Pain

I've been in bed for close to three hours. I took my pain meds before I went to bed. They've not really done much tonight.

Chronic pain is a weird thing. When I'm busy during the day, knitting, crocheting, playing with the dog, scrolling through social media, pottering around doing what housework I can manage that day, I can pretty much ignore the background pain. Its there all the time, hovering around a 5. I generally don't take my pain meds during the day unless I've had a bad night, or I'm going to be doing more than usual. If I know I'm going to be out and about I take a dose before I go, just to get through whatever it is I'm doing, good or bad,because if I don't, tomorrow will be a write off.

On a bad day it'll start at around a 7 and just get worse during the day. These days I can't ignore it. It nags and grinds me down, saps my energy and my mood. So I have to start the day with the meds. Which then completely naffs my day up. Because then I can't concentrate, focus is out of the window. Walking the dog more than 5 minutes means needing a nap when I get back. Hell, sometimes just taking the meds means an extended nap. Tired if I don't take them, tired if I do. 

On top of this I have my busy, angry, hypercritical brain, swirling thoughts, words and ideas, insults from many years ago and snappy answers I didn't think of at the time 25 years ago. So if it's not my brain, then it's my body, and if I'm really lucky, it's both, shouting to drown each other out and only succeeding in creating a cacophony of misery. 

My sister came for a visit today, we introduced our dogs to each other. Lola, her dog was lovely. Queenie, my girl, was a mardy, grumpy madam who has been sulking since they left. I would have liked to go on a nice walk with my sister and our dogs. Give them chance to get to know each other on neutral ground. Instead we went on the cricket pitch for 10 minutes. I'd had a bad day yesterday so didn't get any house work done. So I had to try and get some done this morning before they got here. But because I was still suffering the after effects of a bad day yesterday and housework this morning, I was in too much pain to push my luck with a longer walk. I live in a beautiful village, with walks and fields and footpaths and scenery and its so wonderful living here. But I can't go on those walks any more. I'm stuck in the house, or on the cricket field. All because of pain.

You see pain doesn't just physically hurt. It's exhausting. Physically and mentally. It is draining putting on a jolly face because you don't want to be moaning about it, you want a normal conversation, to be out of the house around people. But then after 10 minutes you're tired. So then you want to go home. And now you're all on your own with the dual action mental and physical pain, swirling round again.

It's so difficult to explain that physical pain and mental ill health are intertwined, that they aren't two discrete issues, that don't affect each other. And that is something I really wish people could understand. 

Pain is a pain. It's an inconvenience. It's depressing. It's incessant. There is little to no respite from it, because even if the pills do work, they only provide a 4 hour break, at best. 

And that's enough moaning for today.

PTSD

 I'm not going to talk about me here. I'm going to talk about dogs with PTSD.

Most rescue dogs have some issues with loss, fear, changing circumstances and confusion over new rules in a new home. All of us who have adopted dogs have dealt with the 3/3/3 rule, and have hopefully been successful in getting a dog to settle well and become a full member of the family.

Its more complicated if the dog has been abused or neglected for any length of time, or if they have been street dog. The lack of a full, accurate history of the dog means you have to guess what the triggers are, and that needs patience, calm, and love.

My girl Queenie was imported into the UK from Bosnia. Judging by her reaction on her arrival, it was believed that she had not been in a home at all or in a very long time. She was terrified, wouldn't go over the threshold, and when she finally did, she freaked out, tried to break through windows and was hurting herself to get away from these complete strangers.

Queenie was very lucky. Despite the importing rescue having no rescue backup in the UK, Greyhound Gap were on hand to help. These guys are heroes. Lisa, Sarah and the rest of the team work miracles with dogs every single day.

They worked a miracle with Queenie. She trusted no one. Wouldn't leave her kennel, would not engage with anyone for months. They persisted, because that is what they do. 

They took their time, going at her pace, giving her time to get used to new things, allowing her the chance to learn that they weren't a threat.

She was with Greyhound Gap for 10 months. Then I was entrusted with her. 

Her first few days were worrying for her. My greyhound, Sassy was a perfect gentleman and left her to do her own thing. Gradually she started to relax and settle, but didn't want to come for attention or cuddles. I was allowed to stroke her head occasionally. After 3 months, she would come for attention. She was less hypervigilant on our walks and began to enjoy herself. She was making really god progress with a lovely steady boy to give her confidence. 

Then Sassy passed away. 

We were both devastated. Queenie lost so much confidence. Her steady boy was gone. She had to negotiate the world alone. All she had was me. And she wasn't that fond of me.

But she decided that she'd let her guard down, little by little. It was a conscious decision on her part. She was deciding to trust me. And boy has she blossomed. It's not been smooth sailing. 

She gets triggered by dogs barking, gun shots in the distance, vehicle noises, building site noise. She does not want to make friends with new people, one person - me - is enough for her. There are dogs that she will say hello to. Steady girls who don't push at her, her favourites being Betty and Annie. Alice is new to her, but she was calm, so Queenie thought she was acceptable.

What I see when I walk her is a dog thinking about what is happening around her. Considering whether she is too afraid to stay out or whether she's feeling confident enough to carry on despite the triggering noises. 

With encouragement, love and calm handling, she has made the decision to trust me, to try new things, to be naughty (yes I encourage naughty, it shows she is relaxing and feeling confident, feels safe enough to push boundaries). I don't use discipline at all. Always positive encouragement. That's to only way to support a dog who has PTSD. I give her the space to not be triggered by everything, to try new things and not to push any issues she is currently struggling with. 

And because I have given her the space to decide for herself, she has given me her affection. She plays with toys (as long as there are treats in there!), she begs, ever so politely for morning toast and cheese. She snuggles up as I work on my knitting. She sleeps deeply and happily, dreaming, twitching and grunting in her sleep. This, for me is what dog rescue is all about. Not just being a suitable home, but giving your dog the change to recover, no matter how long it takes. And every day she chooses some new thing to do that shows me she trusts me a little more today and that she is happy with me. And that is all I've ever asked of her. What she gives me, every day, is joy. The joy of watching a flower bloom, little by little each day.

I have PTSD, and so does my dog. We are healing each other a little bit everyday. I am grateful for her and I hope that she is for me. 

Its been a while

 Hello there, if anyone is still following me, I'm back on my blog.

Quite a lot has been happening in that past 6 years. 

I managed to go back to work for a while, survived the pandemic without catching covid, and worked 60 hour weeks during lock-down as everyone else kept getting ill.

Now I've been effectively retired for that past year. Burnt myself out physically and mentally during lock-down and couldn't get over my worsening physical health issues. Despite my best efforts i just couldn't get my body to do what 'i need it to do to continue doing my job.

So here I am, unemployed, unemployable - probably - and skint. But I'm making more, knitting and crochet, occasionally drawing and enjoying the process of making for the sake of it.

Life does get lonely and occasionally boring. But, and its a big but, i'm happier than I have been in a long time, maybe ever. I wake up mostly looking forward to my day, not disappointed I'm not dead. 

I've had some losses along the way. Gaia passed away at the grand old age of 14, still a madam, still a pirate princess. Before losing Gaia, Lexi, Sassy's half sister came along. Beautiful, quiet, shy girl, who was as stubborn as a mule. She lost her leg in freak accident on the field, but that never stopped her being feisty or loving. I lost her last year, arthritis and a tumour in her eye adding to her worsening health, she became fragile after she lost her lag and eventually she couldn't take it anymore and laid down and didn't get up again.

Sassy didn't do well as an only dog, so along came Queenie, a precious little girl imported from Bosnia with no rehab or rescue back up. She was lucky, so lucky to land in Stoke, where Greyhound Gap and the amazing Lisa Cartwright took her in and rehabbed her. To be trusted with this precious girl is my greatest honour and while very timid, still struggling with a lot of trauma and very easily triggered, she is learning to trust me and is proving to be a very loyal and loving girl. Although that side eye is still very much in use with strangers.

Sassy passed on New Years Eve, having never got over the anaesthetic from an emergency dental just before Christmas. A devastating loss, I will never recover from.

Queenie has settled as an only dog and i am so grateful for her gentle dignity and love.

Ups and downs are part of life. On the upside my sisters have come back into my life and we are rebuilding our relationships with maturity and understanding. I am appreciative or their desire to reconnect and that they are trying to understand why I was such a difficult child. We are all learning a lot about each other and i am grateful for that.

Life has a habit of kicking up surprises and joys as well as sadness and loss. Hardest part is finding the joys when the sadness is all around.