Supportive Animals (Or, the Blog Post Where I Get to Brag About My Amazing Dog)

About two and a half years ago, my husband and I went to the local shelter "just to see" the dogs. (I really should know better.  I'm the type of person who would take all of the dogs home if I could.)

During this time, I had really been struggling with health issues. My depression had hit an all time low, and physically, things were going downhill for me and the doctors couldn't figure out what was going on. (This was shortly before I received the additional diagnoses of Lupus and RA.)

While we were at the shelter, we came across this shaggy, mid size (about 50 lbs) collie mix, named Wilson who I connected with immediately. We asked about him, and the volunteer provided what little information was known about him, and asked if we'd like to play with him outside. The shelter had these great fenced play areas with picnic tables, and so I sat at the picnic table and got to know Wilson a bit better.

He approached me cautiously, not out of fear, but almost concern before turning and sitting on my foot, leaning his head back in my lap for me to pet. This was extremely significant because of past dogs in my family's life who had done the same with my mom. It was as if those animals who'd crossed over the rainbow bridge were telling me this was my dog.

A few days later, we officially adopted Wilson into our home. Initially, we were going to be the type of pet parents that didn't allow him on the furniture or feed him people food. (That didn't last long.) He was classified as an emotional support animal to help me cope with my depression and anxiety, but he seemed to sense how sick I was physically. Where he would play fully with my husband, tug on that toy harder, run faster, jump harder, he was gentle with me.

From the emotional and psychological standpoint, I call Wilson my Angel Dog. He's brought so much joy into our lives, made me laugh with his goofiness, comforted me when I'm having difficulties, and just bringing a sense of calm and peace.  But about a year ago, our very smart dog showed me how much he was clued into me.

I had had a really rough few days where I was essentially living off of pain pills and Glucerna. I spent the majority of the time sleeping and it was just me and Wilson at home.

About mid-morning, I was awakened by the feeling of being pushed by something. When I came to, I realized Wilson was laying next to me in bed pushing me with his paws to wake me up and he didn't stop pushing until I sat up on the edge of the bed. He then did his "I need to go outside" routine, and I stumbled through the house, heading toward the back door. But rather than go to the back door, Wilson stopped in front of the fridge, watched me for awhile, and then looked back at the fridge. It took me a minute, but I realized I was likely hypoglycemic. I grabbed a meal replacement shake out of the fridge, downed it, and only then would Wilson go outside.

I returned to bed for more sleep after he came back in, and a few hours later, found myself repeating a similar pattern. Again, he woke me up by pushing me, but this time it wasn't food he was after me to get, but water. And this time, he wouldn't let me go back to sleep forcing me to stay awake. (Which is actually a really good thing because otherwise I would not be sleeping at night.)

He has also helped keep me from having panic attacks, alerted me to low blood sugar episodes, and tried to warm my feet by laying on them when I'm having problems with Reynaud's. Wilson loves to snuggle...he just hasn't figured out that laying on top of me when I'm having a really high pain day is the way to go sometimes.  :)  Wilson tracks me at night, particularly if I'm having a really bad night, and will keep tabs on me. (The night after my most recent surgery he made things really interesting for me. Every time I got out of bed, he would move and lay on the floor so that I would have to step over him to return to bed. He made sure he knew where I was, but lifting legs over a dog after abdominal surgery isn't the most fun thing ever.)

I'm not bringing up this topic in my blog to just brag about how awesome my dog is, although he is pretty awesome. There are a lot of positives to pets in the lives of people, regardless of their ability or disability. But when you have a disability, there are also some considerations to take regarding animals.

So, Wilson provides a great deal of services to me. But Wilson, like any pet, requires a great deal of care and has his own needs. For some people with the types of illnesses that Chronic Pain Warriors deal with, the needs that a pet has are too great and are more of a responsibility than someone can handle.  That leads me to: what questions should one ask themselves when considering taking on a pet/emotional support animal/therapy animal/companion animal/service animal?

(There are a variety of differences between an animal that is a pet vs. emotional support animal vs. therapy animal vs. companion animal vs. service animal, and the laws that govern the type of animal and where they are allowed are far more detailed than I wish to get into in this blog. For people who are interested, I encourage you to look to the Americans with Disabilities Act and Regulations on Service Animals for further information.)

Questions to ask before taking on an animal

1. Why do I want this animal in my life?
  
Are you looking to adopt because you saw that Sarah McLachlan SPCA commercial one too many times or do you really feel ready to take on an animal with their needs? Have you researched the specific breeds/types of animals and temperaments?  If you adopt a puppy or kitten, are you aware of the increased care requirements you'll have for awhile? If this is a service animal, have you thought about the costs of training and education? These are all things to take into consideration.

2. Will this animal fit into my lifestyle?

Some Chronic Pain Warriors are still able to work full time, so is this animal going to be alone most of the day? If so, are they able to entertain themselves or will you return home to find things torn up? If you're fairly sedentary, adopting a high energy animal who requires lots of exercise probably isn't the way to go. Animals have personalities, too, so if you're a person who enjoys peace and quiet, bringing a barker home might not be the best way to go.

3. Can I afford this animal?

Vet bills, food, medication, treats, toys...it all adds up. And if your animal becomes chronically ill themselves or requires special food or medication? It can get even pricier.

4. On my bad days, will I be able to exercise/play with this animal as they need to be? (On my extremely bad days, it can be hard for me to let the dog out; is this something you would have to consider?)

5.  Is there support for me to turn to if I have to be hospitalized for a length of time because of my illness? 

Or even on those days where you suddenly find yourself stuck at the medical center for 13 hours, is there someone you can call who can help your animal out. I know Wilson can hold it for awhile, but a dog can only cross their legs for so long.

And ultimately, the question that needs to be answered is: Will this animal bring more joy and help to my life or will the animal cause too much of a burden on me to care for it in my present health state?

I can't imagine my life without Wilson in it, but I have the help of my husband for things like bathing him and making sure he gets enough exercise. Wilson is also calm enough of a dog that he doesn't require constant stimulus and while he has his hyper moments, that's not his constant state. He fits into this family perfectly.

I'm all for animals in our lives as I believe they bring great joy and value, but we owe it to those animals to bring joy and value to their lives as well.

A list of definitions from my medical chart.

Update (Or why I've disappeared for a while)

When I started this blog a bit over a year ago, I wanted to provide a glimpse of what it's like living with invisible illness.  Part of that meant educating on a variety of conditions.  I also wanted to make it a resource for others who were suffering.

But there's also the part where I have to be open about my experience and how my illnesses affect me.  And so, with some trepidation...

It's been a very rough few months for me.

I've been dealing with an increase in my pain fairly steadily over the past few months. It got to the point where I was having to take my PRN (as needed) Opioid pain medication nightly in order to sleep. In late February, after talking with my doctor, I decided to try a new medication that had been suggested to me over the past couple of years but I'd been hesitant to try.

Please note: nothing I say in this blog should be taken as medical advice. Please discuss any medications and medical concerns with appropriate medical professionals.

Naltrexone is an Opioid Antagonist used to help individuals who are addicted to Opioids to stop while helping their pain.  There has been some research that Low Dose Naltrexone (LDN) can be useful to help pain in individuals with Fibromyalgia.  The reported side effects are generally pretty minimal and well tolerated.

Well, by most, anyway.

Two days into taking the LDN, my pain had spiked significantly and I was experiencing other flare type symptoms. Four days into taking the medication, my depression and anxiety had started to significantly worsen. By day 5, I was incredibly labile and increasingly suicidal. On day 7, I woke up experiencing tactile and visual hallucinations. That was the point where I notified my doctor and stopped the medication.

I wish I could say the side effects immediately reversed upon stopping the medication, but even 2 1/2 months later, I am still struggling with the increase in both my depression and anxiety.  I began having almost nightly panic attacks that would keep me from sleeping and my suicidal ideations became very severe.  (My medication has been changed to include meds to address these issues, and over the last couple of weeks, things have started to improve mood-wise.)

Aside from the mood side effects, physically my pain and fatigue levels have been beyond ridiculous.(Shortly after stopping the LDN, I caught a nasty Upper Respiratory Infection that turned into Asthmatic Bronchitis that left me very ill for a month, so that hasn't exactly helped matters any.)

Currently, I am able to work...some.  It's exhausting. On days where I don't work, I sleep or rest the majority of the day. I've been slowly trying to incorporate other activities back into my life such as gardening, playing with the dog, spending time with friends, etc, but it's been slow going and adding those activities means that I'm recovering for the next day or two. Things that most people would not even think twice about require so much energy from me.

For instance, something that has become very taxing for me to do is talking on the phone. I already tend to avoid talking on the phone because of my hearing problems, but there is so much energy that is required to follow and track conversations in addition to struggling to hear, it wears me out too easily. There are a handful of people that I can comfortably talk to on the phone because they understand that I can only handle short conversations, but generally texting is best for me these days.

The cognitive challenges have definitely become more noticeable and frustrating. I'm not tracking conversations as easily and there just seems to be a fog over everything (thought-wise) that I've been fighting through. For someone who can usually multi-task and recite regulation from memory, it's beyond frustrating. I feel so stupid these days. I can't keep track of days or appointments, even with my reminders in place, and I'm not this flaky person. I don't want to be this flaky person.

I am fighting my way back, but it is slow going. My mood is slowing improving and I'm finding enjoyment in activities again. I'm finding my laughter again. I'm still exhausted and prone to severe anxiety attacks, but the medication is helping. It's a slow recovery, though.  Unfortunately, the combination of the slow recovery and lack of energy leading to isolation has made the mood recovery even slower.

Physically, there have been some new developments, and I'll be seeing several of my specialists this month to figure out the plan.  Not all of this is related to the attempt with the LDN; it just added to the situation to make it the perfect storm.

So, today, I'm going to focus on the time that I was able to spend with family, laughing at the goofy antics of our awesome dog, the beautiful plants growing in my garden, and the fact that I was able to give some very cool gifts to two very amazing women in my life.  It was a good day.

A list of definitions in my medical chart

Reality Bites (or How Invisible Illness Plays Out on "Reality Television")

So, I have a confession to make:  I enjoy watching reality television.

I know, I know.  It's not really based on reality and most would likely agree that it's not stellar television.  Part of the reason I enjoy it is that I love learning about people and getting into their lives. (Yes, that's the social worker in me.)  The other reason is it's generally pretty mindless, and quite frankly, I sometimes need to shut my brain off and watch some mindless television.

Years ago, I became sucked into the "Real Housewives" franchises (yes, multiple) on Bravo TV.  For the most part, the show has been a way to escape day-to-day drudgery and the homes and obviously different lifestyles were so far removed from my life that I couldn't relate.  I could watch without getting sucked in and it could stay mindless entertainment that I could laugh at (and sometimes, laugh at while rolling my eyes).

But I have to admit, the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills managed to suck me in in a different way. The last couple of seasons, one of the cast (Yolanda Foster) has been bravely coping and fighting Lyme Disease and the impact that it's had on her life has been featured on the show.  Chronic Lyme Disease can be debilitating, and it's changed her life in drastic ways (which she addresses on the show).  For the most part, her friends seemed to rally around her, and then...

Someone accuses her of having Munchhausen's Disease. Now, Munchhausen's is classified as a mental disorder where the individual makes themselves ill in order to gain the attention of medical professionals and others. (It's quite a bit more complicated than this explanation and is extremely rare.  In fact, there are some in the mental health field that deny that it exists and that all of the symptoms should be classified as Malingering.)  But, in reality, what this person was suggesting is something that everyone with Invisible Illness faces--"I don't believe you're sick."

One of the reasons this individual brought this up was because of the photos Ms. Foster posts on Instagram (which includes selfies of when she is ill and receiving treatments and alternatively, when she feels well and is able to enjoy her life).  I found myself yelling at the television as if I were watching a sporting match.

Here's the thing. Those of us living with Invisible Illness are sick. Some of us advocate and educate. Ms. Foster is brave enough to post photos of herself when she is ill and receiving treatment as a way to advocate and educate, and continues to be part of a cast on a reality show. I write a blog, train professionals how to work with individuals in the mental health field who are living with chronic pain, and provide mental health services to individuals with chronic pain. Others create memes and t-shirts to raise awareness.

But we are also people. We are people who have lives and enjoy having fun.  We do not always want to be sick.  We do not want to always live in the illness.  We want to be normal.  We have interests outside of advocating and educating and being ill.  On good days, we can even enjoy some of those interests.  It does not mean we are faking our illnesses.

A list of medical definitions in my medical chart.