The Year in Review -- High-Lights, Low-Lights, and Long Nights

One year ago I'd be nervous about if I could handle the dog I had agreed to bring home with me at the end of my hours assisting in someone's home. 

Yesterday was a year since that day, and ironically we were visiting the home of the woman who was helping me moving the last of my things when the text came to my phone asking if I could see him through end of life and help as I had O'Rio Grande.  (I'd shared with the owner how I had taken O'Rio when lifelong owner was at a crossroads in her life, similarly.  He changed my life, which I've included in other threads at Lumigrate, and will share our best holiday photograph here for old times' sake.)

 2016, Mardy, O'Rio, Santa

Saying Yes to taking another "old man" dog came from a spiritual, intuitive place and required not a moment of consideration.  It's kind of like being abducted, I suppose.  I've not had these happenings until the later parts of my life, so I still marvel -- it's marvelous! 

I'd decide before going to get Tres that I'd be changing his name.  Then I heard his bark, and knew he needed a last name of "Bass", not like the fish --  like the sound.  Good friends and clients were simultaneously undergoing cancer treatments too, so I inserted a C. as a middle initial -- Tres C Bass.  It has a ring to it!  

As I left my driveway and turned on my car's radio, I had the realization that I was getting that "fairy dust feeling" that I've gotten since December 7 2003, when I first came to Grand Junction to work for what initially was going to be just three weeks.  I wasn't thinking about it being the 17th anniversary of that fateful day.  it was the season for my favorite radio station to be playing Holiday music from Thanksgiving through Christmas, which I also wasn't thinking about as I turned on the radio.  "Baby It's Cold Outside" had just begun playing.  The hair went up on my arms.  It was a sign from the esoteric / other side. 

My father had a connection to Margaret Whiting, who infamously sang it in 1949, the year he had the connection with her in Los Angeles, California.  What he was doing there, then, was rather fuzzied up, but such is the life of top secret stuff for the military.  He had been a Major in the USAF upon his retirement, when I was a child.  

He had most been an atheist, but he'd wax and wane about that in certain circumstances.  He had, from his adoptive family of origin, been taught that the other side could communicate with you, and 'they' would do the same thing, or similar things, three times in order to reduce doubt that it was, indeed, their signaling.  So I listened for more signals on the radio on the 45 minute drive to the rural property where I'd be working three hours then adopting Tres.  Nothing ..... 

I awkwardly learned how they got him into the car, and he awkewardly got into the back seat of my car.  I began driving towards the Interstate and was merging into the right lane and a big truck had moved over for my entrance to the right lane, and then signaled and got in front of me to be legally out of the passing lane for travel.  The license plate began with "333-".  

As we got into the canyon, I saw a half dozen large birds circling, low, under the level of the cliffs.  They were eagles -- 3 of them bald.  

I began crying --- tears, for me, are often when I get past the stress to 'relief'.  I was relieved.  This dog that I didn't really want, but had the insight to take, was "meant to be", apparently.  That was Monday. 

By Saturday, I was aware my daily mid-morning neighborhood client had apparently contracted Covid from the family members -- her POA had to be in attendance at nursing visitis and had done so before learning they had Covid.  I was half expecting it.  So Tres had to be alone while I stayed with the ill woman, until the hospital would finally accept her into hospice -- I'd take quick breaks to run the few hundred feet home and let him outside, then feed and medicate him or freshen the water bowl.  The poor old guy, what a transition week! 

Tres got to see me in rare form starting Monday when I returned shortly after the ambulance had come, which I'd gotten permission to call from the still-ill POA. In my delerium, I recall looking at him on his bed across the great room from me lying on the couch and thinking that every time I looked at him, he was looking at me -- for several days at that point. He looked concerned.  

The landlords hadn't yet fixed things they had said they would, and the glitchy sliding patio door, which was the better place to walk Tres from, came off the tracks.  Too weak to put it back up and seated in the track as usual, I had to fill the opening it left with the door resting on the patio and tipped so it wouldn't fall outwards, stuffing blankets around to fill the space, then taped from the inside to hold it up. 

I should have gone outside and taped some too, or rested something on the door so it didn't do what it ultimately did that Friday night. (Friday was the day I'd wondered in the morning if I needed to get medical care somewhere as the day began, and by midday the fever was gone and I started feeling less like I was about to go down the drain.)   

Just as Dolly Parton was midway through a touching song on her television special, as a storm was blowing from the west -- the direction the patio door faced -- WHAM!! .... Whoosh!!  .... in came the wind, as I got up and went to where the door would be and saw it flat on the patio, as I'd feared -- but unbroken! 

And there it would stay -- I took a trifold room screen and put it in the open space from the inside, stuffed the blankets, used the tape -- which held -- but let in a LOT of fresh, winter wind from the west.   

The boiler wasn't turning off, either, a fix the landlords got to once I was better and had the energy to deal with getting help they agreed to pay for, so it all worked out -- I had a lot of fresh air, which was, perhaps, a blessing in disguise.  Same as having to take the dog out umpteen times a day and get fresh air on my lungs AND THINK ABOUT BREATHING, meditate about my body healing, and praying.  

Of course, I had a whopping utility bill the next month to show for it.  AND a negative Covid test result just before New Years Eve!  So back to work helping I would go, starting January 3rd.  Each week another client would be in need, or new ones would come along, and pretty soon I was back to being full!  And keeping up with necessities, but needing to rest and put off other things.  I'd regain the 15 pounds I lost in three days of intense G.I. symptoms, and not worry about weight, and let my body and what sounded good to eat lead the way.  

In a way, perhaps, the C. in Tres C. Bass was a premonition for my Covid.  Perhaps he came into my life in order to save my life.  I've thought so ever since.  And since, I have not produced a lot of information about Covid, but what I have is at this link (to the forum here about colds, flu, bugs) www.lumigrate.com/forums/health-issuesdis-eases/colds-flu-bugs-sinus/allergies-alternatives/-immunizations

I was able to get him the veterinary care he needed -- he is on three medications that were originally in human mainstream medicine, which I get at the pharmacy where I do my grocery shopping.  They're inexpensive thanks to a discount program the veterinarian suggested. 

Just as clients came my way, as needed, they left as well.  To skilled nursing, memory care, assisted living, or they died.  "Boy, you're being freed up for something" one of the POA's said to me.  I could feel it, too.  Change was in the air.  It's really depicted well Mary Poppins movies, moreso in Mary Poppins Returns than the original from when I was five, Mary Poppins. And when I had returned to the same cul de sac I'd left renting on in 2014, to become "Mardy PopIns", I felt like I hadn't returned, but rather retired as Mardy PopIns, because I wasn't living in with anyone anymore.  At least, for a year, it was maybe Mardy PopIns On Time Out. 

On what would be my father's 100th birthday, just two weeks into the second year in the place, and after I'd thought "gee, no "signs" today, like I expected and asked for", a text came from the landlady.   They'd be fast selling the house and I'd need to move out, as the landlord was dying. She was apologetic. 

I was centered, and suggested I could likely find a buyer who would rent to me, if I had enough time.  Time, they didn't have; the offer the accepted occurred around the same time as he died. And around that time I was connected to someone needing help, with housing attached, that was for a wheelchair.  And Tres?  They'd had a dog that looks almost identical to him, not too long ago.  It's not the easiest of work for me, but I'm able to do portions of it, which helps.  

And so, it goes.  I'd celebrate one year with Tres by taking a nap on a couch while I helped someone who was out of town, who'd helped me with the yardwork at the new "home" --- with their Christmas tree illuminating Tres' face when he came to get me to say he needed to go out..... and I remembered ..... and am so grateful for it ALL.   (I'm sure Tres is, too.)    May your days be merry and bright, and may all your festivities be light ~~ GrateFully, Mardy