Tomorrow, next week, next month, next year, someday. Powerful words on the mindset but not helpful in the slightest for the present moment. I am guilty of thinking in these terms as I am sure many of us are. And that isn’t to say that it is a bad thing. Afterall, I do believe in having a mindset that does focus a bit on the future. I have always been a person who sets goals. Where I misstep, is when that becomes the focus, not the general destination.
I’ve struggled a lot with this mental battle between a goal-focused mindset battling with what can be done in the moment. Oftentimes I am too impatient, wanting things to go faster or progress further than they are at the moment; this idea of chasing that crecendo of perfection. But the only way to affect the future is every single moment. The immediacy of life is lost in our day to day lives. The need to know what important meetings are coming, what to have for dinner, when to go for a swim, how can I get enough sleep to be at my best the next day. Well, nothing quite brings you back to the present like a good shock to the system. I don’t often speak about my personal life as it is the way that I prefer to keep it, personal.
For those that know (as most do), my pup Jeffery is my best bud. He’s been with me through everything and a true best friend. And the love that he gives me, I hope that I return the same in our many walks, road trips, and moments that we just sit on the beach looking at the mountains. I’d do anything for Jeff, and always have. A couple weeks back we went to play at the park, a routine that both he and I have come to love. His head hangs out the window as we drive, a smile emerges on his face as the wind hits, and I smile looking at him in the side mirror. Another “best day ever.” We get home and he drinks water, plops down under the dining table (one of his favorite spots) and falls asleep. A couple hours later, after we have dinner, he goes to stand up and finds it quite difficult. I thought that his legs had fallen asleep, as our legs do as well. But as he tried to walk more, he couldn’t use his back legs or balance. He fell to the floor, confused, a bit scared, and I will never forget it. Holding him on the floor, I told him that “everything was going to be ok,” not knowing anything about what had happened. We loaded the family into the car and rushed to the ferry, going to an emergency vet. The thoughts go so quickly, the moments take forever, it’s almost like an endless loop. After the vet gets an opportunity to check him, they narrowed it down to either a growth on the spinal cord, a disc causing pressure to the spinal cord (surgery within 12 hours), or a spinal cord stroke (the best case scenario). The recommendation was to get him to a neurologist as soon as possible the next day, in case it was the disc issue. Carrying him into the car, driving home, and setting him down on the bed was difficult. The uncertainty weighing more than his 70lb body. I was reminded that there was absolutely nothing that could be done until the morning so rest would be the best thing to do rather than stress about uncertainities. Sound advice.
The next morning was another ferry ride, but a different vet. Since it was fairly urgent, he was able to be seen by a neurologist but it had to be between already scheduled appointments and he had to stay in the back. I always feel like I am abandoning him when they do that and I never want him to feel that way. So I told him he’d crush it and I’d see him in a little bit. As the hours passed you don’t know whether it is a good thing, bad thing, or not a thing at all. I was once again reminded, don’t stress about the uncertainties. We are told he is ready to go and the moment he rounded the corner, I can’t even explain the feeling. He ran at us like Homeward Bound when Shadow saw Peter (one of the purest moments in a movie by the way). But his run wasn’t a run, his back legs were trying as hard as they could to move but they just slid out. Thankfully, he had a harness on his back legs and was being held up by the vet so he didn’t fall over. The news was: most likely a spinal cord stroke. He was still very strong in his legs, and that he essentially would just have to re-train his brain and body to walk again. I couldn’t believe it. Here is this pup who already has a heart condition he’s had since birth (collapsed quite a few times), has a spinal cord stroke, and yet has the biggest smile on his face. My hero.
Life isn’t without it’s adjusments. We rearranged the house so he could see us, I worked from the couch (thankfully I work from home) to be next to him, and he has received breakfast and water wherever he was laying down (but he wasn’t milking it I swear). We learned to do the bathroom stuff and we had a lot of talks about how it’s temporary (mostly at the beach that way he could still enjoy the view). Over the next couple of weeks, he could stand on his own. No steps, but standing was huge. We went to the park, a massive grass field that was flat, soft, and forgiving. A few steps here and a few steps there. We went back every day. More steps, less breaks. But everytime we rode in the car, he couldn’t stand and balance with the car moving to stick his head out, his favorite thing to do. But one day, he did it. The window was open, I looked in the mirror, his head out, and I saw a smile. “Best day ever."
He had a follow up appointment and he not only improved, he was given the all clear to continue to work up to walking full time. Stoked would be an understatement for how everybody felt about it. Without assistence, except for getting in and out of the car and stairs, he is doing it all now. While he is improving everyday, it basically looks like he is slowly sobering up. The back legs a little wobbly, swinging a little bit from side to side, and an occassional bump into a cabinet or almost falling over when he looks too quickly in a direction that he is not walking. But he will get there. And as difficult as this has been for me, to watch your best bud go through something that you can’t do a lot besides support where needed, it taught me a lesson that I knew, but now will never forget: one step at a time.
Adversity comes at us throughout our lives whether we like it or not. It is part of the human experience. While it isn’t always pleasant, it also doesn’t last forever. In order to endure, the best that we can do is slightly better than we did the moment just before. Just keep going forward, no matter what. They say one step forward two steps back but I think that logic is incredibly flawed because in those “two steps back,” there is a lesson learned and our life path has progressed, not regressed. I remember when I did my first long distance race and nine hours in you are kind of over it. The mind starts rushing, telling you all these things. It is about silencing them, focusing on one step at a time, and moving forward. When I swim, it’s just one stroke after another. There is no need to think about how many more laps, what am I going to do afterwards, or what I am going to do the next day. That will come, it is inevitable. But to see the joy on Jeffery’s face when he turned the corner, after enduring so much, nothing taught me more than that.