February 17th

February 17th

One of those days you live thru that you say to yourself, “I should never have left the house today!”

 

So what happened?

 

I got up early to get my blood work done after fasting.

 The lab opened at 7:00 am, and I debated with myself to bring the dogs for the ride.

 I did load them in the car and headed out.

 

I got a flat tire on the way, and I reached out to AAA, and assistance was on its way.

 I pulled the crates out of the car and set them on the sidewalk so they would be safe in changing the tire.

 Once the spare tire was on, I could load the crates and the dogs back in the car.

 

We were back on track for my plan that morning.

 After getting my blood drawn around 7:30 am, I got back on the road.

 I figured the tire store I got my tires just a couple of months ago wasn’t too far, and I was out; they opened at 8:00 am.

 I arrived at Hank’s Tire Store a bit before 8:00 and was motioned to park my car near the assembly station for a new tire.

 We discovered it appeared the tire was slashed, which was not covered for the replacement.

 I said, fine, I need a new tire.

 

I once again pulled the crates and placed the dogs, Pax, and G, in their respective crates.

 I went into the office, leaving the dogs, imagining they were safe, to get the process going.

 

When we came out of the office, Pax’s crate door was open, and she was a good girl just staying in her crate.

 I moved towards her and called her to me, she jumped in my arms, and I held for a moment and then put her down near her crate, thinking she would go in.

 

She went around the crate and went to a nearby tree to mark, I called her, and I may have moved into her; I don’t remember, but she got scared and ran into rush hour traffic on Ventura Boulevard VERY busy three-lane street in both directions.

 

She ran past the first three lanes and into the first lane of traffic, going in the opposite direction when she got hit.

 She was down; I ran out and prevented another car from rolling over her; I suspect the driver may not have seen her as she was down.

 

I got to her and picked her up; it was bad.

 

Her “Angel Collective” was there to help the workers and bystanders at Hank’s Tire Shop.

 Her head was bleeding, her eye was bulging, but she was still breathing.

 The workers at the Tire Store told me there was an emergency Vet Clinic at the end of the long block.

 They tried to give me my keys to drive, but I was in such a panic I just picked her up and ran; it was a very long block!

 

She was coughing up blood, and her body had life but was not moving or struggling too much.

 We got to the Vet Clinic, and as I set her down, she had a seizure.

 I had blood, her blood across my face, on my shoes, everywhere where I was trying to hold her near me on the run to get her treated.

 

I was terrified, holding my breath, thinking her breath might be her last, and not wanting to miss it.

 

The Vet Techs were pretty quick and getting her admitted for treatment.

 I must have been a sight because a friendly patron handed me some wipes and a roll of paper towels.

 One of the vet techs asked if I wanted to use their bathroom to clean up a bit.

 

I had washed my face and neck, my hands and sleeves to my jacket, the water turned red.

 

I was in shock, crying, thinking, what have I done?

 I felt guilt, fear, loss, and I didn’t think she would make it.

 

While she was admitted, she had another seizure and bit a vet tech.

 I have had some issues with her biting and feared that she might revert to that fear-based behavior with the accident.

 

I was riddled with guilt, asking my self would it be more humane if she didn’t make it? And the shame of even having that thought.

 I knew there was nothing I could do as she was being attended to, so I walked the long block back to Hank’s Tire, and Hank handed me my keys and told me not to worry about the tire and to get to my baby.

 

I was in such a daze; I loaded G and the crates into the car and headed back to the vet clinic to finish the paperwork.

 They sent me an estimate of her care, 2,600.00; they asked the most I would pay for her treatment, it didn’t allow me to type in “anything” it had to be a number, so I thought 5,000.00 was nearly double what the estimate was and put that in.

 

Since I signed off on it and they were able to charge my card, they took extra care with her, knowing this was not a dump and run.

 

It was hard to leave, thinking I wouldn’t see her again alive.

 

I had a photoshoot to prepare for and needed to hop into the shower before; my legs had Pax’s blood on them.

 I was moving, but I dare not say I was functioning.

 After the photoshoot, I did get a call from the Animal Hospital saying Pax was resting.

 The Vet said she was stapled up because they were concerned about arterial bleeding in the face.

 

She said she was in an oxygen tent after the brain trauma she had endured, and she hadn’t had a seizure and was on anti-seizure medicine and antibiotics and meds to manage the pain.

 She said if she makes it thru the night without another seizure, she could most likely come home tomorrow.

 

I knew the next 48/ 72 hours were critical for Pax.

 

The Doctor asked if I might like to “FaceTime” with her that evening; I couldn’t believe it, started crying and said yes!

 Having G, my Hungarian Pumi, with me was a comfort, having flashes of us being just the two of us, not knowing.

 

The Vet Tech, George, called me on FaceTime a few hours later, and I was able to see her.

 She didn’t look too good; she was sleeping, and with the cone around her head, it was hard to see anything.

 

It was tough, and I realize now that would have been when someone would have reached out to someone for support.

 For whatever reason, I didn’t.

 

The following day I was supposed to have an acupuncture appointment, I called and canceled, and Michael was very understanding.

 

It was a very restless night of tears and confusion.

 

I got a call from the Vet Clinic the next morning.

 I was still a bit paralyzed, not feeling I couldn’t seem to move right or left, in a state of confusion.

 The news was she made it thru the night with no seizures, and I could most likely pick her up at 4:00 pm.

 

This took me over a week to write this, and I wondered why?

 

There is more to this story than Pax, and I had several other things happening all at this time.

 

I was trying to qualify for a loan on my house, so I would have a place to live with my dogs, not an easy task when you can’t show adequate income over the past several years.

 Johnny was the primary income while we were together.

 

After being denied several times for other loans, this was my last chance, and the papers were to be signed the following week.

 I was on edge, knowing this loan was horrible, but I had this one shot and was losing hope.

 

I felt like I was under a very dark cloud; it isn’t that I live extravagantly but challenged by knowing my value or charging or making money at doing what I love, helping people realize their dreams.

 

When Pax got hit, it unleashed a flood gate of emotions.

 

I had massive changes this past fall, divorce, loss of management due to creative differences, including my tech support and legal.

 

An incredible shift started happening.

 

I reached out and shared my situation with a friend I had made on an App called Clubhouse.

 Of all things, I realized in our conversation was her expertise was in Graphic Design, and she created web pages and had a background in Marketing and PR.

 The ease we had with each other was incredible, and we discussed ideas and concepts; it was cathartic, enriching, and challenging.

 So, yes, we are now working together, and I finally feel heard and challenged to speak up for myself and examine what Greg wants.

 

I never permitted myself to greave with all these changes until this happened with my little girl Pax.

 

The loss of a relationship with my husband, the loss of a manager, my perceived touchstone to the world, and the possible loss of my beautiful Pax.

 

Time heals all wounds.

 

So getting to a place emotionally to write something about this past week, my ex-husband made a considerable concession which was remaining on the loan and signing off on indemnifying him to any responsibility for the property; I broke down and cried.

 

This made all the difference in the world to have a home for me and the dogs.

 Also, I was getting my labs at the medical center I went to that morning of the flat tire because I had to get set up for my own insurance.

 I was trying to get set up with a new Doctor and the new policy.

 It has turned into a bit of a mess, so I am trying to find insurance to stay with the care I have had for many years.

 

They didn’t even check for T-Cells or Viral Load, and I told them I had been HIV POZ since 1988. Crazy!

 

I am also almost out of my HIV meds, which are not supposed to be interrupted.

 

It feels like a shell game.

 

I am trying to get a podcast off the ground as well.

 We taped our first attempt.

 I was nervous and trying to get in way too much!

 It was a disaster.

 A good podcast is not as easy as people might think, the good ones anyway.

 I have tremendous respect for those excellent podcasters out there.

 It was very humbling because this is vitally important to have even the slightest trickle of an income at this point is very important.

 

With everything going on, my head briefly did go to resentment thinking.

 

If Johnny had kept me on his insurance if I hadn’t gotten a slash in my tire, if I had done better on the podcast, if my memorabilia were sold, if…

 

It was, by all means, a breakdown!

 

I was crushed.

 

After a few days of a very dark cloud, it lifted when Johnny agreed to let me keep the loan we had had together!

 

On my hike with the dogs, I saw flowers daffodils and breathed.

 

It was like the first time I saw them, and the colors, I saw color!

 

It is never how far you fall or how many times you do so, and it is all about getting back up and getting back in the game.

 

I know I have much further to go, but one step at a time, steadily moving forward.

 

Sorry, I didn’t reach out to many of my friends earlier, but I was not feeling strong enough to reach out a hand to ask for help.

Namaste,
Greg

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