March 03, 2004
Pet Therapy
Today I want to tell you a special story that is near and dear to my heart and is, I think, as close as one can get to living an O. Henry story:
Two years ago December (December 8th to be exact; how can we forget?), TMK ruptured two discs in her spine. Was she skydiving? Was she riding a raging bull in the rodeo ring? Was she bungee-jumping from a towering cliff? Was she performing a death-defying trapeze maneuver? Was she dancing a pas de deux or executing a grand jete? Not even close—she bent over to pick up a Christmas ribbon from the floor. What a plebeian way to have your life change so instantly and completely for a year.
The pain TMK was in was the kind that makes you break out in drenching sweat and feel waves of nausea and despair at the most infinitesimal movement. It was heart-wrenching to watch what she went through, but there was nothing we could do but take care of the day-to-day basics of life as best we could.
One of the casualties of her injury was our precious Corgi, Frankie. TMK could barely get out of bed, let alone walk her, and I was too busy with my work and my life and taking care of TMK to walk her either. (Although she was not neglected by any stretch of the imagination. One glance at her filled-to-overflowing toy box (her two filled-to-overflowing toy boxes in fact; one at my house and one at TMK’s) and the pantry full of the best dog food and dog treats money can buy will tell you all you need to know.)
In the meantime, a block away from TMK lived an elderly gentlemen who also had a Corgi. Despite his age, the man was very athletic and energetic, hiking and biking on a regular basis and walking his dog two or three times a day. A couple of months into TMK’s Year of Utter Agony, the man’s Corgi succumbed to old age. Word got around the neighborhood about this Curious Situation: A young woman who had a Corgi that desperately needed walking but had no one to walk her; and an elderly gentleman who desperately wanted to walk a Corgi but had no Corgi to walk. I don’t remember exactly what happened next but I believe the man’s wife contacted TMK about having her husband walk Frankie—and a wonderful relationship was started. Every morning at about 7:45 the man would arrive at TMK’s door and take a leaping, joyful, excited Frankie out for a 45-minute walk and bring her back wet, muddy, aerobically exercised and thoroughly contented with life. Never in my life have I seen a more win-win-win-win situation: TMK could feel less guilty about Frankie and could focus on the business of getting better; I could feel less guilty about Frankie and could focus on the business of helping TMK get better; the man-without-a-dog had a dog to walk; and the dog-without-a-walker had someone to walk her.
After about six months of extensive doctor’s visits, acupuncture, pain killers, muscle relaxants, massage, and discussions about surgery, TMK discovered the miraculously therapeutic effects of swimming. Since she was completely hunched over and could only move very slowly, she opted to join a “seniors” swimming group at our neighborhood pool, and every day, millimeter by millimeter, she started to improve. For the last year she has been fine, the occasional twinge and a phalanx of half-empty bottles of medication the only reminder of the time she spent wishing the earth would just open up and swallow her.
Not being the kind who likes to be beholden to anybody, once she got better, TMK started feeling guilty about the fact the man was still coming over every day to walk Miss F. One day, in casual conversation with the man’s wife, TMK said that she was eternally grateful to the two of them for their help but that now that she was fully recovered she could resume walking the dog. The wife looked a little alarmed and said, “I don’t think you really understand what happened. When our dog died, my athletic, energetic, bustling husband essentially lay down to die. He stopped eating, he stopped exercising, he stopped caring. He would be dead now if it weren’t for his daily walks with your dog. Don’t you understand? We weren’t doing a favor for you; you were doing a favor for us!”
So the daily walks have become permanent, much to everyone’s satisfaction. In fact, the man and his wife got a new dog, a tri-color Corgi, and now he shows up every morning with his "son" in tow and off the three of them go, the tall, elegant, gray haired man, and his two short, chubby, tail-less companions.
Knitting Knews
Here are pictures of my pride and joy, the Aran baby sweater.
When I was seaming the sweater together, I found a whopping big boo-boo two inches into the back but I’m not letting that spoil my enjoyment of this wonderful little project (I’m not, I’m not, I’m not!). TMK asked me if I would knit it again and, the fact that I want to move onto something else aside, the answer is a resounding, yes! I recommend this pattern to anyone!
The chemo cap is almost done. The size 7 circular needle has taken me as far as it can in the decreases so I need to make another trip to the LYS to get size 7 dpns. Most likely this, My First Hat Ever, will be done tonight, just in time for my co-worker's chemo which starts on Thursday.