A lesson in Perseverance

This week, Lucky is teaching me about perseverance. I always assumed my role to the end of this journey would be: the strong one, the positive one, the "come on, we can do this" one, but Lucky and I had a role reversal this week.

When I was feeling worn out and tired, she was the one who was barking commands at me . . . come on, mom, I want to move here, come on mom, I want to go there. At a time when I thought her body was giving out, instead, she seems to be the strong one, the one encouraging me to keep going, the one encouraging me to ignore the pain and get up again. And I have been doing my best to keep up with her.

I have a friend who lives out of state who calls me about once a week to check on Lucky and I. When he called the other day, I was pretty down. He started to offer words of support about Lucky's imminent departure and I had to stop him. I said, "This week, I am not sad about her passing away, I am worried that I can't keep up with her, I am worried I am going to let her down by not being as strong and determined as she is this week." I heard relief in his voice as he laughed and reminded me that my girl was being the "mom" this week and that I needed to honor what she was trying to teach me.

Instead of being disappointed in myself for not being able to keep up with her, I needed to relish in the fact that she was showing me that she could be the strong one when I was feeling defeated. It gave me a whole new perspective on things and it felt good to be reminded that Lucky and I really do have a 2-way relationship. It isn't just about me being the caretaker . . . sometimes, I get to receive the pep-talks, even if it comes in the form of barks. :-)

We had an experience at the park earlier this week that had bummed me out. As usual, when we are at the park, Lucky is quickly surrounded by children of all ages, some that she knows, and news one that she has just met. They are always full of questions (and often their parents are too), and I do my best to answer all the questions they have. Lucky was having a great time getting attention, including lots of pets and kisses from the kids. We were surrounded by close to 15 children and adults when all of the sudden, Lucky started to get squirmy and looked like she wanted to get off her wagon. I thought maybe she wanted to stretch her legs, so I lifted her up off the wagon and the second I did, there was a waterfall of pee and diarrhea coming out of her. I felt so bad, I had no idea she had to go potty.

It all happened so fast . . . I put her front legs down on the ground and was holding up her back end, while attempting to quickly formulate a plan for what I was going to do next. I needed to get her somewhere, I needed to clean up what had just happened and when I looked up, everyone was gone. Not just the new people we had met, but the people we already knew. It was as if someone waved a magic wand and "poof!" they had all disappeared.

I picked Lucky up and then carried her over to the grass. Once she was settled, I made a mad dash for my backpack to get a plastic bag, then I was back and forth 6-7 times to the bathroom for paper towels to try and clean everything up, then I borrowed a bucket from someone in the play area to fill with water to wash the urine off the sidewalk. The whole time I was doing this, there wasn't a person in sight. It was the oddest feeling. When I got back over to the grass where Lucky was, I discovered she had had more diarrhea so I was back and forth to the bathroom several more times for more paper towels to clean her up and clean up the grass. Once I finally got everything cleaned up, I put Lucky in the car, got her wagon and put that in the car and we drove home.

On the way home, it started to hit me how disappointed I felt. I couldn't believe there wasn't a single person who said, "Can I help?" Not a single person offered to do anything for us. In a park full of people, many we have known for years, I had never felt so alone. I think what bothered me even more was that I have always been so kind and so attentive to all the children we meet. I have helped clean up scraped knees, I have listened to kids tell me stories and shown an interest in everything they wanted to share with me, but when I was MY child who was having a problem, not a single person came forward to help.

I could think of all the reasons they might not have helped . . . maybe they were scared, maybe they were uncomfortable with the bodily functions that had been "expressed" . . . maybe they didn't think I needed any help, maybe it was ten other reasons, but it didn't stop me from feeling disappointed. Even though I know some people are just not wired to jump in and help when someone is in need, it didn't make it hurt any less.

Two days later, when it was a "park day" again (we go to the park on non-water therapy days), I wasn't all that excited about going. I wasn't sure I was up for it, but when I asked Lucky if she wanted to go to the park, her ears stood up at full mast and she looked so excited, I knew I needed to suck it up and take her to the park. Within minutes of getting to the park, we ran into someone we knew and his first question was, "Is there anything I can do to help?" I was stunned silent for a moment and I didn't know if I wanted to smile or cry. It felt so good to be asked if we needed help, especially since we weren't in the middle of a crisis at the time.

We had a wonderful day at the park that day. Lucky saw many of her favorite friends and she even wanted to get out of the wagon and walk a bit with her sling. The kids were very curious about the sling and asked if I would let them try using the sling so they knew what it was like for Lucky. I of course couldn't say no, so I "walked" some of the kids on the grass with the sling under their torso, while they used their arms to balance themselves. They were all so excited that they got to give it a try. Then they all reported back to Lucky about their experience and complimented her on how strong her arms must be to be able to walk like that.

When it was time for us to go, Lucky didn't want to get back in the wagon, so I put the sling back under her torso and let her take the lead. She walked all the way across the entire park, through the parking lot and to our car. Again, one of the parents asked if they could help and I passed the sling over for a few minutes so my arms could get a break. When their arm muscles started to shake, I took over again and we got to the car. Lucky looked so happy and so full of pride. I smiled as I went back to retrieve her wagon and wheeled it, empty, back to our car. I felt proud of Lucky, and was so touched that someone offered to help. It was a totally different experience from our last trip to the park.

I knew Lucky wanted to prove she was ok, that she was still strong and capable and I think she was also showing me that we don't have to let things get us down. Sure, it was a disappointing experience at the park a few days earlier, but that didn't mean all our trips to the park were going to be a disappointment.

I have always been a person who offers to help. I guess I am just wired that way but I was even more determined to pay attention this week to the people around me. When I was at Costco and saw a woman struggling to put a case of water on the bottom of her cart, I asked if she needed some help. She had it handled but the look on her face and the way her eyes got misty when I asked told me that we don't offer to help people enough. When I was at Safeway the next day and saw a man struggling to free a shopping cart, I offered to help. When we finally got it unstuck, he offered it to me and I told him that I was only getting two things and didn't need a cart. He stood there looking at me oddly for a minute and then got the biggest grin on his face. He said "Thank you for the help" and I said "It was my pleasure. Have a great day."

When I see the look of gratitude on people's faces when someone offers to help, even with the smallest thing, it makes me wonder why people don't do it more often. The simplest gestures can often have the biggest impact. I feel blessed whenever I encounter someone who offers to help, even if it's something as small as holding a door opened. My wish is that more people would step up and help one another. It may sound pollyanna-ish but I really do believe this world would be a better place if we offered to reach out and help one another more often.

Several weeks ago, when I wrote about how I had thrown my back out, someone who reads my blog regularly contacted me and asked if there was anything I needed. She said she could stop at the store on her way home from work if I needed any groceries. While I didn't need anything at the time, I was so touched by her offer, it made my heart well with gratitude. There are a lot of people out there with good hearts. I am fortunate that I know so many of them . . . quite a few of them are my clients, which makes me feel extra blessed. I have decided to be grateful for all the kind people I DO know, instead of focusing on how I felt at the park the other day when everyone disappeared.

Additionally, Lucky had reminded me that we need to stay strong and that we can persevere, even on the days when we might be leaning towards giving up. She is showing me when the trait of "willfulness" can be a positive and reminding me that she and I are strong enough to get through anything, no matter how challenging it may seem at the time. I feel light and happy when she barks at me for something, because she is reminding me that she is still here and that there is a life she still wants to have.

Today, Lucky got another bath. Yes, I am still carrying on the odd ritual of making sure she is clean, just in case. (and yes, I am still wearing good, clean underwear every day too!) We had fun being outside, enjoying the sunshine and the fresh air. And Lucky was thrilled when we got to the part where I dry her head with the towel.

Since we got back home, she has "requested" that I help her move to a different location at least 12 times already and I suspect there will be many more of these "requests" before the night is over but I am helping her move with a smile on my face and a swell of gratitude in my heart. My girl is not giving up. Regardless of all of her health challenges, she is still determined to be active. She is showing me that she is alive and wanting to do what she wants to do.

As I am typing this, I am wondering if Lucky isn't also trying to show me that sometimes you have to ASK for help. Hmm . . . not something I am really good at . . . but maybe that's another lesson for me. Maybe I need to be more willing to ask for help. I'll ponder that this evening, as it might be the lesson she is currently trying to teach me with her frequent "requests."