Riding Into New Sites...

Forest Park - The Basin - slowly thawing out after a long, cold winter.

Hello My Lovely Friends

Well, it has been a long, long winter...and even a longer season of life for me that has finally ended. I am both excited and very nostalgic as I author my last post on blogspot. (Please pardon the pics, as they are all from my old iPhone and just really learning how to take pics with my phone, believe it or not!)

Yes, this is my last post here - The Adventures of Elizabeth is moving on to a new site. Will reveal more later in this post. Grab a cup of coffee or tea, my last post is a long one...go figure :-)

What started out to be a post about my new bicycle and recovering from a long and painful knee mishap, this post actually has come full circle, purely by the grace of God, and very (but happily) unexpected.

Let me explain...

Three years ago last month, I hurt my knee in such a way that limited my abilities and I had no idea (and I mean no idea) of the pains, struggles, limitations, and losses that I was going to experience for the next three long years. One of many losses I experienced was my severe limitation in physical movement and the amount of pain I was in when I actually did move. As a result, I could no longer exercise at all. I missed being outside, missed being on my bike, missed being so active.

After a horrible mishap of my first knee surgery, and several ER visits later, and after 100's of hours of rehab, I had to eventually get my knee replaced completely last Feb 2014. This past year has been so painful, very limiting, and depressing. Only my barber husband knew the amount of constant real pain I was in. I had just recently come to the point of accepting what is, is, and began moving on with my new normal, which I blogged about here.

My training shoes...grown to love them now...

It has been a year since my total knee replacement (TKR) and I was ready to just accept my limitations and find a way to get on with my life again. So...I bought a bike only a month ago and decided I was going to make it "pretty" since I could no longer go fast, or race, like I did years ago in mini triathlons. 

So, I set out and ordered my bike and all the fixins that I could find to "pimp it out" and make it vintage, pretty, but practical. I ordered a new English saddle, vintage French panniers, trendy helmet, and of course, the bike itself....

My bike finally came in and Mike, at Maplewood Bicycle, customized the fit for me. I was so excited to take it out for a spin. He fit me on it, and that day, I happened to be in my construction boots (see above) and it turns out that my boots were the best thing for me to wear to help keep my foot on the pedal for now. 

So, about three weeks ago, I was so excited to get up on a Saturday and ride to one of my favorite cafes for a little lunch and ride all around town. (I was so in denial about my limited abilities...)

Well, it didn't go well at all for most of the ride. I think I had the proverbial bar set way, way too high on my expectations. My knee was so stiff that my left foot pointed inward, like pigeon-toe ....what is that all about? Never had that issue before, and don't sit/stand pigeon toed, so why is my foot so far in that it is hitting the front fender? I even dented my new fender with my boot.

I was shaky, unsteady, and felt very unstable. This ride was going downhill very fast. I felt myself getting emotional as I struggled to ride. I felt myself tear up, thinking, Can't I do anything like I used to???

I used to ride/race road bikes - bikes so light I could literally lift it up with only a couple of fingers. My old bike was sleek, fast, and my bike shoes clipped into the pedals as I whizzed along the road. Now, I am wearing clunky boots with a heel (to help hold my left foot onto the pedal because my knee won't bend well), and am riding on the sidewalk because I am too unsure of myself to trust myself in traffic. I am huffing and puffing at the slightest hill, never mind that I haven't exercised in three years, my mind is being mean to me and I am chastising am myself for being so out of shape. The lowest point was when I had to call my husband to come pick me up at the park because I was too tired and in too much pain to ride home again. 

I felt so defeated, so depressed.

So, my beloved arrives in his pickup truck, as I sit on the park bench feeling defeated. I put on a brave smile, and shrug my shoulders trying to pass off my ride as no big deal. We ride home silently...

Have you ever had that moment where you are trying so hard to convince yourself that everything is okay, and are trying to pretend that what happened was no big deal? Well, I wasn't fooling anyone...we get into the house, and before I could protest, my beloved grabs me and hugs/holds me tightly and says it will be better next time. That's it...the dam burst. I start to cry on his shoulder and tell him I am so SICK and TIRED of being SICK and TIRED!! I tell him that I "lost it" and will never again be the same - or even close to it. Biking was something I could do with my eyes shut (or so I thought).

He insisted that the very next day, we were going to the park and I will ride as slowly as I want while he walks. I wasn't excited about that idea, but agreed to it.

Love my little retro headlight :-)

I rode slowly, as he walked quickly. The ride was much better this time, mainly, I think, because my expectations were so much lower than the day before. My beloved barber husband walked behind me and agreed that he could definitely see my foot turn inward and that my stride was really off. He decided that we need to go back to the bike shop and get it all customized again for my new "normal" limitations. 

I love my little vintage bell - it even as an "E" engraved on top of it!

The next day, was a Monday, and I decided to ride it one more time. It was a cold day (only three weeks ago) and snow on the ground. I struggled some, but not as much, and after about an hour, my knee had loosened up just a bit, which was a total surprise. I actually was enjoying my ride! I went to a little coffee shop in the park, locked my bike up and sat inside to rest and read my new Instagram account (please join me on IG - I finally got on and love it! On the side bar of my blog you can find me).

While inside resting, having a little lunch and reading my IG, a very cute, trendy young couple came over to me and told me how much they loved my bike and thought how cute I looked riding it. Well, that made this fat, middle-aged, physically-challenged lady brighten right up. Here I was in my own world, my own thoughts, and I get a little tap on my shoulder from these people who just made my day.(Don't you love those totally unexpected day-brightners?)

Well, they made me feel so good, I took my first selfie for my new IG account and posted it three weeks ago. This is me sitting on my bike, on that cold Monday:

Well, like I said in the beginning of this post, this whole experience came full circle for me these past few days.

The other part of my complete circle is my trying to get up my new website. I have been working on this website for over two years, off and on. Pain, rehab and setbacks have keep the site from going up as I wanted to so very long ago. I had my computer crash completely, then would get an assignment that took all my energy, or had zero energy after yet another procedure or rehab therapy session to even think straight. Well, my new site was supposed to go up two months ago and I came across yet another issue that delayed it yet again.

Love my vintage French enamel vineyard sign for my basket!

Then something short of a miracle happened only a week ago. I took my bike in to get a chain guard installed and adjusted once again to help me ride with my physical challenges. I got new pedals, and an extender on my left pedal to help my foot stay on straight. After all my adjustments, the winter storms then hit and my beautiful bike sat inside, begging to be ridden, but the weather was too wet, too cold, and too snowy to take it for a spin.

So I waited.

And waited.

And it snowed and snowed.

While I waited out the weather, (two weeks ago) I also had an appointment with my knee surgeon to check on my progress. He wasn't happy with it (nor I) as it was bending only 95 degrees, the scar still looking pretty red. I learned that in order to get up out of a chair without a struggle, a knee needs to bend at least 110 degrees and most knees bend normally 120 degrees. So, no wonder I found daily life so challenging! The surgeon decided I needed yet another procedure - a manipulation - where they put me under in the OR, and bend my leg all the way back and move it all around. The risks are that my thigh bone could break or muscles could tear. Most of those that I spoke to said they would never go and do it because of all that I went through, but I am determined to give it one more try.

I love my 1963 vintage French pannier. I found them on Etsy and they just shipped in from France - just the perfect size. :-)

So, last Thursday, (a few days ago), I went into the OR again, praying that I leave walking, and not admitted for surgery. Well, I was in pain/sick just for that day and Friday, but the very next day, I went for a long bike ride and haven't felt this good in literally three years! I was an emotional mess for two days - but in a good way. I couldn't believe I could cross my leg to put on my shoe - haven't done that in three years! I was shocked that I didn't need to grab my pant leg to lift my leg out of the car anymore! I was shocked that I could lie in bed, on my back and then roll onto my side without searing pain in my knee - a sharp pain that woke me up several times every single night for three years. I teared up when I sat down and suddenly I could get up without grunting, in pain, or with help from my beloved. I had no idea how much I had adjusted my life, lived with pain, and avoided activities these past few years.

So, I had to go ride my bike!

So, as I rode in Forest Park this past Saturday, I thought about these past three years, my website, and a season in my life that is finally coming to an end. It was the first beautiful spring day we have had this year and still chilly. But I had the park to myself and my thoughts. And the most ironic thing about it all? All along, I wanted to be "the same as before" but I am so different now - and would not have it any other way. The changes that are now a part of me are changes that I am grateful for.

I want to share with you my ride, my iPhone pics, and my thoughts as I close out my final post...

I rode up to the famous Jewel Box art deco building. It was a big hill, but so worth the climb. I huffed greatly, heart pounding, but I had the entire place to myself for a bit.

These past three years changed me in ways, I believe, that God needed me to change. Because I slowed way down (against my will), I discovered so many things that I may not have ever found.

I traveled many paths these past 36 months. Some paths were very lonely and depressing. I learned who my real friends were and who I could count on - and not. I learned my true value as a child of God, and not to value so much what I create, but rather The Creator. I learned that if I were not to ever create a thing again, I am just as lovable as before in the eyes of Jesus. I also learned that I enjoy my solitude, and that while community is important, there is also a lot of peace in knowing that I am accepted for who I am, where I am, no matter what, in the eyes of God. 

I also learned how tired I am of "modern culture." I am definitely not anti-social, but rather anti-culture. I enjoy the quiet, the basic way of living. I discovered gardening again, growing our own food, and taking in the small things that I so easily overlooked when I was fully functioning and whizzing about from one thing to the next. I rediscovered cooking again and realize how much I missed it. 

I discovered that feeling good is way better than looking good! Ha-ha. I discovered while wheeling around in my wheelchair, or walking so slowly for months with my walker, the world is faster than I enjoy it. There is a fine line with "keeping in touch" and "keeping up" with others. It is so easy to read/see other blogs or social media accounts and think how I am falling short, or falling behind, or have nothing of real importance to share...and how wrong I would be to believe those modern cultural struggles. I struggled greatly with my new website and how I wanted it to be - something that pleases God and if others like it, then that is great too. If not, then I (shrugging shoulders here) can't help that. 

But it wasn't until yesterday, Sunday, when my barber husband and I spent the entire day in the park, riding our bikes slowly together, stopping, resting, laughing, him playing his harmonica for me...did I really feel the full circle come to a tight close...

We started the day at our favorite coffee shop, Blueprint coffee, on Delmar Loop and we had couple of people compliment us on our bikes - everyone was in a good mood because of the beautiful weather. We sat, enjoyed ourselves, and excited about starting a new day together.

I had a great night's sleep and was feeling no pain - a day to celebrate. I posted to IG how happy I was that morning. We rode up to the Art Museum and looked at the a beautiful metal/silver tree sculpture and that is where I pondered my thoughts even more.

I decided just how apropos this metal sculpture was for me at this juncture in my life. On this most beautiful day, the closing of winter, this steel structure stands strong and shiny, among the dried winter grass. For so long, I felt like the dead winter grass, and now I relate to the steel tree. After years of slowing down, asking for help when I needed it, accepting help when offered, I am ready to walk out of this season and into a new season of life. Three weeks ago, I had no idea I would be having another knee procedure, nor did I have any idea I would ever be pain free again. The timing is just incredible to me that I am about to embark on new adventures just at the moment I am finally "healed." The timing was not mine at all - it was His - the most perfect timekeeper anyone could ever hope to have.

Amongst the winter grass and leaves, standing behind me is the steel tree - such a strong symbol for me at this time.

I am so ready to close this book and begin a new book in my life. I give all credit to Jesus, who knew my pains (both physically and emotionally), who knew my fears, my worries, and my heart. It is through Him that I give all credit for my healing. I hope I learned what He had hoped to teach me these past three years....I am not my old self - I am better than ever before!

...And so, the next post I post here will be a link to my new site. It still has issues, and things to work out, a work in progress....much like my life. It is a very humble site, not "new" or "shiny" or the latest and greatest of anything. Some pages are not even linked yet, as they are not ready to be linked but I figure, why not put up the site and my readers can grow with my new site? 

Here is a preview:

I will have a SMALL online shop - mainly like a yard sale - cleaning out my house. I either no longer need, want, or can use items and decided to sell what I have, when I have time between photo gigs. It will be a place where I will explore and share my new interests, as well as revisit some old passions as well. I adore design, but it isn't the center of my life. I am fascinated with many topics that I will explore on my new site, and hopefully I will encourage or inspire others to explore their personal passions more fully as well.

I will very soon announce on Instagram my new website and put a final link on this site for you to find me. I will keep this blog open for those who are new, or for those who would like to revisit my old pics and stories. I honestly believe that the website wasn't due to go up until this moment in time. All the delays, frustrations, and so on...and now, I am feeling just about 100% again - how wonderful to begin something like this feeling so good!

Thank you dear readers for being there for me during so many events these past years. I began this blog in 2006, right after my divorce. You saw me through my very first book that I photographed, the death of my mother, the discovery of new love, my new marriage, a bad car wreck, health issues, and many fun activities, travels, and creative projects. I have met the greatest readers, befriended many, and am in awe of your sharing. I can't even begin to tell you how much you mean to me and I look forward to sharing, encouraging, and inspiring others who seek a lifestyle that is more authentic to who we really are meant to be, rather than what others feel we should be.

May God bless you always,

Elizabeth

The Power of Power Outages

Hello!

How are my lovely readers doing today? I just wanted to update you a little and share a thought or two.

I am healing nicely - PT is going well too. While my physical therapist is a young, smiling woman with long hair, I am still glancing around the back of her neck and on her scalp, as I am sure “666” embossed on her somewhere. How someone who greets you so cheerily and then without a blink, have you in tears only moments later, to then only have me thank her and wish her a good day! LOL. I want to thank you all for contacting me via emails and comments to wish me well. I have been off the computer for some time, as I am finding that my therapy days tend to trigger migraines, which keep me off the computer for a bit. I read all your emails and comments, but must limit my time on the computer these past couple of weeks. But again, I am very glad to be headed in the right direction, and before long, I will be tap dancing up a storm. (Never mind that I never tapped danced in my life...but never too late to learn with a brand new knee, right?).

During these past few weeks of spring has made my recovery more than a little interesting. A couple of weeks ago, about 5:15 AM, I awoke with the tornado siren blaring outside. I jumped up, and punched my beloved in the ribs (lovingly, of course) and yelled, “Get up! Tornado!” And I “ran” down the hall to the basement and “ran” down the stairs. It wasn’t until sometime later, after the storm passed, did my barber husband ask if I was okay. Thinking he meant my fear of the storm, but he was referring to my knee. He was behind me as I “ran” down the hall, and I barely recall him yelling at me, “Be careful! Be careful” as I made my way down the hall.  At the time, I thought he was talking about the storm in general, but no, he just hasn’t seen me move at such a pace in almost two years and I think I freaked him out more than the storm! I am a little frustrated because I have no memory of running, or getting down the stairs quickly, and I so wish I could replay that moment in my head and so I could see myself running once again. But, I do relish in the idea that I DID run, even though at the moment I can’t - but will again. 

Amazing how fear can energize a decrepit, sleepy person!

Storms energize me. I feel so energized, in general, during a short-term power outages. In fact, I think our culture’s norm changes for the better during power outages. Now, I am talking about short-term outages, such as a branch disrupting power over a few blocks, or construction knocking out a line for just the afternoon. Not the life-threatening, losing all our food, three-weeks-without-no-air conditioning outages. But during those shorter outages, it is amazing how neighborhoods reenergize when our lives lose their power source. 

Suddenly neighbors are out on the porches and in driveways talking to each other, borrowing candles and batteries for flashlights. No blaring televisions, stereos, noisy A/C units as the street grows darker except for small glows of candlelight flicker through open windows. Even in the age of cellphones with Internet service, most people conserve their phone battery until power is restored, so even cell phones are put away for a while. During those power outages, children are also outside playing, reminding me of my own childhood. Suddenly, eating dinner on the porch with a camping lantern is more romantic than just purposeful. As the street darkens, and neighbors gather around eating popsicles and ice-cream (because we all know how they will melt in just moments), it is nice to enjoy the moment, free from electronic obligations. 

My barber husband plays guitar (just a little bit) but suddenly, the music he plays is now a live concert, with a “lightening” show in the distance, accompanied by bass (thunder). It’s comical when the wind suddenly turns cold, how the adults in unison say, “Whoa!” and then we all wonder aloud where did that came from, as we look around and up at the sky like experienced meteorologists, as we offer up our predictions. 

The adults begin sharing their personal horror stories of storms from their past...the adult version of campfire, scary stories - sans flashlight pointed at the storyteller’s face. Suddenly porch steps, the curb, or a car’s bumper all become comfortable couches for neighbors who normally warm up the lazy boy with feet kicked high, behind closed curtains, and stereo surround-sound turned up to drown out any outside noise.

These short-lived power outages offer us a chance to reconnect not only with others, but to rediscover non-electronic ways to occupy our time: Reading a real book (not Kindle), knitting in silence, listening to the wind and rain, playing cards, taking a walk, draw chalk figures on the sidewalk (yes, really), or just lie back and enjoy the cool breeze blowing through the open windows. It is my observation that it seems as though our culture seeks “permission” to cut ties with our electronics. We pay bills, do banking, communicate, share, respond, research, play games, listen to music, and can even shop groceries via electronics. Things we do so naturally now via electronics, were once an opportunity to socialize, get to know the bank teller, meet a friend for a chat and coffee, or just browse the public library. We seem to feel like we are wasting our day, or feel non-productive should we take a day or two off from the cell phone or computer. 

While electronics are an amazing and wonderful part of our culture, they can also be a burden. A burden to upgrade, keep up, learn new programs, expensive, limited in some areas, and as we all know, it can also be unreliable. But mostly, this man-made power just doesn't have the power of real human touch.

Sometimes, living “virtually,”  virtually extinguishes real living.

I think the reason I am so drawn to abandoned buildings is because at one time, the building was so full of life and stories. And nothing man-made has enough power to bring that abandoned building back to real life. Only human love is powerful enough to bring life to an empty room...

I was on a photo shoot and setting up in another room when I walked into this room to go get my chandeliers that I left in the corner. As beautiful as the old French chandeliers are...it was the bright sunlight that made me stop in awe and wonder. No matter how much I style a shot, even with the most beautiful props, the power of natural light, is by far, so much more powerful than anything I could ever create.

And that is a good reminder for me to realize that what I create, plan, or want, would never be as wonderful or powerful than what He wants for me - Jesus Christ.

I will always plan and create...but with an open heart and mind that allows Jesus to direct me, change me, and use me to the best of His ability, not mine. Man-made power is so wonderful and beautiful  that it is easy to see how it benefits our lives. But the true Power allows us to fully feel His presence - we don't have to see Him to know He is working within us. 

Happy Easter to you all, and may you always feel the power of Jesus in your beautiful lives.

from my house to your house,

Little Lovable Lulu

Well, I never thought I would be writing this post so soon. And it is very hard...hard to see the damn keyboard, the screen and to see any real sense of it all. She was taken by cancer way before her time. So unfair.

My little Lulu has passed away early Sunday morning. Less than two months after our little Moto passed away as well. I am having a very hard time even looking for old photos of her, or going through digital files to find her because I am still in a little denial. But I know I will find the photos someday and maybe post them then. These past three weeks have been so emotional with her chemo treatments...just kept telling myself she will get through this.

But I was wrong.

Lulu was my 40th birthday present, and also one of my store dogs. She was presented to me at my surprise party and instantly stole my heart. She would have been ten years old today. 

Lulu's daddy, Anthony, took such great care of her (and Monty). I kept her for a long while after Anthony and I went our separate ways, but later, I allowed Monty and Lulu to live with their daddy. He had such a regular schedule (and mine wasn't at all). A very hard decision, but it was best for Lulu and Monty to have routine in their lives. Visiting them both when I could, made me realize just how much I truly missed them. And while it might sound weird, I loved "talking" to her over the phone (daddy would put it on speaker) and then be told she would cock her head side to side as I talked to her several times a week. Her daddy wrote such a nice memorial for her. I am posting it below:

A Memorial for Lulu by Lulu's daddy, Anthony. He says it all and more, and I thank him for sharing this with me:

I can’t always remember little details of my life, i.e., my first birthday party, a first friend, my first crush, but I can remember when I first fell in love with our little Lulu.

My wife at the time, Elizabeth burst in to the design and retail scene in St. Louis in 2001.  She quickly developed a following and we were embraced by many of the local citizens of the small neighborhood in which we lived.  Her store was a huge success with visitors coming from near and far to experience her keen eye for design and display.  Part of the draw to the store was a furry, friendly little fawn pug named Monty.  He was the cutest store greeter Elizabeth’s customers had ever seen.  Monty melted many hearts and fit in perfectly with the black and beige signature theme of the store.  

Fast forward almost two hears into the story, Elizabeth’s 40^th birthday was fast approaching in December of 2003.  Like any good husband, I was searching for just the right gift for a woman who was rich in family, friends, and notoriety.  I knew a surprise birthday party would be the center point of the celebration, so I proceeded to schedule the party in the restaurant located next door to the store.  I invited many of the friends we had grown to enjoy over the past 2 years and began to count down the days to the party.  The only thing missing was the special gift I still needed to locate.

I had decided several weeks in advance that the gift would be another puppy to add to our home.  I decided the perfect complement to our home and the store would be a black Pug.  The “ying” to Monty’s “yang. “ I scoured the internet and ads for a breeder in the St. Louis area with pugs available.  I found a local breeder in the area with an 8-week old litter available and set the date to make my clandestine trip to the breeder the day of the surprise party.

I arrived at the breeder’s house and was greeted at the door by the familiar yapping of pug barks.  The breeder took me to her small kennel area where I was introduced to a fuzzy brood of black and fawn pugs.  It was the cutest site I’d seen since I picked out Monty 5-years earlier.  There were two black pugs and four fawn pugs; all of them clambering to greet me all and inflict puppy love on me.  They were all so cute, so warm, fuzzy, and so happy!  I was overcome by puppy bites and puppy breath all at the same time.  I was truly in heaven.  

Though all of the pups were absolutely beautiful, my only options were the two black pugs.  One male, one female.  Both were equally adorable, but since we already had one male pug at home, I chose the black female because she was so beautiful, warm, cuddly and attentive.  A bundle of happiness, and puppy kisses given freely sealed the deal.

I drove the little girl home, happy with the decision I made.  She had huge bulging black eyes, a huge forehead and the cutest, tightest little swirled tail.  I knew I made the right decision with this little girl, because she quickly came to rest on my lap as I was driving and began snoozing on the ride home.  The little girl was presented on a beautiful red satin pillow at the height of the evening’s surprise party.  The room went silent as the wait staff brought her in on the pillow, and the room erupted in oo’s and ah’s at the site of the little beauty.  The little girl was placed on the floor and every adult human in the room quickly got on the floor and began playing with her and cooing their best puppy voices.  The party and the little black pug puppy was a huge success!

 Through the course of events the little girl was named Lulu, after the city of St. Louis.  The city and thought of naming her after her birthplace provided us much happiness.  The name fit her because of her dainty stature, and because she was in fact, a lulu of a pain!  She quickly grew to pester her new found brother, Monty.  Monty hated the little girl with a vengeance for weeks, until he had to succumb to the reality that she wasn’t just a bad dream.  Unlike her brother, Lulu was not born for retail work.  She was taken to the store daily, but had to be placed in her kennel for fear of running out the door, pestering customers, or raising too much Cain.  She was a very intelligent girl with lots of energy…sometimes too much energy, but she quickly won my heart and became the consummate “daddy’s girl.”

Fast forward again through divorce, a move to another home, a move to Illinois, and then back to St. Louis, two more home changes, a move back to Texas, a new apartment, dating a wonderful woman, moving to Durham to be with the wonderful woman, a marriage, a new kitty brother named Nico and a new home, and countless memories, experiences, challenges, and losses in between, Lulu grew into a beautiful and vibrant pup.  When we arrived Durham, Lulu was a mature 7-years old.  Still a character and bundle of energy, Lulu grew to be the alpha in the home and still had daddy wrapped around her paw.  

Lulu aged gracefully and maintained all of the character I fell in love with when I picked her out of the litter.  Her beautiful black eyes, bright with wisdom and adventure; her beautiful black coat shiny and peppered with grey; and her love for her brother, Monty and step-brother Nico evident in her daily interactions with them.  Her daily routine included greeting daddy in bed by bursting through the bedroom door to announce it was time to eat breakfast, keeping a keen eye out on mommy as she sliced strawberries for breakfast, leading her now blind and aging brother through the yard to “do their business”, and waiting for daddy to return home from work.  All of which Lulu excelled at as she aimed to live her life to the fullest.

On September 9, 2013 Monty finally decided to leave us.  His 15-year old body had finally had enough and decided it was time to rest.  Lulu was by his side when we were saying goodbye to our faithful pup.  Lulu knew her brother was no longer with her.  She roamed through the house with little enthusiasm and direction.  Nico felt the pain as well meowing through the house as to look for the ever present Monty.  

A week after Monty left us, we took a planned trip (Monty was going to join us) to the NC coast to enjoy the last of the summer weather.  Lulu still seemed to be in a funk, but we made the best of a hard time, and she enjoyed her first trip to the beach.  She played in the sand, I carried her into the surf (she didn’t like it), and took a beautiful 3-mile walk on the beach.  She walked the entire 3-miles without effort, enjoying the cool sand and water on her paws.  We returned home two days later and continued on with our normal routine.  

Shortly before Monty left us, Lulu’s eating habits changed.  Some vomiting and lack of appetite, and a little lethargy, which we had originally attributed to nerves and after Monty’s passing, depression about his loss.  Blood tests showed a slight decrease in albumen protein levels, and her vet and I chose to take a conservative approach and change her diet to rule out food allergies, etc.  Over the course of two months we changed her diet twice, with albumen levels increasing and then decreasing at her last blood test.  We decided to run an ultrasound of her abdomen to see if protein levels were being lost via bleeding.  Unfortunately, the results were more serious and horrific than expected.

Lulu was diagnosed with lymphoma of the colon only a month after Monty’s passing.  Lymphoma of the colon is a scourge found in only 17% of all dog cancer cases.  Colon lymphoma is a rare and typically fatal form of cancer that is persistent and fast moving.  Left untreated, a dog usually succumbs to the cancer 2-weeks to 2-months after diagnosis.  Though unsure of the timetable we were dealing with, we immediately set an appointment with the oncologist at the local pet specialty clinic.  The oncologist met with Lulu two days later and went through options available to us in battling the cancer.  We started chemotherapy on Lulu the same day.

Three weeks passed since her first chemo session.  It’s been an emotional time with many peaks/valleys.  Although, even with the chemo, most days have been good.  We pinpointed her typical bad days as Wednesdays and Thursdays.  By the weekend Lulu would be happy, energetic, and she would have a voracious appetite.  We took these all to be signs of great hope and promise of recovery.

Lulu accompanied me to work on Friday, October 25, 19-days into her chemo.  Since chemo, Lulu’s mornings would start off pretty slowly, but then she would bounce back and be closer to normal.  This day, she was not bouncing back.  She was very lethargic and did not want to move from the spot she usually lays when she’s with me at work.  I called the oncologist and they advised me to bring her in for a blood test, since anemia is a concern due to disruption of cell production from bone marrow compromise.  As suspected, Lulu’s red blood cell count had dropped from 14% to 8% in the course of one week.  Lulu was critically anemic, with the only hope of raising the levels being a red blood cell transfusion.   I made the decision to administer sub-cutaneous fluids and an anti-nausea, in order to take Lulu home to be comfortable.  She had been through enough already.

When we arrived home, we made the decision to make Lulu as comfortable as possible.  We started by feeding her steak; a treat she has never enjoyed in her entire life!  We also discussed feeding her liver, kale, and black strap molasses, all of which are high in iron in the attempt to raiser her red blood cell count.  Friday evening we watched with great hope as Lulu ate her entire steak dinner.  She was alert, walking in the house, though she was visibly weak.  Saturday morning, she ate her remaining steak and again was alert and walking in the house.  She weakened throughout the day, and we continued to make her comfortable.  We wrapped her in our pets’ favorite blanket and loaded her into our pet/garden wagon and took her on a walk of the neighborhood.  She laid in the wagon and seemed to enjoy the bright sunshine, breeze, and crisp fall air.  We stopped several times to allow her to do her business and also found a nice patch of green grass to lay in and take pictures with our girl.  It was a wonderful time to walk her…she truly seemed happy and content.

Saturday evening Lulu was still very weak.   She laid in her bed in the kitchen and watched intently as I made dinner.  She knew that the kitchen equals goodness and she was bright-eyed and alert as I fed her bits of liver we had cooked for her earlier.  She joined us wrapped in her favorite blanket in the living room as we had our dinner.  Again, knowing that she should be with us waiting for any morsel to fall on the ground.  She happily spent her last evening in our presence, in the home she loved, with the people who loved her.

As I laid on the floor with her that night, Lulu weakened to the point where she was struggling for air. Her red blood cells were not providing the necessary oxygen to her lungs and brain to recover.  She woke me with a poor cry to tell me she was ready to be relieved from her misery.  We called her vet at 4:30 a.m. who came to help Lulu rest comfortably.  My wife and I laid on the floor with Lulu as the doctor prepared to administer the medication.   As I held Lulu tightly in my arms and the medication was traveling through her frail body, Lulu looked at me and began licking my nose…a final gesture of love and respect for her best friend of ten years.  Within seconds, Lulu stopped breathing and her little heart went still.  

This is in memoriam of Lulu.  A tiny and beautiful little pug who knew her place in the world.  She loved everyone who she came in contact with and trusted without question.  She was a brave girl who was challenged many times in her life, but always faced her days with vigor and positive attitude.  Like all cancer patients, whether human or animal, Lulu did not deserve her fate, but she trusted in us to at least try to make her whole.  And then trusted us to take her pain from her.  Lulu will always be my special girl.  She will be missed every minute of the day and will continue to be my most special and trusted companion.  Peace to you our Girl, until we meet again and we can run and play together in the Kingdom of Our Father.  

I want to thank all of those who loved my little Lulu over the years. She loved you all right back. Especially want to thank her daddy and her new NC mommy. It made my heart rest easy to know that she was so loved, given the best care, and especially treated well and really loved by her new mommy, Liz, as if she had known Lulu from the first day we got her. That meant so much to me. Lulu was very blessed to have such a doting NC mommy.

I miss you a lot my little Lulu. But know you are forever planted deeply in the many hearts you so lovingly touched.

Love,
Mommy