My Dependence is Great

Now that the situation is over, I am able to share it. It was too scary to think about while it was going on. You see, I almost lost Maisie.

I had let her go outside to potty, as usual. She walked the perimeter of the yard, sniff each fence post and then went to "her spot" to take care of her "business."  I shut the door, knowing she'd let me know when she was finished. Everything was as it always was. Nothing was different or out of the ordinary. Then, I heard the most horrible noise.

I opened the door to look and giant lab/German Shepherd had my Maisie by the neck. I screamed for my husband as I tried to scramble down the steps to save her. Once I was close enough, I started hitting the stray with my cane. All I could see was black fur and blood.

My husband arrived and began pulling the dog off of Maisie. He was caught off balance and fell backwards. The dog ran off and jumped the fence - probably how he got in the yard to begin with.

Maisie was shaking and bleeding. We live in the country and getting into town to our vet would take some time. It didn't look like Maisie had much time. My husband scooped her up and ran into the house with her. I stood in the yard, holding my bloody cane, so afraid I might lose Maisie.

I managed to get in the house. My husband was barking orders at our daughter to get her shoes on and searching for something to wrap Maisie in. I sat on the couch and held her. I used my sweatshirt that was on the couch to cover her up. My husband arrived with a giant towel and wrapped Maisie up. He tossed my sweatshirt on the floor. I looked at it. It was covered in blood.

Before I got sick and became disabled, I had spent years working as the Public Relations Coordinator for an animal shelter/rescue. I had done much more than just PR; I had worked every job there - including assisting the veterinarian with procedures and surgeries. I tried to remember what to do with injured animals - check their wounds, stop the bleeding and keep them still. I couldn't remember any of it. All I could think was that Maisie was bleeding to death in my lap.

What seemed like hours passed before we got to the vet. I sat in the car and held Maisie, talking to her and telling her everything was going to be okay. I didn't sound very convincing. Siobhann was crying and so was my husband.

The vet saw her immediately. She gave her a sedative and began cleaning her wounds. I sat in the procedure room and watched all of it. I couldn't leave her.

My head was running through all the times she had saved me. Like the time I fell in the WalMart parking lot and she grabbed a man by the pants leg and brought him to me. I also remembered the time Siobhann pulled away from me in the grocery store and Maisie "barked in circles" around her, forcing everyone to look. I knew I wouldn't be able to survive without her.

The vet finished stitching up Maisie and put her in my lap. She said something about how everything was going to be okay, but all I heard was the soft whimpering coming from my lap.

Maisie is fine now. All of her stitches have been removed and she is almost back to her old self. She doesn't run and jump with Siobhann the way she did before. I think she is still a bit sore. She does comes running when I fall and helps me work through my anxiety attacks. Maisie still fetches things for me, but she is a bit slower than normal.

Her recovery has been a wonderful opportunity for me to give back to Maisie. I was able to take her medication to her. I talked to her as she tried to rest. I brought her pillows and blankets. For the first time in our relationship, I was able to help her.

I can't imagine my life without her. Maisie is more than just my service dog. She is one of my best friends. Maisie is there for me, no matter what - even when she is hurt. I knew I was dependent on her for so many things, but I didn't realize how much until she was hurt. There are few things I am able to do without her and even more things she makes so much easier for me.

In a Funk: Why Do They Call It "Depression?"

The past couple of days have been rough on me; depression is not fun. I hate it when I get depressed. I feel as if nothing will ever go my away again. I know it isn't true. The "self-absorbed pity party" isn't my thing, but I still suffer from depression no matter how I fight it. I'm the type of person that "choices to laugh" and when I hit the "depression wall," laughing doesn't feel like an option.

I've tried all sorts of medications for my depression. They don't work. They only make me more tired, more sluggish and more confused. I don't think there is a pill that can make my sadness go away. How can an anti-depressant help me not to feel sad that it hurts when my daughter hugs me? How can an anti-depressant make me not feel sad when I see all the hair in the tub after I wash it? How can an anti-depressant make me not feel sad as I struggle to fit into extra large sweatpants?

Of course, my mother's method to getting over depression only makes matters worse. "Think of people in worse shape than you are in and you'll feel better," she suggests. Who would ever think that would work? Thinking of the homeless, the hungry and the people who are sicker than I am only makes my depression worse.

Searching for my "happy place" is just as depressing. Rainbows and fluffy bunnies? That is not my style. I am a realist. As a realist, I know that depression is real and I have it. I have to deal with my depression one day at a time. I cry my eyes out, yell at a train and do what I can to move on. How else can you deal with depression?

I only have a couple of bouts of depression a week, so it isn't like I am depressed all the time. I have my "semi-happy" moments as well. I can't say that I have "totally happy moments" anymore. It is hard to be completely when you hurt all the time, the bills are past due and the hand life dealt you isn't very good. I just make the best of it and keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Tomorrow will be better. I tell myself that all the time. It will be better because it means today is over and will never come back. I try to hold on to little things like that. Not sure if it helps with the depression, but I know there is always hope - no matter how depressed I may be.