Listening ... listening with my heart ...

My sweet Ahnung had a good day yesterday and a restful night. The pain meds must be working ... I am beyond grateful for that. She also continues to spend time by the healing river rocks in the living room, intentionally choosing to nap by the rocks a couple times a day.

About an hour ago she followed me around. It was obvious she wanted to go outside. Her siblings were outside playing and since she had just gone potty I wasn't sure why she was wanting to go out again ... maybe to play with Legacy? I continued working. She came up to me again and kept staring at me. Then standing up and turning around as if to tell me to follow her. So I did. I brought her siblings in from outside and let her out. She very intentionally and purposefully went to the tree and laid down under the tree. She has never done that before. I have come to learn that Ahnung does everything with intention and purpose. She quietly laid by the tree for 30 minutes, then asked to come in. When she came, she immediately went to lay on the rug in the living room by the healing river rocks. She continues to lay by the rocks.

I have no doubt Ahnung is trying to tell me something. I have no doubt she has a reason for why needed to sleep by the tree. I must admit it brought up lots of emotions for me ... emotions of deep sadness as it was on July 2, 2007 when I made the heart wrenching decision to let my sweet boy Shadow go. He had been diagnosed with intestinal cancer and was given a few weeks. I brought him home so we could enjoy his last days/weeks. In the early morning of July 2, 2007 Shadow burrowed himself by a tree in the backyard by the memory stone. He had never done that before. I knew at that moment he was telling it was time to set his spirit free. Later that morning I took him to Lake Harriet Veterinary and held him tightly as his spirit was set free. I don't believe that is what Ahnung is telling me now. I know she is telling me something ... in my gut I believe she is doing all she needs to do to get the healing she needs from all the various sources in the universe. Maybe she is reaching out to Shadow, and every time she lays by the river rocks she knows she receives healing energy and love from a large community of supporters and friends.

Dear sweet girl ... I will keep listening. I will keep opening my heart to listen to what you need. Continue to guide me to do what is in your best interest. And dear sweet Shadow, know that you are still missed :)

Shadow ... July 2, 2007. I still miss you angel boy.

Shadow

Shadow as a youngster.

I don't why ... but this morning I found myself thinking of Shadow, and I simply couldn't get him out of my mind. Not long ago, he appeared in my dream .... and in my dream, he had his paws crossed just like he does in the photo on the left. I remember the day I rescued him ... it was a hot summer day in Tulsa, Oklahoma after a hill workout on "killer hill" ... on our way back home my ex and I saw this skinny, scrawny black dog with ribs protruding cross the country road in front of us. We pulled over and coerced him to get in the car with us. He was scared and I held him as we huddled scrunched in the back of my ex's hatchback. He was in bad shape. We later learn he has been shot ... shattered lead from a bullet still remaining in his skull with the top of part of his ear taken off but had healed (how amazing our bodies are!) ... for the first few years he was with us he had horrible seizures that often hit around the full moon. I remember the first time I witnessed him have a seizure. I felt helpless and scared as I held him. When we moved to Minnesota his seizures subsided ... must be he wanted to get the heck out of Oklahoma!!

Shadow was my houdini dog ... he could escape from places and wiggle his way out of tight crevices. He was without a doubt a street smart dog. After his sister Shen died on 9/15/2006 to spleen cancer it seemed like a part of him died too. Then on July 2, 2007 we lost Shadow to intestinal cancer. I found the following emails as I was going through my old emails remembering Shadow this morning:

-------------------------------

June 19, 2007 3:55:53 AM CDT

Shadow in June, 2007 ... a week before
we had to say goodbye.

I sent the email below to fellow volunteers at Pet Haven.  Many of you are aware that it was 9 months ago when we lost our sweet Shen to spleen cancer.  We are now faced with the impending loss of our boy Shadow.  Tonight has been a rough night.  He has woken me up twice tonight.  This last time he was vomiting.  He has had good days sprinkled with not so good moments.  The vet warned us that he may decline rapidly.  Moments like now make me realize our days are numbered.  His sister Missy knows. As I lay curled up with Shadow on the floor on their large LL Bean dog bed, Missy joins us and presses her body against his, and licks my face.  Two dogs and half a human body scrunched up on a dog bed.  Moments like these are what I will cherish.  

As Shadow approaches Rainbow Bridge, please keep him in your thoughts and prayers.  May we have many more days under the sun with him,  and may we have many more days blessed with his presence, and may our hearts know when it is time to let him go.  

-----------------------

Sent: Monday, June 18, 2007 9:50 PM

We had our surgical consult for Shadow at the U today, and a couple more tests.  We are awaiting the final report by the pathologists on the biopsy of the mass in his intestine, but preliminary results confirm he has a very aggressive cancer. Surgery carries too much risk for a dog his age (11 and a half years), and after much thought and reflection, we have decided to not put him through major surgery.  We will continue to work with our regular vet and try to make his last weeks (and hopefully months) as comfortable as possible through diet and alternative treatments.  For now, he still has a spring in his step and if it weren't for his occasional vomiting and losing weight, you would never know he is walking the final road of his incredible life's journey.  He continues to patrol our backyard, fixating on squirrels in our neighbor's yards.  Our four-legged friends are simply amazing -- their stoic nature hides symptoms of cancer till it is too late.  In some ways, I wish he would've complained sooner.  Other times, I am reminded of how much humans can learn from our four-legged friends.

We are grateful for the time he has given.  We are grateful for the opportunity he is giving to us to say goodbye -- nine months ago cancer took Shen so quickly that we did not have time for a proper  

goodbye.  Now we have a chance to savor the gift of his presence.    

We will fill our hearts with Shadow moments, which will become our precious memories.

I created the following video shortly after Shadow died ... my tribute to this furry angel who touched my heart, my life and my soul ... I still miss you little boy:

Bridge of Life

I decided to re-post a blog entry I wrote last July 2, 2009 ... today is Shadow's 3 year anniversary. I still miss you sweet boy ... interestingly, as I re-read my blog post from a year ago I realized that I am returning to Fairview Southdale hospital ... this time for additional tests (an ultrasound and possibly biopsy) as last Friday I went through a breast MRI and unfortunately a tumor was found in the same area of my breast where two lumps have been removed in the past year .... the word cancer has resurfaced as I walk this path ... for today, though, I remember and honor our sweet boy Shadow .... we still miss you and hold you in our hearts.



July 2, 2009 Blog repost:


Today is the two year anniversary of when we lost our beloved Shadow to intestinal cancer. I share a video i created shortly after he died, celebrating his life, through Ahnung's blog. He was first diagnosed with intestinal cancer on June 18, 2007. We were told it was an aggressive cancer ... our decision was to make his last weeks as comfortable as possible. After two weeks of sleeping with him downstairs on the couch as his body fought desperately to ward off cancer cells that had ravaged his body.... I realize now, his fight to hang on a little longer was for my partner and myself; he was giving us time to accept that it would soon be time; he was giving me the time I so desperately needed because of how quickly Shen was taken from us just eight months prior, also to cancer. Early July 2, 2007 he made it clear to me by digging a hole in a bush in our backyard by the memorial stone that read "if tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, i'd walk right up to heaven and bring you home again." It was a stone I bought shortly after the passing of my first dog. Yesterday morning at 6:40 am, I pulled into the parking lot across from Fairview Southdale hospital for a 7 am appt for a breast MRI. As I was sitting in the waiting room, I became aware of how a five letter word "cancer" has moved to the forefront of my consciousness. I found myself thinking of Shadow, his upcoming 2 year anniversary -- how we lost him to intestinal cancer; how we lost Shen to spleen cancer; and how just last week I learned of a close family friend and my childhood bestfriend's younger sister dying from cancer; I also remembered my dear friend Elaine whom we lost to breast cancer on April 17th. Here I was in the waiting room, getting ready to take a test -- one of many more to come -- to see if any of the abnormal cells in my body had turned to cancer. A kind, gentle nurse came to get me from the waiting room. She explained every step of the procedure, from putting an IV in my vein so that they could push "contrast" into my body that would highlight abnormal cells in the images ... to the amount of time I would be spending in the "tube", the noise, the importance of laying still, the emergency button I could press if I couldn't stand it anymore and had to get out ... and all the while how she would be communicating with me the entire time. I am laying face down with ear plugs to drown out the loud noises The nurse Linda asks "are you ready?" as she gently touches my left arm ... connection and reassurance from that simple touch. I say "yes". She lets me know she's leaving the room. A minute later I feel myself shifting ... I can't see anything but all of a sudden feel the air tighten around me. I know I must be in the tube. There's less air around me and for a couple minutes I feel my heart rate rising and panic sets in, "I can't do this for 30-45 minutes! I have to get out!" At that moment, I realize I have a choice and I start talking to myself, "Breathe. Imagine yourself scuba diving in the open water with dolphins and turtles. Breathe." I reach out to my father and ask him to stay with me through this. He does. And in less than 5 minutes I have crossed a bridge where I have left panic and entered a state of calm ... and in the ensuing 40 minutes i experience all of the following: loud noise that sounds like gun shots and clicks, my body vibrating from the machine, waves piercing through my body, moments of eerie silence, and a cold sensation radiating through my veins as the "contrast" is pushed into my body through the IV in my left arm. Yet through it all, I am calm, and I am grateful for the calm. There are many bridges we will encounter through our life. Yesterday morning, I had a chance to cross the bridge of facing fear and panic and reaching deep within myself to find a place of peace. We are capable of so much more than we often think we are ... our minds are extremely powerful. We have the ability to create and build whatever web of life we want .... and some day, we will all cross the final bridge as Shadow did two years ago today, and Elaine did a little over two months ago. My wish, is that when that day comes for me, whenever that is, that I will cross the final bridge with the same level of grace, peace and acceptance. It may be the "final" bridge in a world we live in now ... deep down, though, I believe it is the bridge of eternity. Today I leave for the Philippines to pick my mom up and bring her back to the States. Soon I will be reconnecting with relatives back home and building a new bridge with my mom.


My wish for today:


May we embrace life and consider every "challenge" as an opportunity to build or cross a bridge. May we nurture our roots and plant seeds so that the web of our lives are far-reaching with tentacles touching the hearts and souls of all beings ... in all planes of existence. And may we bend, flex and embrace all that life offers us as we leap forward to reach beyond our comfort zones.

The bridge of life ...

Today is the two year anniversary of when we lost our beloved Shadow to intestinal cancer. I share a video i created shortly after he died, celebrating his life, through Ahnung's blog. He was first diagnosed with intestinal cancer on June 18, 2007. We were told it was an aggressive cancer ... our decision was to make his last weeks as comfortable as possible. After two weeks of sleeping with him downstairs on the couch as his body fought desperately to ward off cancer cells that had ravaged his body.... I realize now, his fight to hang on a little longer was for my partner and myself; he was giving us time to accept that it would soon be time; he was giving me the time I so desperately needed because of how quickly Shen was taken from us just eight months prior, also to cancer. Early July 2, 2007 he made it clear to me by digging a hole in a bush in our backyard by the memorial stone that read "if tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, i'd walk right up to heaven and bring you home again." It was a stone I bought shortly after the passing of my first dog.

Yesterday morning at 6:40 am, I pulled into the parking lot across from Fairview Southdale hospital for a 7 am appt for a breast MRI. As I was sitting in the waiting room, I became aware of how a five letter word "cancer" has moved to the forefront of my consciousness. I found myself thinking of Shadow, his upcoming 2 year anniversary -- how we lost him to intestinal cancer; how we lost Shen to spleen cancer; and how just last week I learned of a close family friend and my childhood bestfriend's younger sister dying from cancer; I also remembered my dear friend Elaine whom we lost to breast cancer on April 17th. Here I was in the waiting room, getting ready to take a test -- one of many more to come -- to see if any of the abnormal cells in my body had turned to cancer. A kind, gentle nurse came to get me from the waiting room. She explained every step of the procedure, from putting an IV in my vein so that they could push "contrast" into my body that would highlight abnormal cells in the images ... to the amount of time I would be spending in the "tube", the noise, the importance of laying still, the emergency button I could press if I couldn't stand it anymore and had to get out ... and all the while how she would be communicating with me the entire time.

I am laying face down with ear plugs to drown out the loud noises The nurse Linda asks "are you ready?" as she gently touches my left arm ... connection and reassurance from that simple touch. I say "yes". She lets me know she's leaving the room. A minute later I feel myself shifting ... I can't see anything but all of a sudden feel the air tighten around me. I know I must be in the tube. There's less air around me and for a couple minutes I feel my heart rate rising and panic sets in, "I can't do this for 30-45 minutes! I have to get out!" At that moment, I realize I have a choice and I start talking to myself, "Breathe. Imagine yourself scuba diving in the open water with dolphins and turtles. Breathe." I reach out to my father and ask him to stay with me through this. He does. And in less than 5 minutes I have crossed a bridge where I have left panic and entered a state of calm ... and in the ensuing 40 minutes i experience all of the following: loud noise that sounds like gun shots and clicks, my body vibrating from the machine, waves piercing through my body, moments of eerie silence, and a cold sensation radiating through my veins as the "contrast" is pushed into my body through the IV in my left arm. Yet through it all, I am calm, and I am grateful for the calm.

There are many bridges we will encounter through our life. Yesterday morning, I had a chance to cross the bridge of facing fear and panic and reaching deep within myself to find a place of peace. We are capable of so much more than we often think we are ... our minds are extremely powerful. We have the ability to create and build whatever web of life we want .... and some day, we will all cross the final bridge as Shadow did two years ago today, and Elaine did a little over two months ago. My wish, is that when that day comes for me, whenever that is, that I will cross the final bridge with the same level of grace, peace and acceptance. It may be the "final" bridge in a world we live in now ... deep down, though, I believe it is the bridge of eternity.

Today I leave for the Philippines to pick my mom up and bring her back to the States. Soon I will be reconnecting with relatives back home and building a new bridge with my mom.

My wish for today: May we embrace life and consider every "challenge" as an opportunity to build or cross a bridge. May we nurture our roots and plant seeds so that the web of our lives are far-reaching with tentacles touching the hearts and souls of all beings ... in all planes of existence. And may we bend, flex and embrace all that life offers us as we leap forward to reach beyond our comfort zones.