The toughest times...

So, I had "my Faith"...literally, and figuratively. My kitty cat was an amazing new addition to my little family I was building, and she and the girls (dogs) were getting along fine. I was also pleased that my mom didnt seem to mind her. She was very vocal-always chatty and eager to share her stories when I would get home from work or doing other things. I was noticing other little nuances with her too. For a very athletic looking cat, she was very clumsy. She would jump on the windowsill and fall off after a few steps. I didnt know if I should account it to her extra toes or what, but she also never jumped the gate that kept her in my room. She was a very good girl.

My best friend and I had decided to move in together; my mom and I werent getting along for a while and she asked me to leave. Also, my friend (whom I knew from work at the animal hospital) was not happy in her living situation either (with family) so I went from looking for a small apartment/condo to looking for a home. We had finally found one in Fremont NH, about 45 mins away from where we were currently living, but it was a newly remodeled cottage right on the river. We jumped at it, and made the deal. And then the world turned upside-down.

I was supposed to work a second ER night shift when I didnt feel right. I was very depressed and suddenly found myself crying uncontrollably. I called Ginny (my soon to be rooom-mate) and asked her to come help me. I was feeling irrationally scared, and was getting close to the scary thoughts of hurting myself. Ginny took me to the emergency room and my mom met us there-I had a nervous breakdown. I dont know how many hours I cried for, but I wasnt making sense, and my thoughts were dark. They finally sedated me enough to get through the night. I was then transferred to a mental holding hospital where I stayed for a week.

I couldnt believe what my life had come to. All the stress of working with the animal hospital and dealing with sick pets and euthanasia, the stress of not getting along with my mom, the stress of moving and buying my first house...it was all too much. They placed me on several medications but they didnt seem to work. I didnt know then that thee medication game was one I would have to play for a while. It takes a long time to get the right "cocktail". When I finally got out, I stayed away from work for a few weeks. I focused on doing things at the new house, like painting, but never felt OK. I would need to have my meds adjusted again and again, go into day programs, and then would return to work only to leave in a mess again. Finally after being hospitalized two more times, I gave up. I knew I could no longer do the job I had done before...I could no longer ask owners to sign the form to end their pets lives. I could no longer listen to stories of "I dont know what happened, I went to work/I left and s/he was FINE...what do you mean s/he is dying now??" I couldnt do it.

I tried my hand at a few other jobs, but the results were the same. I finally decided to apply for disability and give into what would be my "new" life. Unfortunately, it was not much of a life at all. I worked it out in my head the only way that made sense to me: I used to be a dog, but now I was a cat. I used to crave the outdoors, the sunshine, the activity, the social life. Now I was happy to just curl up and sleep, have small bursts of energy from time to time, but for the most part I watched life pass me by...indifferent to almost everything. Now dont get me wrong, I dont mean to bee so harsh on the cat...they just seem to live such carefree lives...or so I thought.

I have had to deal with a lot medically besides the new mental illnesses, to do with my heart. I was also born with severe congenital heart disease leading to 2 open heart surgeries, many minor surgeries, and trouble with those meds too; mostly the blood thinners coumadin and plavix. One day, my nose started bleeding, and wouldnt stop. It bled and bled, finally forcing me to go to the ER. I had to have it packed and then follow up with an ENT. When I did, they removed the packing, but it started bleeding again. He re-packed it and sent me home, to keep it in for a week. I also got sent home with narcotics because of the pain. Those were the worst days I had gone through in a while. I felt all the meds did was make me sleepy and dull-witted. I was still extremely uncomfortable. By day 3, I had had enough. I demanded them see me and take the packing out. They finally squeezed me in and took it out; thankfully it seemed to have stopped bleeding. But one good thing did come out of it. When I was finally back to normal, I realized I had a new little shadow: Faith. She was my CONSTANT companion while I was bedridden and crying from the pain. Shee never left my side. Even my dogs were sick of me being sick, but Faith...she was amazing.

I always made dogs out to be "the heroes", but they couldnt deal with all the stress I was putting out. I couldnt even feed them because I couldnt bend over. And, even as older ladies, they were sick of being stuck in the house. But not my Faith. She stayed right with me, which is where she is now, curled up right by my side. Talking to her, and petting her really did help me through these tough times. My dogs are a good distraction because they DO get me out and about, in the sunshine and socializing...but Faith is my little snuggle bug. When ever I have had "enough" of being "out" and "on", I had my little Faith to look forward to coming home and snuggling with. 

Next time, I'll talk more about her and her personality and how that in itself helps me every day. Sorry this was more about me than her, but my challenges make her all the more special and important to me...thanks for reading!