LadyCarrie

Dear, dear friends, I really, really appreciate your care for me. Truly, I'm touched by it (more so than you understand perhaps). I talked with Amberly last night about my getting to ER today, and she said that she would get me in. She and I were hoping Jerry could drive today, but he can't. He drives rarely now, and only for short distances, due to the unexplained dizzy episodes (another aneurysm? Please, dear God, NOoooo). Because I don't drive (Menieres), we are pretty much isolated on this hill. Most neighbors work. There are a some retired people who live in our rural subdivision, and many homes are vacation homes. When either Jerry or I need to get to an appointment, Amberly must put in for time off from work to take us. Because I don't want her to do that too often, I usually see my primary doctor every two to three months, and try to not need more appointments for myself. Jerry must keep several appointments. Jerry sees our primary at the same time I do to save one trip. Amberly takes time off from work to take him to all of his appointments in Modesto also. Amberly is as good as gold to us. Although her job seems secure, I don't want to cause her a problem job-wise. We live in a small community, and good jobs are few (most jobs are few). I realize that the right and intelligent thing for me to do is to go get X-rays; even though, almost with certainty, I would be given the list of treatments Kay gave to me, given Norco, and told to see my primary physician, who has already sent me to see the surgeon, who tells me the I need a total spine replacement. I went for a second opinion, and was told the same thing. Surely, they can do something if I break. If one of my clients came to me with this scenario, I would have strongly advised the same as each of you has been sweet enough to advise me (some clients, I would have hauled off to the hospital myself, and hopefully, with their cooperation!). I have had two rounds of physical therapy, and they did help. The physical therapist, a friend from church, told me that because of my own career training, I know these exercises, and that I can do them at home just as well. He's somewhat right, but physical therapists do things a bit differently. I do not have his training. He called me his poster child. I guess that means I pleased him. I had the electrostimulation treatments, but not the massage. He left that to Amberly (poor kid). I also have a TENS unit. It's a great device, and it's helpful, unless you have pain in multiple places at one time . Jerry is not well today. He was awake and groaning, even after OxyContin, almost the entire night. He finally dosed off at 3:15, and was awake again at 4:45, and was hurting for the remainder of the night. Prayerfully, he will be better tomorrow, and can be up again. He is up most days, and can walk short distances. Today, I'm walking him to the bathroom, because he's weaving dangerously due to the medication he took early last night, and to a lack of sleep. He has not been in pain today, which is a great blessing. He is sleeping now, so I can write. I've explained our situation in hopes you'll understand that I don't know how to do differently at this time. I'm really not trying to be stubborn, or to be foolish. Amberly has begun to think of buying another house in Sonora for our safety's sake, but this would really strap her financially, I think. Her present house is what would be about a block away from us (our livings rooms face each other, but we can't see each other's houses for the trees). She almost has her house paid for. She bought an acre of land when she was nineteen. I think she's considering using it to buy another house. It's another matter for prayer. Our house is her childhood home, so she's asking us to keep it, if we can. She had rather sell her home and her acre in order to keep ours. Don't things get muddled? Were I able to get to ER today, Amberly might have needed to explain that her mother doesn't usually have confusion, but is behaving this way due to sleep deprivation. I thank each of you from the bottom of my heart. This is my positive today: I feel loved. Blessings and warm hugs to each, Carrie

Thank you, Kay. Just posted to you on the other thread with message for Butch. ❤️ Carrie

Thank you, Kay. Please tell Butch that I am very sorry he fell and has a concussion. He's surely had a rough go of it! I send hugs, and I pray for him every day. Carrie

Kay, With your spirit, love, and drive, I think you'll be an active grandmother. Anyone that will shovel snow after surgery, will chase grand babies. Carrie

Jan, I have read some of your posts, so I'm beginning to know you. Thank you for the photo. Your littlies are precious. Carrie

Butch, I don't remember seeing a post saying you have a concussion. I'm so sorry. What happened to you? I'm truly sorry that you're hurting so badly, dear friend. Did you fall because of all that snow you have? Carrie

Dear Hoping, I shall try this again. I'm not sure what I did, but my post "took off" on me. I didn't hit Post. If it takes off on me again, please overlook my mistake. I am so very sorry that your are hurting, and are so scared. I believe I might understand something of how you are feeling. Please forgive me if I'm overstepping by believing so. I realize that no two people feel the same, and we have different situations. You have lived through so much already, and still have much ahead of you. You do have hope, as your "handle" here states. I have not lived what you are living, but I have lived through being told that my husband was going to die due to an inoperable aneurysm, which made him go into complete liver failure. We were given no hope. He did not die, but we are still told by the doctors that they are amazed that he still lives. He lives only on his hepatic vein. A few months after we left the hospital, a cardiologist friend reached out and hugged him, pounded him on the back several times, and said, "You're not supposed to be here, you know." You'd think this would be an isolated incident, but the doctors think he is so strong that he doesn't mind. Jerry just tells them, "God gave me a miracle," and smiles at them. As for me, I know they mean no harm, but my wife-heart would sort of like to kick them in the shins enough to "subtly" give them a hint. Jerry has not complained, even to me, about such insensitive statements. My family on the West Coast (CA) consists of only my husband, daughter, and me. Jerry was in the hospital in a city where we know few people, and had no close friends nearby. There were gang members causing destruction to cars on the hospital parking lot, because one of their members had been shot, and was in the hospital. They roamed the corridors, and filled the waiting rooms. Our daughter, Amberly, works an hour and a half away from the hospital, and she worked nights at the time. Thankfully, God gave me a wonderful social worker, and many supportive hospital staff. Like you, I had few people, but I learned that "God and Jesus" were enough. Had it not been for a towel, I might have gotten rug burns from the motel room carpet on my forehead. I felt alone in my valley, but God met me there more powerfully than He ever had before. I believe He will be there for you also. I am in Anticipatory Grief, as are you. Our nightmare began when Jerry got a nosebleed one morning that I could not get stopped. I have Meniere's Disease, so I don't drive. I called a neighbor, my friend, to ask her to help me get him to the hospital. She said, "Oh, my God, Carrie! I have a meeting!" She was meeting with a group of her sorority friends. Jerry is on Coumadin (blood thinner), and has aneurysms. He was in danger, but we didn't realize that his nosebleed was due to his having no clotting factors due to liver failure. It took a while before I could forgive my friend for not taking Jerry to the hospital. We never talked about it. Jerry and I went for a visit after he was home. She gave him several hugs, and told him that he had really given her family and her a scare. All right then. I made a conscious decision to forgive her; still, it took a bit of time. I agree with those who have advised you to come right out and ask for whatever your needs are. I learned that one when Jerry was in the hospital. I know now to not become angry with people for not helping me, unless I ask for help and they refuse. Some people just don't know what to do, and others are afraid you will ask them for help. I think you should accept the help, even if they give it reluctantly. Sometimes we find ourselves in situations in which we must get our needs met, even if the person helping is reluctant. You might want to request a meeting with the hospital social worker. I didn't know to ask, but she had been watching me from the nurses' station. I truly believe God gives us people when we need them most. He gave me that social worker, and He led me here to this warm and caring forum. You asked for His blessings, and He led you here. You asked for God's love. You already have His love. We all have His love, even before we learn to love Him back. May He hold you tenderly underneath His "wings" until this crisis has passed. You and your husband have been married almost as long as have Jerry and I. We will have been married 47 years on April 26. Losing him seems unbearable. This feeing I understand. It's like waiting for the "other shoe to drop," while praying it won't be today, and not soon. The uncertainty---the unknowns---are so hard to live with on a daily basis. I realize that I might die before Jerry dies. He has lived almost two years after his last surgery, after we were not given hope. I spoke with a psychiatrist after Jerry's first aneurysm surgery (15 Feb 2002), and after I my weight dropped to 99 pounds without effort (I "melted). I believed I might lose my mind if Jerry died. The doctor teasingly asked, "So, this is planned insanity?" I said, "Yes." I made arrangements with him for grief counseling should I need it. He told me that he can't do my grieving for me, but he can help me function. That will do, for I can't expect more. Jerry and I both saw him a few times together, and plan to see him sometime within the next few months. We both like him a lot. Your statement "I usually go to my best friend. . . my husband. But I can't now . . . . HE needs ME," I can 100% understand, as do most on this forum. Yes, your husband does need you. As I read between the lines, I sense that you are a strong person, as am I (but sometimes I feel more like a child who needs a lap). You will be there for your husband now, and perhaps soon, he will be there again for you. We will pray so. Please remember that even strong people cry. Tears are good. That's why God gave tear ducts to you. I will add you and your husband to Jerry's and my prayer list, and we will remember you especially on Tuesday. You will find the care and support you are looking for here. You have come to the right place, for we open our hearts and our arms to you. Blessings and many long hugs, Carrie

Dear Hoping,

Dear Kay, I gave going to ER the second day a serious thought. At first, I didn't think I was really hurt, as is often the case. A few hours later, I had no doubt I am hurt. An X-ray would confirm what Amberly and I suspect, but in truth, nothing except the things you mentioned will help. If I could stay off my feet, that would help (that can't happen). The second night, my spina bifida was excruciating for a while. I have Tylenol 3 (codeine) for when it gets that bad (feels like someone is pushing hard and constantly on the coccyx until it's about to break; no exaggeration). I'm sure the fall got it going. I'm just SO thankful it didn't break; not just for my sake, but Jerry needs my help. Amberly and I are certified massage therapists (pain institute certified). You are absolutely right in all your advised treatments. Amberly works as RN at ER this weekend. If they're not so busy, and if she can triage me in fairly quickly, I might still go in. I can't be away from Jerry long. She is nurse supervisor for the MeWuk Indian Clinic at Sonora five days a week, and works every other weekend at the hospital. She works for the tribe. Amberly and I had several Indian clients in our practice. Many prefer Complementary Medicine, so came to us. For some things, we strongly recommended the doctor who had the next office to ours (Amberly was his nurse and office manager, as well as my business partner). We are good friends with a medicine woman, Nara White Owl, and her husband, Two Walks (half Cherokee and half White). What tribe was George? I grew up being told that my father was part Choctaw, but when I did our family history, I found no proof of this. I have noticed that Anne, Marty, and Fae give you the "what for" when you misbehave, so I was a little hesitant to say that I have not gone to ER. Then I decided that they are just getting to know me, so I might be safe (giggle). As for gardening, I've had to cut way back. I used to tend to roses on two lots (150 + of them). I had help back then. I'm not even sure I can handle the yard work and take care of Jerry, 2 Doxies, do Quick Books, and take care of the house. My arthritis of my spine has been causing bending to hurt a lot for some time. I'm fine. Carrie

Dear Anne, Pine needle skiing is never a planned event, but the stances are quite similar. Once you see that you WILL be going down the hill, if you can keep your wits about you, you likely won't fall if you pretend you're on snow. Come to think about it, my "ski" trip was more like suddenly hitting black ice. Considering where you live, I'm not sure you're familiar with black ice. It's definitely something you don't want. I have been thinking of you, and all you're going through. You are having such difficulties, and with such a good attitude. You are certainly an inspiration to me (to us all). Thank you for being you. I am practicing just "being," as you said. When I was working underneath these 150 ft. pine trees Sunday, I was thinking that the peace I found there may be just being; if so, then I'm at least partially successful. Although I can slow the motion of my body (unless I'm on a pine needle-covered hill!), I'm having difficulty slowing my mind. Thoughts fly through my mind so fast that sometimes I can't remember what the thought I had a second prior was. When someone says to me, "Hold that thought," I'm never sure I can. That's due to my age, and my concerns, I'm sure. Unfortunately, these thoughts come often during the wee hours of the morning (you know, the "What do I do if . . .?" kind of thoughts). Blessings, Carrie

Seventy degrees here at the 4500+ elevation level in the Sierra Nevada Mountains (12 to 17 air miles to entrance of Yosemite National Park) is unusual for us also. We are used to the blizzards that both Butch and Harry have been experiencing. Kay is right in saying that we will be hurting for water this summer. The forest here is already suffering worse than we've ever witnessed. Had our temperature not beckoned me to the yard Sunday afternoon, I would not have taken my unplanned ski trip down a slope using pine needles rather than snow. I've "skied" down our sloped yard and terraced areas too many times to count over the 33 years we've lived here, but have always managed to stay on my feet, either standing or squatting, but not this past Sunday. I didn't see this one coming. I was raking backward. I was down on my bottom so fast that I had no time to ride it out as always before. I remember thinking as I landed, "I almost fell. No, I DID fall!" This time, I skied no farther than two feet before hitting the ground flat and solid. On my way down, I hit a concrete decorative wall with my back (2 inches to the right of my right SI joint), and moved the two-inch thick lid of the wall over a few inches. Jerry said that the lid is not easily moved. I would have thought I could not have taken such a fall without breaking my back (broken before) or a hip, because I was born with (minor) spina bifida, a double curvature of my spine, and about a decade ago, I was diagnosed with "severe and advanced spinal arthritis," which has progressed with age. God is good. Although as some of my Southern relatives might say, I am "all stove up," I can still walk and take care of Jerry. Amberly and I believe I have a fracture, but I will heal. I have some solid muscle spasms over a good portion of my spine. I know the treatments, and will do them. After this last diagnosis, I went to see two highly-recommended surgeons. Both told me that I need a total spine replacement, and that they can't do such. My long-time gynecologist showed me from one of his medical books that it is possible that my SI joints can be "ground" in such a way that might help. I don't know if he's right, and as bad as that sounds, it gives me hope. I'll take it. My primary doctor tells me to walk on flat ground only. That can't happen unless we move away, for once we get off any deck of the house, we will either walk uphill or downhill. I'll just be more careful. I will get to my gardens for as long as God allows, and as long as I can wriggle off the decks. My garden is my church (one of them), so I must get there so long as is possible. We used to have an American Indian friend/neighbor lady, who in her latter years (lived to be 105), worked in her yard while sitting and scooting along the ground. She is my inspiration. If Grandma Annie could do so well, I need to try as hard as I am able. My positive is that I did not break my back or my hip, and that I can still walk and do my work (no other option since Jerry and I are here alone all day). I acknowledge pain. I downright whimpered and felt quite sorry for myself the first and second nights; nights are always worse, whether the pain is physical or emotional, as we all know. By evening, my SI joints, and other parts of my back, including thoracic and cervical, tell me, "No more for today." I will be fine soon, I'm quite sure, for I must. I ask God's blessings for all of you today. Carrie Sent from my iPad

May God hold you tenderly, and in a special way today. May He bring you comfort, strength, and stamina. I care that you are missing and yearning for your loved one's voice and arms (hardest of all losses to bear, I think). Hugs, ❤️ Carrie

Dear Littlebee, You write whenever you want, and only then. It's all right. We do understand, and we think of you even when you don't wrire. Of course, I'm always delighted when you are here with us. ❤️❤️ Blessings, Carrie

Kay, Thank you for sharing the photo of your Lucky Girl. She looks sweet. It helps my feelings that you understand how I feel about Catey Elizabeth. Catey was the most obedient of any of our Doxies, but she wasn't loved more. She was especially not loved more than Ashely. Ashely was smaller, and much more sensitive than our other two. Each of the other two are precious also. It seems like we can't stand to lose Callie or Beauregard, but we will likely lose Callie within a year due to kidney disease---just the same way we lost Ashely. Callie was diagnosed just ten days after Ashely died last October 10. Callie and Beauregard belong to Amberly, but they've lived in our house since they were a few weeks old, so I've been Grandmommy to them. I never considered me to be so until you spoke of your grand doggies . I've considered myself Mama Doxie to all of them. I hate that you've cried when you've looked at your photos, but in a way, your crying when you looked lets me know that you understand my crying. I don't know that I can ever feel comfort by looking (I was beginng to feel abnormal). I am very thankful that I have so many happy memories of them though. I'll happily settle for not bursting into tears. I grew up being told that I'm too sensitive. I acknowledge that I am. Were I more sensitive, my nerves would be hanging on the outside. One of my sisters told me that it's all right that I'm sensitive, because my sensitivity makes me sensitive to the feelings of others. I hope that is so. I think my being so sensitive might have made me feel like I just couldn't have a dog after Catey died. It was not so much that I felt disloyal (some of that also) as that I never wanted to hurt that badly again. At that time, I was protecting myself, and not thinking about how I could help another one. I look at this differently now. Jerry and Amberly reacted differently. They said that having another Doxie would help them heal. That settled it. I tried to guard my heart, but that lasted until we saw the first photo online of the baby we were to become parents of. That was Callie. When I saw her sweet little face, I told Jerry, "We're pregnant!" My maternal instincts kicked in, and I loved her before I held her. So much for my never having another dog, huh? Amberly fell in love with Beauregard during our first visit to San Diego to visit Callie (He bit her in play, and she bit him back; it was love at first bite). Then she told me that Jerry really liked the little Black and Tan girl. She became our Ashely Rose, the wee girl who some would have called a runt (but not within my hearing!). Within six months after losing Catey, we had a house full of Doxies, I became incredibly busy with feedings and potty box training. Amberly asked me to keep Beauregard for three weeks. I've been keeping that little ole red hound nearly fifteen years. All three took root right here. Now we've lost one, the other two are old, and one has kidney disease. Beauregard is partially deaf and partially blind, but still loves to play. Callie's legs are so short that she's built like a little rectangle. She has no sense of balance for a lot of running and jumping; instead, she likes small, soft squeak toys with which to fill her bed. Just listen to me. I've gotten entirely wound up talking about our Doxie babies. Actually, I was just going to say Thank you, and go to sleep. I've had a bit of a fall, so I need to take my medicine and say Goodnight. Carrie

I am praying for you also, dear Butch, throughout each day. When Jerry listened to Christy Lane's version of "One Day at a Tme" last night on YouTube, and sent the song and lyrics to me, I thought of you. My heart hurts for you, as do the hearts of all of your extended online family. I'm asking God to bring calmness to your spirit, and to give you the peace that surpasses all understanding (supernatural). You don't need to be strong right now. I think you need to be held, and rocked like a baby. Likely, many of us here would gladly do that for you, if only we could. You can sob, and you can wail. Do whatever you need to release some of your emotion that you controlled for so long. If you can, try to give yourself at least small breaks between periods of crying, so your body doesn't become so totally spent. Whatever you feel is all right. You are loved. Carrie

Several years ago, one of my closest friends was still in raw grief after four years. She is a very private person, and did not do well in her grief counseling group. She felt like no one there understood her grief; for in her judgment, no one there had ever experienced the depth of love that she and her husband had shared. She believed the groups' socializing confirmed their lack of understanding. She believed no one could possibly understand, for few have been blessed with a love so deep. I believe her grief blinded her to the depth of love others have for their spouses, and this caused her to misjudge others. She came to know that Jerry and I do understand; therefore, she asked me whether I ever wish I had never met Jerry, so that I could avoid the pain that is surely to come to one of us (she told me that she hopes I die first, for Jerry is stronger than I, and my grief might kill me). I responded that although I would do almost anything to avoid the intense grief that is to come, I would choose to change nothing. I would still make the same decision to love this deeply, and then to suffer whatever I must. She said that she wishes that she had "never laid eyes on" her beloved husband, because the pain is too great a price for her to pay. At first, I could not believe she means this, but I think she really does. I was quick to give her my answer, but later, I gave all she said some serious thought. I asked Jerry to do the same, and then we would talk about it. After thinking it through, Jerry's answer to me was that he would choose the depth of our love despite the pain that is to come. I'm thankful my friend gave us opportunity to have this discussion, for one of us will need to know the other felt the same way. Pain is the price for love, and the price is according to the depth of the love. This is my belief based on my love and my life experiences. My friend is still in raw grief. She seems to be almost as she was in the beginning. Her son told me recently that he really believes she is losing contact with reality, and is cutting herself off from family now, as well as from me. She left our area, because she said that she is not strong enough to handle my grief due to Jerry's complicated health issues. She said that she cannot watch his health deteriorate. She did not tell me she was leaving until after she had done so. I was angry with her for a while, and felt like she "ditched" me when I needed her most. Amberly helped me realize that she could not help ditching me. Amberly knew her well, because Amberly used to be her nurse. My friend broke all contact with me, and with no discussion. I understand that she cannot add my grief to hers. I hurt for her. I wish so much and often that my friend had found this forum. I believe she could have learned that others love as deeply as she, and that she could have had the understanding, support, and help she desperately needs. This forum likely could have been her lifeline, and her sanity saver. She appears to shut out the people who try to help her, because she believes no one can understand (I was the one exception). She felt humiliated by people, including her physician, who told her that it was past time for her to stop grieving, and that it was time to move on with her life. She questioned, "What life without Tom?" Carrie

Dear Kay, I envy your being able to have random pictures of your precious doggies come onto your computer screen. I'm working on becoming able to do such. I'm trying hard. Thank you for the hope, for hope is essential for healing. I'll get there, for I have determined, by the grace of God, to do so. I'm just trailing a bit (more like by a great distance). I have chosen some photos of Ashely to share, but have yet to learn how to put them here (frustrating! I'm sure it will seem easy once I know how). I also have one of Catey to share. I'm emotionally ready now, thanks to you, Littlebee, and others. You are right in saying that it's a great way of honoring the ones we've lost. Now, I especially want to honor Catey (not sure more so than Ashely), because I feel like she got left out regarding her pictures. I guess I'm apologizing to her for my cowardice. She would tell me that my apology is not necessary, for she understood that my way was due to my deep love for her and to my deep grief. Then she would lick the tears from my face. Thank you, Marty, for allowing me to share these photos, and for the articles you recommended for me regarding "Grief Work." I have read half of them. I'm deliberately reading slowly enough to be able to absorb the content of each. Blessings, Carrie

I am learning to include meditation as well as pray. If I need to do anything with the word "lotus" in it, that simply can't happen. Carrie

Dear and sweet Littlebee, I gave some thought to my posting regarding my avoidance of looking at photos of my deceased babies nearly as soon as I hit Post. Do not follow me and my way, for as has been said, there is no right or wrong way to grieve. Your way is just as right as mine, and perhaps more so, because I've begun to recognize a pattern of avoidance in me that I've come to realize as not good for me. My avoidance has suppressed and postponed grief. I believe this might be so, or perhaps I protected myself until I was able to get through the grief. I think perhaps I began to understand that I needed to stop avoiding photos when Ashely, Callie, and Beauregard were babies, for I decided at that time that when they died, I would look at their photos, and not do as I had done with Catey's photos. As a result, I think I took thousands of photos. I still tend to avoid (for I feel pain rather than comfort), but I am now determined to face the pain in order to get through it, rather than to postpone it. As I looked at Catey's photos Saturday, I felt like I did her a disservice by avoiding her photos; for now, that seems disrespectful to her. My looking could not have helped her. If there is a way to feel guilty, I seemed to find it. I'll try to do better. Because Jerry and I both tend to avoid looking at photos of those we've lost, and because neither of us want to avoid photos of the one of us who dies first, we've begun to practice looking at photos of Ashely and Catey. This applies more to me more than to him. Jerry and I looked at photos of all of our babies this weekend. This looking was bittersweet for both of us. We shared laughter and tears. You and I both are hurting, and are trying to find our way through grief and guilt (actually remorse) for things we wish we had done differently, which is common. We will hold each other, and will get through our pain together. There are others here who share our pain, know it well, and will help. Remember that there is no right or wrong way to get through grief. Try to find ways that help you most to feel better. I am in the process of reading the articles that Marty recommended for me, and am gleaning helpful ways of dealing with the pain of grief. You might want to read them also. I have my husband and daughter, and you have your husband and son. Like you, I have no one else locally. Amberly works five days a week, and every other weekend at ER at the hospital. Without Jerry, I would be isolated on this awesome, but sometimes treacherous, mountain. Without him, the quiet would deafen me. You and I both have the care and support of our online extended family. We have enough. God will give us who and what we need, but only one day at a time. That is enough, but sometimes this does not seem so. We will get through this, and will perhaps be able to help others by what we learn. If we can help others (even one other), then good will have come from bad. Hugs, Carrie

Thank you, Anne, for your words that give me peace, comfort, and freedom to be me. I have just recently learned of Megan Devine. I like what I've read. I'm collecting words of wisdom. I'm learning from you, and from others here. I'm appreciative. Carrie

Thank you, dear Marty and Kay. I think I'm learning that avoidance is a mistake for me. It hurts. I run (I split!). Running doesn't help; instead, it postpones pain. You would think that I'm old enough to have learned this lesson. Perhaps I learned in early childhood to put the pain away, because I received no help by being open (I'm being more open here than I've ever been, I think). I don't think I was aware that I react to pain with avoidance until we thought Jerry was going to die. I didn't know where I was going, but I intended to go "somewhere." I felt like I had to be anywhere but where I was. When I look back at how I've handled pain, it's the challenges that I face head on (even if years later) that I get through (not over). I hear the words "grief work" here, but I'm not really sure what the work part is (the How to?). Blessings and hugs to both of you. Carrie

Dear Lisa, Just a note to say that I am thinking of you, and that I told Jerry about you. He will pray with me within a few minutes for you also. Right now, we are just waking up, are still half-lidded, and are in need of coffee. You are going through more than one person should have to bear. I can only imagine how you feel. I can't really even imagine, because I have not suffered so much loss at one time. May God shelter you underneath His loving "wings" (in His arms), and give you healing, comfort, strength, stamina, and peace in your heart. Others are better qualified than I to direct you to resources that you will find helpful, and will give you hope to heal. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ Blessings and hugs, Carrie

Dear Mommy1201, I am not a counselor, so I'm not qualified to advise you. I'm sure Marty, our moderator and counselor, will contact you soon after she reads your heart-wrenching story. She is located in Florida, so she likely won't see your post until tomorrow morning. I am in CA, so although it's late, I'm still awake. I was just about to go to sleep, but then saw your post. I can tell you only that I hurt for you, and that I will be praying a lot for you. My heart goes out to you, and I send you many warm and long hugs. I don't know if you are still online, but if you need to talk now, you can either write here, or email me. I don't want you awake, hurting, alone and needing to talk. I will wait half an hour for you to contact me, if you are wake still, and would like to talk. I will go back and read your post carefully for details. For now, I'm just trying to let you know that I'm still awake and here for you. I'm sure a lot of the caring family on this forum will be here for you very soon, and we will all be here for you, and will stay with you. My husband automates redi mix concrete plants. I'm wondering if I'm familiar with the company your husband drove for. Lots of hugs and squeezes, Carrie

Dear Littlebee, Kay is right. How could one not get lost in those eyes? Truly, the eyes of animals show their sweet souls. I guess I'm a bit different from some people. I find myself avoiding Ashely's photographs, because the pain hits so hard when I look at them. Her eyes, especially in her last photos, make me cry, "I want her back!" I have begun to force myself to look at her photos, so that I can get used to looking at them. I don't know that it's working one bit yet. Some make laugh and cry at the same time. When we lost our little red sable girl Doxie named Catey Elizabeth, in 2000, I put her photos away, and could not look at them. When I look at them now, I hurt all over again. I've learned that it didn't help to put them away, for now it feels sort of like I just lost her. Perhaps had I not been a coward back then, maybe I would be "used to" her photos, and I wouldn't hurt now. I'm not really convinced. I tell myself that if I can force myself to look at the photos of Jerry (husband) standing on the spot that will someday be his grave, I can look at Ashely's photographs. It likely sounds strange that I look at the photos that I took of the plot we purchased recently, but I do it in an effort to prepare myself. I am trying to face a challenge that I cannot avoid. I took the photos so that we will know exactly which plot we bought. Jerry stood on it for the photo so that there will no doubt in future. We both felt such emotion while I took the photo, and we knew we were talking in the language of "Heart to Heart." If sharing photos of Ashely with you would ease your hurt, I would send some to you right away. I know that won't help though. I'm sorry. I have many photos of Ashely, as well as of her two cousins, Callie and Beauregard, who live with us. I knew through the years as I took them that I would be tempted to avoid them (like with Catey's photos), but I determined that would look. I do, but it hurts SO badly. I'm not finding comfort from them. I feel pain and longing instead. Ashely and Callie slept with Jerry and me, but now Callie sleeps with Amberly, our daughter, due to Jerry's health. Callie and Beauregard belong to Amberly, but all three babies lived with us for fourteen years (all 14 when Ashely died). Living with three Doxies at the same time has been a chaotic, often hilarious, experience. The only change I would make is to bring back our little Black and Tan girl baby. We bought them from a breeder near San Diego. We needed to make that long drive several times, beginning soon after they were born, before we were allowed to bring them home with us. We brought Beauregard home first, because he is five weeks older than our girls. Ashely was one day older than Callie. What happy days we've had with them! I can't imagine being "Doxieless." Because we have been in the Valley all day, I'm quite tired, and I am sure my writing is a mirror of my scattered thoughts. I'll try to write better tomorrow. I just wanted to drop in tonight to let you know that I'm thinking of you, and that I care that you're hurting. I'm so glad you have your other babies to bring you comfort, yet the others definitely cannot take the place of the one lost. Each is very special in his or her own self. I'm glad we have Callie and Beauregard, but I still miss my wee girl SO much. Hugs, Carrie

Dear Friends, Jerry and I are back home from Modesto safely. We are quite tired, but fine. Jerry's lab results were good. One lesion was a basal cell, and all margins were excised. The other lesion was just an upset hair follicle. The fog was dense, but not terrible. We could see at least the distance of what would be a city block. That's not good, but not so bad that our driver had to stick his head out the window to find the center line. Thank you all for caring about our safety. I'm glad to have an update regarding Butch. Thank you, Kay. I'll see you tomorrow. Jerry's been sitting up snoring, so I'd better say Goodnight. Carrie