I am not a crier. For ONE reason. Once I start to cry, I absolutely cannot stop. Nothing can be done to stop my crying. It comes in waves and lasts for days. Typically after my cry fest I get sick with a cold or fever because my body just shuts down.
This has been a very exhausting 7 days. I learned that my body is toxic with iron and I had to get a pint of blood drawn. After I had the blood drawn I got chills and my bones and joints ached. I was told this is the iron being pulled from the tissues. That night I started a new medication to lower my heart rate. I was awake all night long. The med wired me. The next morning on the way to therapy I started slurring my words. I felt completly drunk/drugged. The med was extended release and it must have hit me 12 hours after I took it. My therapist had me call the doctor’s office that prescribed it because I was obviously having a big reaction from this medication. Then the specialist that has been overseeing my muscle disease case for 11 years, sent me an email that they have found a new genetic mutation and he wants to test my blood for it. After 11 years, we have yet to find the mutation causing this muscle disease. The fact that this doctor in England is still willing to try to help me, a person he has never met that lives in the US, gives me hope. During this week we have had a foster dog Jillian. A few days ago I noticed scars on her neck from her previous owner putting her in a collar that caused wounds and scarring. We knew she had had a hard life already by her submissive cowering. I wanted to keep her. Our family loved her. But I noticed I was allergic. I tried everything possible to NOT be allergic but it was what it was. We had to take Jillian back to the rescue. The beautiful part of this story is that Jillian immediately bonded with a woman looking for a dog after her own dog had recently passed away. Jillian’s story has a happy ending. When my husband took JIllian back I started to cry. This is the last time I will look at her picture for while because looking at my daughter holding her…I can’t bear it.
We decided to go to Panera to pick up some food, buy some claritin, and distract me from my sadness. It didn’t work. I started crying in Panera while placing my order. I cried while waiting for my food as my husband hugged me right there in the middle of the restaurant. I cried all the way home and all night. It was Jillian. The innocent precious being that she was. Someone was so cruel to her and YET she still had the ability to love. She still had sweetness, gentleness, and love to give. I wanted to save her. I had to be okay with the fact that we were blessed with her for a week. But the knowledge and proof on her skin of the cruel world and cruel people broke my heart. It started the tears that I cannot stop. It reminded me of my need to be saved long ago. It reminded me of my scars. My husband then reminded me of my ability to still love in spite of everything that has been done to me. Even the IDEA that anyone would ever hurt Jillian again or that Jillian would not have love the rest of her life literally breaks my soul. Matters of the heart start my tears. I then cry for every wound, every other innocent animal, or human being, or child, that has been abused. I cry for the pain and suffering of others. I cry for the pain I never allowed myself to cry for when I was younger.
My friend stopped by last night to bring me some food. Fortunately, she was able to stop my crying for a short time. I thought, Okay, I’m good. Went back inside, started crying again. Woke up crying. Woke up to anxiety and dread at the thoughts of what if Jillian isn’t okay. The strong need I have to make sure the innocent are not left alone and suffering and are loved is overwhelming to me. Just the idea that the innocent can be targeted and harmed makes me feel broken inside. This is how I have always been though. I know this about myself. I found an injured cardinal once with his mate chirping in the bush right next to him and I cried for days at the sorrow I thought that bird must feel losing his mate.
I woke up this morning and my entire body hurt. Taking care of Jillian was harder than I had expected. I realized today that I would have never set up a boundary for my own body if we kept her. I would run myself in the ground making sure she had the perfect life. At this point my body is broken. With the bone disease, the muscle disease, the toxic iron, and the countless other things going one with me, I need to rest. I know this now. But that just makes me cry more. My body is so broken I cannot save a sweet dog who only wanted to be loved. I have to accept that a week of love from our whole family MEANS something in this life of cruelty. I have to hope that for now, that was enough.
Sorrow. Innocence. Brokenness. Helplessness. Love. Loss. I cry deep in my soul for all of these things. But I never let the tears fall. I keep them inside because I know when the floodgates open, it may be awhile before I have the ability to close them again.