On Injuries, Healing, and Falling Apart

My daughter's dog Artax was her "practice baby," meaning when he was hers she did everything but put a bonnet on him and wrap him in a baby blanket. When she actually became pregnant, we all knew Artax would not do well in second place, so she gave him to my husband and me. He fit perfectly into our empty nest.

We call ourselves Gramma and Grampa to him, as in "Gramma and Grampa have to leave for awhile but we'll be back." He has severe separation anxiety, and that's a fact. He has a doggie door and goes outside to... take care of business... but otherwise he is indoors and either at my side, in my lap (all 65 lbs. of him), or close at my feet. He sleeps with us, and during the night, if Frank and I happen to move apart, we wake up to find him lying between us, head on pillow. Aside from that, if Frank gets out of bed before me, Artax moves immediately to take over my husband's side of the bed.

One morning Artax lept into bed to be beside me, and pawed at my face as a gesture of affection. Unfortunately I opened my eyes at that very second, and his long, rough toenail went into my eye. In a more alert state I would have blinked instantaneously, which would have let my eyelid provide some protection; but I was still in a groggy state and so an injury was incurred. Two scratch marks from top to bottom across the center of the cornea.


In the three hours we waited for Urgent Care to open, I kept a compress on it and focused on banishing fearful thoughts as they entered my mind. "I'm going to be blind in one eye." "I'm going to need surgery." "I'm going to have to cancel my trip to Alaska." I converted these to, "The body is designed to heal, and healing has already begun." It's great to have training that kicks in when you need it. I used slow, deep breathing to keep myself calm, and Frank used hypnosis with me to reduce the pain.


I was not the least bit angry at Artax, in fact I felt sorry for him. He realized there was a problem that he had had a hand (or paw) in, but smart as dogs are, he of course could not apply any reasoning beyond that. When I came home from seeing the doctor, I had gauze and tape that covered half my face, plus professional assurance that no permanent damage had been done. Artax cuddled up to me with his chin in my lap, but kept his paws to himself. By the time I left for Alaska three days later, I was able to replace the patch with dark glasses, and continue the antibiotic drops on my trip.


It sounds somewhat mild as I write about it now, but Frank and I were both very scared at the time and, no pun intended, I keep a closer eye now on Artax's paws.


There was a time when I would have fallen apart, but as a therapist I've spent years helping clients not fall apart, and on a personal level I've learned from my own past experiences that falling apart is easy, but putting yourself back together again later isn't. Better to avoid that problem, than try to fix it.


Sinking requires no energy or effort, which is why it is part of our nature to wind up in a low place from time to time, whether we wanted to go there or not. Rising up again afterwards is the challenge. Sometimes, some people can't recuperate alone, and the fortunate ones have others who care enough about them to help with the heavy lifting. Sadly, there are also some who, in a low place themselves, can hold us down -- because they like the company and lack the initiative to do anything but settle in and hope you'll do the same.

This is why it is so important to surround yourself with people who help make your life better, and who help you to be a better person (which isn't all about you. It's also about how you treat others). I am fortunate and grateful that for me, there is always Frank. We've been through worse than the Artax incident together, and have grown closer as a result. We have our differences, we have our own highs and lows. but most importantly we have each other. Even when one of us is "gone" (and we're at the age where this thinking is significant), one of us will still have the other, because I have internalized him and he has internalized me, and we are both better persons for it. "Till death do you part" doesn't apply to us. Nothing will ever keep us apart. There is a line from some movie or other, about a wife who has died: "She's gone, but I'm still married to her."


But enough about Frank and me. What comes to mind when I ask myself how I can offer readers something of value to apply in their own lives, is a simple technique that helps when facing a difficult choice: ask yourself, "What, in the long run, is going to let me feel better about myself as a person?" As an example, to be candid, I didn't like my mother and she didn't like me, and there were times when I didn't want to invite her to this or that event. I learned that it always feels better to be inclusive, than exclusive. It lets me feel better about myself. Maybe all those Sunday School classes did some good when I was a kid, after all. Love and foregiveness are somewhere to be found in all religions, though sometimes confined to empty rhetoric rather than actual application.

On a global level, wouldn't it be wonderful if races, cultures and religions could live out the concept of inclusion -- letting others in, accepting them rather than rejecting them because they aren't who or what or how you want them to be? But what are the odds, when there are so many individuals who don't get it.

It's so much easier to settle for a crappy fence, to let it fall apart rather than make the effort to maintain or mend it.