30 October 2009

Last Song You'll Ever Sing

So there I was. Minding my own business driving my 40 miles home from work when I realized what I was listening to on my ipod. It was Paramore, a band that is okay, but not great. Suddenly I was struck with a few lyrics that I just had to share:

Everybody sing like it's the last song you will ever sing,
Everybody live like it's the last day you will ever see.

I know it's not anything new, but today it struck me more than it ever has. I guess it's because lately life has been "very interesting." I feel like I'm barely living day to day, sometimes it seems like week to week, and the days are just mushed into one. Not that it's boring, there are plenty of struggles, but I seem to just go on doing the same thing I have been doing. And I'm getting the same thing I always get. One more line from the same Paramore song:

We were born for this...

We really were born for this. For being here and living, for learning and loving each day as it comes. We will constantly have our challenges. Sometimes I think I will drown in mine. Sometimes they seem to overtake me. But life goes on. We need to figure out how to change what we are doing in such a way that we get things in life that are better for us. Moving forward is sometimes a huge challenge because we avoid change, even if it might be good for us.

It is time to step out. Time to reach to new places. Places higher, not lower or equal. Time to change for the better. Time to sing, like it's the last song you will ever sing. Try it in your car next time. I know I will in the morning (or later this morning.) It's time to live, live like it's the last day you will ever see. Tell people you love them. Let people know when you appreciate them, and be patient with those you aren't appreciative of. This is what we were born for. To live life and to enjoy life and to learn and grow.

24 October 2009

My Best Friend

How do you say it?
If I say it, then it becomes true.

Aug 10th. I've seen that look before. Eyes strained. Quick breaths. I've seen that look in the mirror before. I know what it feels like. The feeling that no matter how much you breath it isn't enough. No matter how fast or how deep it doesn't seem like enough. Mostly you sit or lay so that you aren't using any energy. But the eyes, that is really where I recognized it. I have seen that look before in other friends. All of them had Cystic Fibrosis, and all passed away shortly after me seeing that look.

That look, the look of being tired of the struggle. Tired of the fight to breath. Yes some of us have to actually fight to breath. It can be a constant and exhausting battle. Some days it isn't too bad and other days you just want to crawl back into bed and sleep it off, that is when you know it's bad.

He was sleeping more than ever. Hesitating more at going up and down the stairs. Coming through the door and relaxing on the floor and never breathing deeply. Even it his sleep which had been fine for years he was agitated and sometimes rapidly breathing to stay alive.

It is extra hard when you recognize that there is nothing more you can do. Nothing to help, and worst of all, the best of drugs are only prolonging (and not that long) the suffering visible in the eyes.

It was time to make the call. He had been getting worse for months. He was on a high dose of lasix, among other meds. We had been prolonging with great success for some months. But the increase in the lasix was no longer helping. Age was a factor also. At over 80 years he had lived a long time. Although it didn't seem long enough to us.

There is a hole in our family now. A hole in our hearts and our lives. Not to mention the empty bed, and stuffed puppy toy that no longer is used as a pillow for living room floor naps.

Our puppy Jack passed away on the 11th of Aug. I couldn't watch the eyes anymore. I would want it to end, and I know he wanted it to end. He was so peaceful. JG and I were there for the entire time and he quickly slept and passed.

JG gave Jack to me as a gift before we married. He had been my constant office companion for 13 years. we had lunch together on Wednesdays when I worked from home, we napped in the living room together more times than I care to admit. He constantly kept me company during treatment times at night (like now.) After 2 months I still look behind me before I roll my chair to make sure he hasn't snuggled up to the wheels like he did sometimes. I get home from work and still walk to the back door thinking I have forgotten something...

People keep asking when we are going to get a new dog. I guess they don't understand. Jack was a part of the family. He wasn't just a dog. He was a best friend. There is no replacement for that.