Maggie made her transition yesterday at 1:45 in the afternoon. We took her to the vet as she was having trouble breathing and looked miserable. In the past a trip to the vet was accompanied by a rise in anxiety for her. She didn’t much relish being poked, prodded, inspected and injected. She would usually make quite a pest of herself in the waiting area and on the table. Not yesterday. Yesterday, she looked miserable and in pain. She just laid down. I had to carry her into the examination room. The doctor confirmed her heart murmur had worsened and that her lungs were filling up with fluid. He told us he could give her something for the murmur and the fluid, but she wasn’t going to get any better. She was not eating enough to maintain her weight and she was in pain. It was time.
Dr. Marmesh asked us if we wanted to remain in the room. Neither Patricia nor I could leave our friend at this crucial moment. We held her as she made her transition.
Good bye my friend. I miss you terribly. Even with the heartache that comes with your passing, I would not trade even a moment of our friendship.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
The Duality Of Life
I’ve been counting down the years ever since our two English Setters chewed through the love seat. I mean literally chewed through the love seat. In half. Stuffing all over the floor. We, of course discovered this when we arrived home from work to find them beaming with pride in their accomplishment.
That day was particularly hard at work. Murphy’s law had been in full regalia all day for both Patricia and me. And we arrived home to find Murphy had been hard at work during our absence. In case you were wondering, Murphy was not an man, but rather a manifestation of two dogs on a mission. Goal oriented. Focused. Not willing to do a job half way. Now mind you we didn’t particularly like the sofa. It was old. It was the wrong color, but it was awfully comfortable.
Cleaning up a sofa is not quite as easy as it looks: what with springs and splinters of wood to puncture the garbage bags. And it doesn’t exactly fit into a trash can either, meaning that you have to fight with it at least one more time hauling it out to the curb on trash day. Sofas do burn however, and the town was willing to overlook the springs in exchange for combustible material and they took the hewn sofa away, which gets me to my point.
As I was cleaning up after Maggie and Winston, I remember thinking ‘I can’t wait until they get old and warty’. Fifteen years have passed and our two family members have gotten old and warty. With a bit of remorse I think back to that time in New England when I wished their life away. When we moved to South Beach, Maggie used to wake me up at 4:30 every morning to go outside and relieve herself. Actually, relieving herself was only a ruse to her not so hidden agenda: to go for a walk. A two hour walk. Watch the sun come up on the beach, as long as we didn’t get caught. Although when we did, the police were usually pretty cool about it. Now she can’t make down to the end of the block before wanting to turn around and go home.
I don’t think she’s going to be with us much longer. She has respiratory issues and is beginning to have mini seizures. The vet says this is a natural part of the aging process: OLFA (old age falling apart). He says when she stands by the bed at 2:00 a.m. panting, then I’ll know its time. I’m not going to wish the remaining days, weeks or months away like I did long ago, but neither am I going to shirk my responsibility to the quality of life.
When it’s time, I will have the vet come to the house so that Winston can have some closure. His sister has been with him all of his life. He needs to be able to say goodbye.
That day was particularly hard at work. Murphy’s law had been in full regalia all day for both Patricia and me. And we arrived home to find Murphy had been hard at work during our absence. In case you were wondering, Murphy was not an man, but rather a manifestation of two dogs on a mission. Goal oriented. Focused. Not willing to do a job half way. Now mind you we didn’t particularly like the sofa. It was old. It was the wrong color, but it was awfully comfortable.
Cleaning up a sofa is not quite as easy as it looks: what with springs and splinters of wood to puncture the garbage bags. And it doesn’t exactly fit into a trash can either, meaning that you have to fight with it at least one more time hauling it out to the curb on trash day. Sofas do burn however, and the town was willing to overlook the springs in exchange for combustible material and they took the hewn sofa away, which gets me to my point.
As I was cleaning up after Maggie and Winston, I remember thinking ‘I can’t wait until they get old and warty’. Fifteen years have passed and our two family members have gotten old and warty. With a bit of remorse I think back to that time in New England when I wished their life away. When we moved to South Beach, Maggie used to wake me up at 4:30 every morning to go outside and relieve herself. Actually, relieving herself was only a ruse to her not so hidden agenda: to go for a walk. A two hour walk. Watch the sun come up on the beach, as long as we didn’t get caught. Although when we did, the police were usually pretty cool about it. Now she can’t make down to the end of the block before wanting to turn around and go home.
I don’t think she’s going to be with us much longer. She has respiratory issues and is beginning to have mini seizures. The vet says this is a natural part of the aging process: OLFA (old age falling apart). He says when she stands by the bed at 2:00 a.m. panting, then I’ll know its time. I’m not going to wish the remaining days, weeks or months away like I did long ago, but neither am I going to shirk my responsibility to the quality of life.
When it’s time, I will have the vet come to the house so that Winston can have some closure. His sister has been with him all of his life. He needs to be able to say goodbye.
And together, we’ll miss her.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Except Ye Be As Little Children
You can not enter the kingdom of God. This teaching from Jesus got me thinking over the holiday as I reflected upon 2007 and into the future. To put it mildly, 2007 was trying for me. Several doors shut, slammed shut would be a more apt description and a window was opened: A window into God.
In February, I went to India to participate in the National Immunization Day [NID] with a group of Rotarians. At the time I was a Rotarian with the Rotary Club of Miami Beach, but that is one of the doors that closed for me last year. For those of you who do not know, polio is still endemic in 4 countries and you can remember those countries through the acronym P.A.I.N.: Pakistan Afghanistan India and Nigeria. In the 1950’s polio used to kill or cripple hundreds of thousands of children year in and year out. Outbreaks would result in school closures, cities and towns literally shut down due to fear. That changed with the development of a vaccine to immunize against polio. There was only one problem: the vaccine was too expensive for all but the richest countries.
That changed with the development of the oral live virus vaccine, but this is not an essay on the polio virus.
An NID in India is truly a remarkable undertaking. On Sunday, February 11, 2007 2.4 million health care workers and volunteers set up booths and over the next week administered 2 drops of oral polio vaccine to 175 million children under the age of 5.That’s a number equivalent to 2/3’s the population of the United States, which to me is truly awesome.
After this monumental undertaking, we had the opportunity to view not just some of India’s magnificent religious and historical attractions, we also got to see Rotary projects as well. And while we were waiting for a Rotarian to meet us in a town south of Delhi, I experienced the window into God.
I’d brought my video camera along for the trip to document my journey, although I’m sad to say I have done very little with the tapes to date.
Our bus had pulled off the main highway and everyone piled out to stretch our legs. As was the case everywhere we went, we were an immediate local attraction in our own right. Children emerged from the ethers, oozed from the pores of the earth. Some to beg, most to just be a part of what ever was going on. I brought out the video camera to take some shots of the kids. As I was showing them the tape, someone from our group, I bel
ieve it was Alison, took a photograph.
Behold the window into God. It is visible in the shear joy of a child. Happiness surrounded by poverty and want, untouched by the cares of the world.
So let me ask you at what age does hate take over? When do we first begin to view the world in terms of mine versus yours? When do we forget to Be As Little Children?
I want to remember. How about you?
In February, I went to India to participate in the National Immunization Day [NID] with a group of Rotarians. At the time I was a Rotarian with the Rotary Club of Miami Beach, but that is one of the doors that closed for me last year. For those of you who do not know, polio is still endemic in 4 countries and you can remember those countries through the acronym P.A.I.N.: Pakistan Afghanistan India and Nigeria. In the 1950’s polio used to kill or cripple hundreds of thousands of children year in and year out. Outbreaks would result in school closures, cities and towns literally shut down due to fear. That changed with the development of a vaccine to immunize against polio. There was only one problem: the vaccine was too expensive for all but the richest countries.
That changed with the development of the oral live virus vaccine, but this is not an essay on the polio virus.
An NID in India is truly a remarkable undertaking. On Sunday, February 11, 2007 2.4 million health care workers and volunteers set up booths and over the next week administered 2 drops of oral polio vaccine to 175 million children under the age of 5.That’s a number equivalent to 2/3’s the population of the United States, which to me is truly awesome.
After this monumental undertaking, we had the opportunity to view not just some of India’s magnificent religious and historical attractions, we also got to see Rotary projects as well. And while we were waiting for a Rotarian to meet us in a town south of Delhi, I experienced the window into God.
I’d brought my video camera along for the trip to document my journey, although I’m sad to say I have done very little with the tapes to date.
Our bus had pulled off the main highway and everyone piled out to stretch our legs. As was the case everywhere we went, we were an immediate local attraction in our own right. Children emerged from the ethers, oozed from the pores of the earth. Some to beg, most to just be a part of what ever was going on. I brought out the video camera to take some shots of the kids. As I was showing them the tape, someone from our group, I bel
ieve it was Alison, took a photograph.Behold the window into God. It is visible in the shear joy of a child. Happiness surrounded by poverty and want, untouched by the cares of the world.
So let me ask you at what age does hate take over? When do we first begin to view the world in terms of mine versus yours? When do we forget to Be As Little Children?
I want to remember. How about you?
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
What Are You?
You might be tempted to answer that question. Don’t! It’s a self-referential trap intended to get you to apply a label, which once applied limits your ability to move beyond. Answering this question often times serves to place us into a glass box. When we try to move, think, act and get outside of the box, we smash headlong into its confining boundaries. We do that often enough and we stop trying.
You’ve heard the adage What You Are Speaks So Loudly, I Can’t Hear What You’re Saying. When you consider how we got to What You Are, you’ll find it began with a self identification. A self imposed description of who you wanted to be. The human mind is like a computer without any programming. The operating system has only one response: your wish is my command. Let me give you an example.
Let’s imagine for a moment your desire is to be a good realtor. (I’m not a realtor by the way) You start out strong, studying hard for your license and passing the exam on the first try. You receive your GRE, maybe become accredited as an international sales specialist, luxury home marketing specialist, commercial property specialist. You’re selling properties right and left. Life is good. Life Is Good!
You’re marketing yourself, your listings your credentials. People come to you for advice, which you’re happy to offer. You have a win-win philosophy for you, your clients and other realtors with whom you work.
What’s wrong with this?
Absolutely nothing, until it doesn’t work for you any more. You see your desire was to be a good realtor and you are, but you’re also inside the glass box. A box whose walls, floor and ceiling you can’t see, touch or smell: a prison of your own making.
While the example is that of a realtor, it applies equally to any self imposed description that answers the question What Are You?
Avoiding this trap is not easy. As humans it is characteristic of us to label ourselves and others. Once so labeled, we establish a boundary. That boundary then serves to discriminate, to separate us from others. I’m a realtor, I’m an attorney, I’m a doctor. The flip side of that coin is you’re not a realtor, you’re not an attorney, you’re not a doctor. Because we attach value to what we are, we also attach value to what others are. Those attached values translate into feelings of self worth. I’m a brick mason, I’m not a banker and bankers have a higher perceived value than brick masons therefore I am worth less as a person.
The truth of the matter is different. Siddhārtha Gautama upon arising from the bodhi tree was approached by a villager who asked ‘are you a god?’ The Buddha replied ‘I am awake.’ Each of us should strive to arise and awaken casting off our labels which only serve to anchor us and place us fully inside the box.
You’ve heard the adage What You Are Speaks So Loudly, I Can’t Hear What You’re Saying. When you consider how we got to What You Are, you’ll find it began with a self identification. A self imposed description of who you wanted to be. The human mind is like a computer without any programming. The operating system has only one response: your wish is my command. Let me give you an example.
Let’s imagine for a moment your desire is to be a good realtor. (I’m not a realtor by the way) You start out strong, studying hard for your license and passing the exam on the first try. You receive your GRE, maybe become accredited as an international sales specialist, luxury home marketing specialist, commercial property specialist. You’re selling properties right and left. Life is good. Life Is Good!
You’re marketing yourself, your listings your credentials. People come to you for advice, which you’re happy to offer. You have a win-win philosophy for you, your clients and other realtors with whom you work.
What’s wrong with this?
Absolutely nothing, until it doesn’t work for you any more. You see your desire was to be a good realtor and you are, but you’re also inside the glass box. A box whose walls, floor and ceiling you can’t see, touch or smell: a prison of your own making.
While the example is that of a realtor, it applies equally to any self imposed description that answers the question What Are You?
Avoiding this trap is not easy. As humans it is characteristic of us to label ourselves and others. Once so labeled, we establish a boundary. That boundary then serves to discriminate, to separate us from others. I’m a realtor, I’m an attorney, I’m a doctor. The flip side of that coin is you’re not a realtor, you’re not an attorney, you’re not a doctor. Because we attach value to what we are, we also attach value to what others are. Those attached values translate into feelings of self worth. I’m a brick mason, I’m not a banker and bankers have a higher perceived value than brick masons therefore I am worth less as a person.
The truth of the matter is different. Siddhārtha Gautama upon arising from the bodhi tree was approached by a villager who asked ‘are you a god?’ The Buddha replied ‘I am awake.’ Each of us should strive to arise and awaken casting off our labels which only serve to anchor us and place us fully inside the box.
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