RIP Nelson

Well. Yes. Thursday. It’s a day I must forget.

It got off to a bad start. I thoroughly messed up my first STAMMA support group as administrator. I was so upset! I logged in but no one showed up. I got into the car with Sheba and went to Nanaimo to do supply shopping I’ve been putting off for weeks. I just wanted out of here where I could not forget what a fuck-up I’d been.

It was a cool day and pouring with rain, but I got a lot of pet supplies for the next several months. And then I came home to a cool damp house and more misery. I got an email saying Nelson, my friend Di’s dog, had died. He developed a lump on his shoulder about 3 weeks ago and got a cancer diagnosis yesterday. He was in such pain, Di called the vet and our poor little precious friend, was euthanized yesterday afternoon.

Then I found out that London is suddenly 7 hours ahead of us, not 8. That’s why no one turned up. Ironically, the subject of the recent FND group I attended was “cognitive difficulties due to FND.”

I had no energy for anything after the email. Losing Nelson has really hit hard. I’ve never been so upset at the loss of a friend’s pet since Paula’s dog, Nick, died. I chose Nick for Pauls; he was as much ours as hers. He was precious to me, and his death hit me hard, just as Nelson’s has. I’ve always been extremely fond of animals. I can form strong bonds with them; I adored Nelson, and he loved me. When we walked together, he’s nip and my heels for attention. He was a herder.

Today, Sheba is groomed by Sarah and at 1:00, chairperson Dyan comes to discuss Federation communications with me. I’m looking forward to our discussion.

I can think about Nelson today without crying. This morning, I read a friend’s comment about a movie called Heart of a Dog.  He said this: “One takeaway for me was the philosophy that the purpose of death is the release of love.  If you have loved someone or a pet intensively and for many years, when that person/pet dies, your love is ‘released’ to be reapplied to a new person or animal.” 

I ❤️ Clinic Work

Wednesday was a lovely gentle day (except for bouts of crying about a beloved dog, Nelson, who has cancer). I walked with my friends in the morning, read with Bruno, Skyped with Dianne, and did some yard work winterizing everything. Why? Because snow is predicted for Monday! Snow! Fuck. I was in shorts and a tee mere weeks ago.

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It’s been a long time since I had a day like yesterday. In Summer, there are always things to be done. In Winter, once essentials are done, I’d always read. And read. And read.

The clinic is currently taking around 16 hours a week. Then there’s STAMMA stuff, plus essential dog walks, housework, and shopping. And emails and posting take a good chunk of time every day. But suddenly, yesterday, I had a day to be idle, and I learned more about the value of my volunteering.

Thirty-four years ago, I got into a bath and saw my life happen as though it was a movie on the bathroom wall. At first, I thought I was just watching some movie. I swear! Then I realized I was seeing scenes of my past. I was 40 years old. My trip to FND began then. I’ve long believed it was the memory of my childhood experiences, not the experiences themselves, that has crippled me.

Ever since that day, thoughts about that past and about my condition seep into my consciousness. These are not thoughts and emotions I want. That’s why I like the clinic work so much. There’s all that I do, but there’s so very, very much to think as well. I spend as much time, or more time, thinking about what to do, than I do doing it. The clinic is excellent medicine.

I’m really looking forward to my meeting on Friday with Dyan. I wrote an email to her with a proposal to build a website and I was thrilled that to get together with me was her response. I thought our meeting would give me a chance to convince her to build the site. But I’m not going to do that. 

I’m going to thank her for the meeting and express hope that, when necessary, there can be more. And I’ll tell her about how Nancy and I get together every week. Nancy and I are rockin’ our responsibilities. She says what she wants done, and I do it. But I help her to make her decisions. She is a privilege to work with her.

Then, instead of lobbying for the site, I’m going to lay out options that I can see for how we deal with the newsletter, and how it’s made. And then she can make decisions and I’ll do the finger and mouse work to achieve her ambitions. I’m far more comfortable with a question instead of an expectation.

She’s soon to be our chair. She’s going to have a shitload more on her plate. So, at this meeting, I want to get our community relations and communications strategy nailed down before the shit hits the fan. Sometimes you use a cliché. I am likely to write an essay for her on the options and short-term planning to give her when she arrives. 

 One of the greatest days of my life was the day I went into the office of the Arts Club Theatre to see if I could be a committed volunteer. I asked a cheap genius if he wanted me free for a year. I worked 7 days a week for months at a time. I was in heaven. I found a job and a family. I am still friends of the cheap genius. It was an extraordinary experience. It was the inaugural season of the Arts Club Theatre. I think it was 1973.

I feel much the same way about my work with the clinic. I’m becoming their go-to communications person. I am the executor of a committee responsible for communications, community relations and fundraising. Dyan is the head of our committee. Don is Mr. Fundraising, and I handle the other two. I’m in on the ground floor of a communications department, and I find it really, really exciting.

I also love working as part of a team. I love the shared responsibility. And … lucky me … my colleagues have my respect and admiration. I’m stunned to understand all we are doing.

We are losing two amazing men. They’ve both been on the board for over a decade, and they have been in their positions since the clinic opened. So, everybody’s shifting responsibilities as Dyan becomes chair. I’ll become the voice, I reckon, of communications at the board meetings. That’d be such a fun ride. I’m in for at least 3 years.

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The more I’m here, the more I want never to be anywhere else. 

When I’m alone, I have no symptoms—if I’m careful about what I watch on TV. Ad a person, I start stuttering, and it’s fighting to speak. And it’s tiring. And it can very frustrating. I get sick of all that fills my head when I am struggling to speak. I have none of that here, except for when I video chat. I have regular video chats with several friends. I hate dealing with technology, but what a huge benefit it brings to my life.

Nelson

Yesterday was a heavy clinic day. When I finished it all, I got to work making the pad Thai I’s planned to serve to Leo, Merrill and Issa. I had a great dinner last night and a horribly messy kitchen to clean up this chilly morning. It was clear last night, and so it’s cold this morning; it’s a very chilly 3°.

I’m placing ads for a doctor in South Africa, Ireland and in Britain. They are very expensive ads, but we’re enthused by the news about increased funding for doctors in BC. We’re now in a very competitive position internationally. 

The biggest challenge of the day was doing preparatory work for my meeting on Friday with Dyan, the supreme boss of the clinic. I want to be prepared. My plan is to present options for how we disseminate Foundation news. There are many ways to do a newsletter; I want us to make the best possible decision.

In the afternoon, I had a rather disappointing session with a Canadian FND group. It’s run with an agenda but a delightful and generous woman, Kristine, but the format of the session sucks. Kristine actually cut off discussion to keep to her instructional agenda. She was presenting slides on symptoms, focusing on management techniques. I am not at all a fan of correctional measures. I am not seeking a fix. I think support groups should be member led and not carried out in a top-down structure. I was very disappointed and will likely not return to that group.

The day ended with sad, sad news. I went to bed in tears because Nelson, one of our doggies that walk together three times a week, has cancer that has already metastasized. When I woke up this morning, I burst into tears again. We are losing a great, great friend. My heart aches for Di and Rod who love Nelson so, so much. This morning’s walk is going to be somber.

Love your pets. 

Brochure Love

I spent much of yesterday and all last night working on this brochure for the clinic. I love doing this kind of work—it combines my love of working with words with my love of doing graphics. This brochure will go with Nancy and Don to medical conferences that are coming up.

One of a 2-fold brochure; the panel on the right is the cover.

The other side. Click to enlarge both images.

This morning has been spent on email going back and forth with Kevan who does our website construction. I’ve been chatting with him about what a website for us might look like that is focused on developing a relationship with our members.

Merrill, Leo and Issa bailed on coming for dinner tonight because Issa has a fever and is feeling very poorly. So it’s pad Thai for one tonight.

I’ve not much to say because all I do is clinic work, but I enjoy short breaks with Bruno. I’m reading my antepenultimate Bruno novel. Sigh. Soon, I’ll be switching from Périgord to Venice when I move to the huge series of books by Donna Leon that I’ll be reading next.