My skin is a mess and my dog was sick all over the place but I made it to another re-birthday

 

This is before the anesthesia wore off

Maddie and I have both had a hard few weeks. I had a biopsy on my thumb, making it hard to write, but it quickly healed and turned out to be a tiny squamous cell carcinoma that could be treated with the chemo cream combination that I use. Harder still was the next week's biopsy on a fingernail on my left hand. My fingernails have turned a gross combination of purple and white, and ridged) white where the nail has died) and the nail specialist in Worcester doesn't know what to make of it. The biopsy itself didn't hurt but it really kills now. A friend said that makes sense because the finger is the part of the body most sensitive to pain.

The results of the fingernail biopsy were...drumroll...inconclusive. Either a flare of graft vs. host disease, which might make sense because I finally got off prednisone, or something called lichen planus. I have an appointment on Wednesday with the fingernail dermatologist and one the next day in Boston with my regular dermatologist. So we shall see. 

I really thought Maddie was in her final days. She stopped eating for three whole days. She also had diarrhea and was vomiting. I took her to the vet. The vet did (very expensive) bloodwork and nothing turned up. I couldn't get a stool sample. I tried everything to get her to eat, and she wouldn't even eat a tiny dog treat. The vet gave her a probiotic, antibiotic, and prescription canned dog food. She is almost 15, and I thought I should tell the appropriate people it was time to say goodbye. I shed some tears.

Give me more food! 

Yet she didn't seem sick. She was drinking and walking. I called the vet to bring her in again and the person on the phone said to try something I hadn't thought of : microwave the food so that the yummy smell might interest her. I microwaved it and put it on my mother's china and put it under nose. And she ate! Now she doesn't want to stop eating. That canned stuff is like doggy cocaine. I am trying to ease in some bland dry food but I don't think I will totally stop the canned food. It has really perked her up. Previously we were able to make it down to the lake (slowly); when she got there, she perked up because there is so much to smell. Now she is even more lively on our walks, especially with Deborah and her two Labs. Her coat even looks better.

A few years ago, someone at a party (in the Before Times) told me with a dog that old, I was living on borrowed time. It was unnecessary... I knew how old she was then and I know how old she is now. But still...

BURIED LEDE:

Today is my 13th re-birthday. It is hard to believe for sure. Thirteen is a lucky number for me. Ben was born on the 13th (of September). I am grateful for Denise, my donor, first and foremost. And for Dana-Farber and the whole rest of the crew who put up with me and helped me get to this point.

 Some people will know that this all started in 2003 with my acute myeloid leukemia diagnosis and spanned two relapses and three transplants before the last one. (Note : Here's why I don't call it a journey though I still don't have an appropriate name for it.)

On Jan. 31st, 2009, I described what I called the momentous occasion and concluded: "Diane brought me a birthday present yesterday: a card with a pop-up bouquet and a bag filled with the other kind of product that I now need after my transplant. It contained shampoo, conditioner, lotion, body wash and lip gloss, all in pretty perk-me-up colors. (After transplant, you’re supposed to start with everything clean and new and throw out old products.) On the card, she wrote, “Here’s to a wonderful and healthy life with your new mystery donor!”

Birthday treat today!

Last night, as the evening weirdness settled in on me, Diane reminded me, “You’re getting another shot at a whole new life. It’s great. It’s the miracle of modern science.”

It’s wonderful to have a baby sister who anticipates my every need, who picks me up and who washes, folds and delivers my laundry with a smile.

Thank you everyone for your support – your thoughts, prayers, comments, good vibes, messages, calls, visits and cards really mean a lot to me. "

Ditto on the thanks!

I'm Still here!

 

Big kid, little kids, on Wellfleet trip

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I didn't write for a long time because in the height of the pandemic, everything that I was going to say seemed so trite and trivial. As you can see, I did it for a while, and then it was all I could do to concentrate on my paid writing. I was used to doing it out of the house, inspired by the coffee shop noise that due to my newsroom years makes me concentrate better than I do at home. But I'm not complaining, because I was privileged to be able to stay at home. In any case, for the handful of people still checking in, I should say that I'm still alive! 

I realized also that for my personal reference, the blog is a good resource. For example, in thinking about possibly going to the US Open, I looked up what happened last year and found this post about the magical qualities of my Nike tennis skirt. It helped me remember what was going on at the time.

 Also it turned out that I am a resource for others. For example, in the spring, I got this message: "Hi Ronni! My name is Lane - I found your number off of your website. This is a little bit random, but I am trying to track down the bench books in Wellfleet. My friends and I came there 6 years ago and wrote some entries, and when returning a few years later hoping to read our messages, the book we had written in was gone. We are coming back this week for another reunion and are determined to find where they are stored. I found your blog post which noted that they are maintained by a local resident. I was wondering if you had any information on who it was? Thank you so much in advance for any info you might have! " They had googled bench book, which is at one of my favorite places in Wellfleet, overlooking Duck Harbor, and found an entry on my blog, maybe this one. 

One thing led to another, and it's kind of convoluted, but they did find the keeper of the book, with some info that I gave them as a starting point. He texted that they were students at Carnegie Mellon University, in Pittsburgh, and I replied that I had just interviewed a professor from the school, for this story on pandemic pivots, and he said they had taken a class with her. Hashtag small world.

I have been doing the usual: jogging, playing tennis, dealing with skin cancer, doing yoga, writing... The skin cancer is actually not an aside like I just wrote it. I had one on my nose, a squamous cell as usual. I didn't think it would turn into such a big deal, but I ended up with 12 stitches on my nose. It was so hard to keep it bandaged. I needed help. Then I went to Boston to get the stitches out because I figured they knew best. But they left one stitch in, so I had to go to the local doctor anyway to get the stitch out. 

I am also dealing with a senior dog (14.5 years old ) who didn't bark her whole life and who now seems to be getting it out of her system. My vet wants me to see a dog behaviorist . (Apparently you can teach an old dog new tricks.) I know what the problem is. She must have dementia because she wants to be with me but goes into another room and starts barking and seems to forget that all she has to do is stay in the same room. I gave in and made the appointment because who knows, I might get some tips. I have been putting her on a leash and going into the other room where she is, for example the dining room, and bringing her back into the kitchen with me. I try to stay calm, because I assume that if I raise my voice, she will think I'm barking at her. But I am only human, and if she is in the same room as me and starts barking, I do sometimes say STOP! More often, I go over and give her a pat or just look at her and wave hello.

I volunteered at a fabulous program, Moving on Up With Tennis and Education, which will be the topic of another post if I don't disappear again. 

It was so exciting to get some freedom and go to the Cape with the family and not worry about hugging. The little kids have the beach in Fairfield, but they seemed to be exhilarated by the waves at the ocean. There were enough waves for it to be exciting but not so many that it was hard for me to get in and out. (And no sharks.) So I went in also. I got on my back and floated like my mother used to do. I looked up at the blue sky with the white puffy clouds. I will admit that Katie had to help me out. We had a moment when I did a belly flop in the shallow water. "Don't yank on my arm!" I yelled, or something like that. We had a good laugh. I didn't drown. We walked on the beach to the other parking lot where the cars were. (Long parking story, maybe not that interesting.) It was almost a mile, but Nell and Callen did well. 

I thought it was a bit of an overreach when Ben said he wanted to take the day ferry to Nantucket, have lunch at The Rose and Crown (an old haunt) walk around a little, and go back. But I was wrong. It was great. We drove approximately an hour to Hyannis, took the ferry that was only an hour as compared to the longer car ferry that we used to take, enjoyed lunch and walked a little and then went back. I told the kids about throwing a penny in the water as we left, as a sign that we would be back. We did it, so of course we'll have to go back. 

With Joe and Nell

Cape trip #2 is supposed to happen in a couple of weeks. Diane and David were away for the first one, and we have all been looking forward to getting everyone together. The taste of freedom was so liberating. And all those hugs. Now we are starting to worry about the Delta variant. I am back to wearing a mask in stores. I am back to wondering, what counts as "immunocompromised?" (Those are among the ones who might have greater complications.) Is it me? I don't know. I am still on one milligram of prednisone, which compromises my immune system somewhat. And the transplants themselves compromised my system...somewhat. But 12 years from my last transplant, (I wrote about forgetting my birthday) , I am not immunocompromised like people undergoing treatment or right after it. I asked Melissa way back in the EPA (Early Pandemic Era.) She said my immune system is good but not perfect.  We are still planning on going. Fingers and toes crossed.

Despite anxiety, finding a certain kind of rhythm

The other day when I learned of a COVID-19 death that came a little closer to home than others, I felt so sorry for the friend whose friend he was and for the community that lost him, I did what I used to do much more easily than I do now: I went for a longer run. (My former colleague Stephanie Barry wrote a beautiful tribute.)

Without thinking about what the total distance would be, or, more importantly, the hills that I would need to climb, I increased my loop to one that I used to do. While running home, UP the Route 116 hill from Mosier Street, I had mixed and conflicting feelings.

This was good! I had pulled a coping tactic out of my old toolbox.

This could be bad! I was huffing and puffing so much going up the hill that I worried if the exertion could hurt my immune system.

Diane and David leading the seder.

I was surprised that I had run six miles. Combined with the dog walking, it would be over seven for the day.

Something that seemed so simple, like going for a run, is now more complicated. You think you're doing something right but you can't be sure. Everyone is sharing new insights, new concerns. The answers can change in one day.

I worried when a friend had shared a story about being careful to keep a safe distance behind someone else who is running, because if they're infected, their sweat, or spit, could infect you.

Ben, Nell and Megan

But I think the running provides safe social distance because I'm not going where there are a lot of other people. If I see someone, I jump to the side or cross the street.

I hope we all don't end up anti social. On the other hand, maybe we'll be more social than ever, wanting to hug everyone.

A hiker friend asked on FB if you need to wear a mask if nobody is around. Some people said yes, but more said no. In an article, "Everyone Thinks They're Right About Face Masks, in The Atlantic, Ed Yong summarized why the situation is confusing (and also ripe for anyone with OCD).

"As the coronavirus pandemic continues, many people are now overthinking things they never used to think about at all. Can you go outside? What if you’re walking downwind of another person? What if you’re stuck waiting at a crosswalk and someone is there? What if you’re going for a run, and another runner is heading toward you, and the sidewalk is narrow? Suddenly, daily mundanities seem to demand strategy. Much of this confusion stems from the shifting conversation around the pandemic."

He asked an expert a question that I've been wondering about: "Is it irrational to hold your breath when another person walks past you and you don’t have enough space to move away?" She told him it wasn't irrational and she did it herself. “I don’t know if it makes a difference, but in theory it could. It’s like when you walk through a cigarette plume.”

Advice can be contradictory within the same news story. For example, in A User's Guide to Face Masks, in The New York Times, Tara Parker-Pope writes, "The recommendation is to wear a mask at all times in public spaces because we don’t know who has the virus and who doesn’t. It’s also more socially responsible to wear a mask, even if you’re outside." But almost in the next breath, she writes,  "In general, outdoor exercise, with or without a mask, seems to be safe, according to most experts."

Whose mat is it, anyway?

OK, at least for now, here is my plan. No mask while running. Yes mask when walking if there are people around.

Another activity that once seemed simple has now gotten complicated: going to the bakery and buying a loaf of bread (and a cookie.) The Hungry Ghost Bakery, in Northampton, has a good honor system set up. You walk up to a window, check out the chalk board to see what they have, place your order, drive off, and return to pay on via their website. I thought it was a fun little adventure. And the eight-grain bread was delish.

 Then a child of mine said it wasn't a good idea for me to do that. Some people are all in with takeout food while others are not. A story on NPR on whether it's safe to eat takeout  lays out a convincing case for why it IS safe; several infectious disease experts whom NPR spoke to concurred that research hasn't turned up any evidence of COVID-19 spreading through food.

Of course it is lucky to have such concerns when there are people who don't even have enough to eat.
And I am lucky to live in a beautiful, uncrowded part of the country.

And I have adapted to Zoom.

Zoom yoga, Zoom exercise classes, Zoom happy hour, and Zoom seder.
It was nice to see so many friends and relatives at the virtual seder, even if only on a screen.

Maddie seems to like to come over for at least part of my living room yoga. Sometimes she lies down and hogs (or rather dogs) the mat. I either accommodate or nudge her. It is interesting to look into other peoples' homes and to see their pets pop into the picture at random times. Kind of lightens things up. Which is welcome right now.

Hanging in there...by a thread

Road all to myself on cloudy day run

When I got worried during cancer treatment @danafarber, my nurse, Vytas, wld call me a Nervous Nellie & say "They'll figure it out." Believing him, I relaxed a little. Without the same confidence in our great leader, there is no such balm w/ #coronavirus.

I'm not a big tweeter but I did want to share this thought. I remember Vytas sitting on the edge of my bed and saying "They'll figure it out." Vytas was a cancer survivor himself (lymphoma) and was one of us. He followed me wherever I went, starting from my diagnosis in 2003. I can't believe he has been gone for 10 years. He died not from lymphoma but from a heart problem resulting from the radiation he received. In looking him up to spark my memory about the year of his death, I came upon something I wrote. It was on Brigham and Women's Hospital's newsletter for nurses. The remembrance said,

A Newton resident, Mr. Durickas dedicated himself to patients, even when he struggled with his own health issues. His caring personality often made an impact on patients. One of those former patients is Ronni Gordon, a writer who blogs about running and battling with leukemia. She recently wrote of her memories of Mr. Durickas.

“Over many years and through four bone marrow transplants, he always took that extra step. His kindness and sense of humor helped me get through many tough spots,” she wrote. “I’d panic over some new detour on the road to recovery, and he’d calm me down with a mix of knowledge, a talent for putting things in perspective, and, always, something funny.”

The nation needs a Vytas, and we don't have one. Couldn't we even have someone with at least a voice that isn't grating, someone with a calm tone, such as I heard in the message that my Congressman, Richie Neal, left on my answering machine in giving a heads-up to an upcoming informational call that he would be giving? This article in The Atlantic, "No Empathy, Only Anger," , lays out the tone and substance of the administration's failure. The news is so all around bad, from two Republican senators dumping their stocks before the economy went bad, to mismanagement and missed opportunities, that following the news is sickening, but not following it is not in my nature. I am trying to limit as much as I can. For example, last night I didn't read or watch one bit of news, instead catching up on Grace and Frankie.

Is it lunch time?

Given absence of guidance from the top, states, localities, communities, and individuals and friends and family are trying to fill in the gap. Kudos to Serenity Yoga (and others) for setting up a virtual studio. I did my first class this morning via my laptop and enjoyed connecting with others and keeping up my practice. Afterwards, I had a FaceTime coffee chat with a fellow yogini. Last week four friends and I tried to share a virtual cocktail hour. There were some technical difficulties, but I guess we'll have to learn.

I've been to the supermarket twice and hope to not go again until this clears up. I wore a mask and gloves, but the mask kept slipping, and as I tried to fix it behind my ear, I thought about how I should not be touching my hair. My friend the pharmacist said he thought I was OK, but the concern afterwards really dragged me down. I'm either going to use online means or go to River Valley Coop, which has started curbside pickup. THEN you read about how you have to wipe your groceries down (which I didn't do) because who knows who has touched what.

Also why are people hoarding Hellman's mayonnaise?

My kitchen is ready to be painted, but I'm not sure if I should let the painter in. As of this writing I have said to put a pause on all of the house repairs. It's not finished but it's good enough. I do go back and forth on the kitchen. I would like to have the kitchen back...

It has been pointed out to me that being quarantined is nothing new to me; I learned how to live with limitations after each of my four stem cell transplants. But at least then I knew what the enemy was. In the case of the virus there is so much uncertainty.

There is still dog walking and following the dog around the house taking photos of her or getting a hug. On one of the nice days this week, I played singles with the BF. I evened out the playing field by making up rules as we went along, such as if he hit a serve that I couldn't return, I got a mulligan. (I gave him some second chances too!)

Absent tennis at the club, I am trying to do a little more running. The other day, I ran four (up and down hills) and walked two. It's not easy to get out the door like it was in the old days, but it's doable, and once I get going I'm grateful for it. I can almost forget what a mess we're in.

Mishaps in the house, more messes on my skin

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New sleeping quarters

My squamous cell radar, like my New York parking radar, continues to point me to the right spot.

Which is to say that after I realized that squamous cell cancers in my case at least are areas that won’t stop flaking, I’ve recognized the difference between dry skin and something suspicious. Unconsciously while I was writing (or pondering), I rubbed my finger along an area at the top of my cheekbone near my ear – the sideburn area – and came away with blood. This was a while ago. I forgot about it and then did it again more recently and realized I was picking at some spots that were flaking.

I also felt something scaly behind my head, at the bottom of my hairline.

This happened a few months ago and so I made a dermatology appointment in Boston. Dermatology appointments are not the easiest to get. I went Monday and sure enough ended up with four biopsies. Three for the little cluster near my ear and one down at the back of my head. I assume that I will end up with at least one Mohs. Which means missing a couple of weeks of tennis, sigh.

The after visit summary sounds sort of creepy:

• Neoplasm of uncertain behavior of skin
• Seborrheic dermatitis
• Actinic keratosis
• Personal history of other malignant neoplasm of skin

Actually a skin neoplasm is just an unusual growth that could be cancerous but also noncancerous.  Those stupid actinic keratosis are red spots that have reappeared on my hands and arms. They could be precancerous. I’m supposed to retreat them with a chemo cream combination. I feel like I already did that. Because I did, several times. You are supposed to wrap your hands up in Saran Wrap or some other but I told the doc that was very hard to do, and she agreed. Wearing purple exam gloves to bed is the next bed option. It is supposed to turn the spots bright red and since I'm doing some holiday visiting, I'm not quite ready to do it.

Here's something I wrote about a pill that is supposed to cut down on skin cancer incidence. 

Usually I try to combine dermatology with something else, but the appointments are hard to get – I couldn’t even get one with my regular doctor – so I took a “stand-alone.” It was kind of silly because I also went on Friday, for ECP (the light therapy), which I had absentmindedly changed from Thursday because I thought we had book group Thursday, which is our usual day. It had said right in the emails that we were doing it Friday for our holiday party, but despite telling myself repeatedly to write things down, I didn’t do it. So I went down to Jo’s on Thursday and was uncharacteristically early, as in, a whole day early.

 Luckily I made an early appointment on Friday, 1 p.m., so despite getting caught in Friday traffic, I made it to the meeting almost on time.

Ooops!

It might sound like I’m launching into my version of Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, or – take your pick – the dog ate my homework. Because Maddie decided she is done with stairs so we changed our routine, and this caused me to break my glasses. Not direct cause and effect, but you will see. She also decided she didn’t want to jump up on the couch. I remember when we wanted to keep her off, and now I’m sad for her that she can’t get up. In addition to glucosamine, I got her some CBD dog biscuits that seem to help; one night she even ran up the stairs. But that was the only time.

I got her a new big bed for the den. For our morning routine upstairs, I would lie down and put my glasses under my dresser and then snuggle with her, arm over paw, or paw over arm. When we changed to downstairs, I didn’t have a habitual place to put my glasses. I should have put them on top of something but instead I put them next to me…and rolled over onto them and heard a crack. Then I had to hold the broken glasses up to my eyes to find the spare pair. I ordered a new pair from Village Eye Care, at the Commons. I know you can get them cheaper on line or elsewhere, but I want to support my local business.

The doctor (my friend Steve Markow) came out to chat. I told him my eyes felt all squinty and dry. He went into the back and came out with some sample drops and put them in my eyes. We gave each other an update on our families and had a hug. You couldn’t get this if you ordered on line.

Yesterday at the end of the storm, with mush on the ground, Maddie and I walked to the corner and across the street. A man shouted out from a car, “Come on old lady, you can do it!” I said, “Are you talking to me?” He laughed and said, “No, the dog!”

Earlier in the day, when we were taking a walk down Sycamore Knolls, a car slowed down, and dog biscuits flew out the window. It took me a minute to realize that it was Bert Willey, my painter. A few got lost in the snow, so he threw out another. Then she found the rest in the snow.

 Guys in cars, talking to dogs.

Shpilkes

 Shpilkes: Yiddish plural noun, literally “pins.”

First meaning: “On pins and needles,” an unpleasant nervousness before an event.

Nowadays it can mean “upset stomach,” “feeling antsy,” or “impatience.”

I am back from a walk in the rain with the dog, my wet sneakers all squishy.

I had an umbrella in one hand and the leash in the other, and although I thought about making a second loop around the lake, my arm with the umbrella was starting to hurt me. If I had just been running in the rain, it would have been easier because I would have hit a stride, sans umbrella and leash. (Sorry, Maddie.)

Still, I probably would have walked her separately, because although she's not so young that she needs to get a good exercise walk every day, I feel it's my job as a pet owner to take her.

I am at that point in a period of limited exercise when I am feeling antsy. The hernia operation was a week ago Monday; I'm not supposed to do much but walk until I see the doctor again on Dec. 19. I've found myself taking little jogging steps across the kitchen and around the house. I jogged to the car and was about to take off in the supermarket when I thought better of it. When walking the dog, I jogged a few steps along the path.

It's like there is a little "on" switch that I couldn't push all the way to "off."

Yesterday I lifted some weights in my room and did a few stretches not involving my abdominal muscles, but what I really need is to run around.

I know, of course, that it could be way worse and that this is nothing in comparison to big stuff, but the accumulation of little things (teeth, tongue, etc.) definitely adds to the overall wear and tear.

But hey, the fact that I am restless is a sign that I'm feeling better, because a week ago, I wasn't much in the mood for running around at all.

(Dog) Progress Report

Poor baby still has to wear the E-collar

She's allowed to have it off now, but she goes after her incision and, the latest thing, her paws, where she has a yeast infection. She also has a yeast infection in her ears, something she gets on and off and which was maybe brought on by having her ears inside the collar so much. By the way, she looks fat in this photo, but it's because of the way she's lying. She actually is at her "ideal weight," 62 pounds. (Just wanted to straighten that out in case anyone is judging her.)

I took her to the vet a week ago because when I tried to walk her without the collar, she was crazed. She turned around and around and couldn't stop scratching and gnawing at her paws. The doctor diagnosed the yeast infection and gave her drops and a wash for the ears. She also prescribed Benadryl for itch. And they gave her an oatmeal bath. She said the infection in her paws would heal if she wasn't licking them. So we were to put the collar back on if she couldn't keep away.

She looks so pathetic, I want to get it off. So far within a few minutes she's licking her feet or or her incision. Today was better. She went a couple of hours before she gave in and I had to put the collar back on.

I'll probably call to see if there's anything more to do about the paws. The incision looks great.

Yesterday I checked my Visa balance and it was over $4,000. My bill is never that high, and I figured it was fraud. I called and spoke to a customer service rep who said the big bills were from the local auto repair shop (forgot about those tires and alignment) and from a veterinary hospital.

Oh! The dog. Right. I said this out loud and we had a nice brief chat. I told her the dog was hit by a car, hence, the high vet bill which I had maybe tried to forget. She said she hoped the dog was OK, I told her yes, and she wished me luck.

The first installation, when she stayed overnight and had surgery, was $1,500. I figured I had done pretty well. But she went back many times, often leaving with medicine. Each time was between $60 to $80, though this last visit was $100.

I would have done it anyway, and although among some people it is not PC to even mention the price, I have to say the total amount spent (I don't have an exact amount) was incredibly high, especially for someone out of work.

I always have a dog, except for the necessary gap when I recover from losing one. I never got pet insurance, and I don't think I will now.

All that said, I am very happy to have this one, lying next to me on her bed, breathing softly.

Did I mention that I'm keeping the dog?

Katie took this photo of Maddie watching her friend Simba
swim earlier this fall. Below left, Ben shares the couch with the dog.

Good medicine is underfoot. It is also on my couch and frequently by my side.
It is the dog that I threatened to give up over the summer.

In August, I wrote a querulous post headlined, “Does Anyone Want a Dog?” It was about my frustration with at a year and a half. No matter how often we walked her, she frequently left us a “present” on her favorite spot in the kitchen, which had begun to smell like a kennel.

Finally I came up with a solution. I had kept her downstairs overnight, giving her the run of the dining room and kitchen, because I kind of liked the idea not sharing my bedroom with her. But I broke down and got her a new LLBean bed and put it in my room. At first she woke me up at crazy hours like 4 a.m., insisting on going out. I took her out and then left her downstairs and went back up for more much-needed rest. Eventually she slept to a more respectable hour, say around 6 or 6:30 a.m.
But even after going out, with nothing in her stomach, she sometimes still had an accident on the floor. I had one other idea: Let her sleep on the couch. She really likes the couch but we kept shooing her off. Except for when I had a lapdog as a child, I never let my big dogs on the couch. I decided I could make an exception for this medium-sized dog.

So I put one of my mother’s afghans in the dog’s favorite corner and let her hang out there when I went back upstairs. And that was the end of the messing on the floor. That side of the couch, meanwhile, has become the dog’s spot. I guess that means she’s spoiled, but she is well-behaved in most other ways. And I like sitting next to her while we watch TV or read. I can cuddle with her without having to get down on the floor. I can understand why they take dogs to hospitals and nursing homes for therapeutic purposes. There is something incredibly calming about petting and snuggling up with a dog, feeling its heart beating. I’m not a cat person, but I suppose cat-lovers find similar rewards in being close to their animals.

Now Maddie seems to prefer spending the whole night on the couch. She jumps right up there and curls up in her spot after our last walk of
the night. When I hear Katie getting ready for school in the morning, I stumble downstairs, walk the dog, then go back up for a couple of hours without really waking up. The downside with dogs, of course, is that you have to walk them in bad weather. I usually don’t really mind, because it gets me out. I will find out tomorrow where my hematocrit level is, but I figure it can’t be that bad because I just walked a couple of miles with her, fueled by a black and white cookie (OK, three cookies, but they were minis).

I thought of coming home after my first loop, because my legs felt a little heavy and I was getting a bit winded going up a hill. Yesterday I cut it short because I wasn’t feeling that great. But today, either out of stubbornness or to prove to myself that I’m OK or to give the dog her usual workout, I went twice around the lake.

When I came home, my head was pounding a little and I could feel my heart beating. (Should I admit this? Well I guess I just did). It felt good to touch my toes and let my head hang down. The dog came over and nuzzled me. Good dog.