, and—frankly—dumbfounded me, with surprise, and laughter.  Believe it or not…here they are:

1)           40% of D.N.A…..Shar Pei

2)           30%     “               Chow

3)           20%     “               German Shepherd

4)           10%     “                Poodle

 

Only by looking very closely at the shape of her mouth, can I detect any Chow in her.

And, now that she has been shaved severely to allow me to better treat her dry and itchy, allergic skin, do—at last—I detect the wrinkles on her forehead, and on the back of her neck evident of any Shar Pei in her.

And…maybe her shanks do slightly resemble those of the Shepperd.

 

Most recently, I happened—in passing—to mention this to the good Dr. Weston.  And what she told me absolutely astounded me.

 

To wit, that the Poodle is the longest lived animal, in general; apparently, the other, three breeds have life spans that range—usually—only from around eight to eleven years.

 

The startling implication was that if Daisy is—in truth—actually 14.5 to 15.5 (this Nov. 17th), then she is indeed fortunate to have inherited her longevity from the Poodle D.N.A. in her.  Otherwise—and quite naturally so—she might have died some six or seven years ago…something I never knew before, and would never have considered!

 

So…in addition to love, care, and the will of our Savior!, I have the 10% of Poodle D.N.A. to thank for Daisy surviving all these extra years!

 

I feel that that has already given me an extra six or more years with my dearest, canine companion, Daisy!

 

And in my secret heart of hearts, dearest friends, what I now choose to believe is that Daisy was allowed to live during and past the time when my wonderful mother became ill, and died on February 8, 2008, to protect me, and keep me safe, and to stay with me so I won’t feel so alone.

 

Oh, I know that the end will come when it is supposed to.  And that—along the way—there will be bumps and shocks, and a hundred scares.

 

But as long as Daisy continues to eat well, and drink well, responses well to her medications, and does not seem to be in intractable, prolonged pain, and…as long as she can still ‘arf’ at me, and wag her tail, rolling over to be scratched, staying with me in my Study even as I write these diary entries, and as she sleeps on the rug beside my bed each night, and appears to be in no distress…I will always love her, and continue as best I can to make her happy, well-fed, and comfortable and well taken care of, enjoying every, blessed moment I still have with her!

 

My very, very dearest and kind friends, I think of you so often, and wish for you no pain, or much, much lessened pain, and no distress or despair.

I wish wonderful days for you, in-full surrounded by love, care, and attention.  I wish for you plenty, without need or want.

And, I wish you balmy nights of blissful sleep, safe, and secure.  And watched over by gentle angels.

 

And, please, please always know I love you dearly!

 

 

‘Zahc’/Charles