Sit, Stay, Good Boy....I love you. Yes I do.

Life has come and gone again in our home.

This morning I could've sworn I heard Action, my dog, barking.  He greeted me every morning when I opened the vertical blinds that line the sliding door by my bed.  He was trained to be an outdoor dog and because of his breed, an American Eskimo, he preferred it that way.  The house was his to guard and his bark always let us know when our friends, delivery people, and other "nuisances" were nearby.  Even after going completely deaf, he could smell when people were close, but he always knew our family. 

Action was given to me in 1994 by a friend when we graduated from Pharmacy Tech School together.  He was the cutest thing I ever did see, I tell you.  Three months old, as big as a mini loaf of bread, all white fur (even his lashes), and a little black nose.  My parents were completely against it until they fell in love with him too, especially my dad.  In my opinion, he broke up the tension in the house sometimes and softened angry hearts.  How could you get mad?

As he grew older, he gave us some grief as most pets do when you're unfamiliar with what to do with them.  (Soap Box announcement:  get educated before you get pets for you or your kids.  They require a lot of work, money, insurance, exercise, and most of all your time & love....end announcement)   Our dog was extremely smart and proved it by causing havoc in the park across the street from our house.  Unknowingly (and frequently), our dog would hop over the back wall, run around the block, go to the park and have a good run.  When all was done, he would return the same way, in the same manner and greet us at the back door with a wag and a smile.  Til one day, he went during the park's kids' soccer season.  He got so excited and chased a kid, and eventually bit him.  (Dog rider on the house insurance = more $$)

One time on his way home from one of his morning jogs, he got hit by a car but came away with only scrapes and bruises.  We found out when the driver came to our house to ask us if we had a white dog.  We confirmed that we did and  he explained to us what had happened.  I checked the back yard and wouldn't you know it, he had returned before we could notice.  We checked him out and confirmed that it was true, especially when Action started barking like crazy at the man, but he was alright.  Just some First Aid, and TLC, and he was fine.

So we really had to watch him and put him on a really long leash so that he could still run around but not far enough to get out.  Poor guy.

Obedience school was one of the funnier times we shared together, like "Mommy & Me" for pets and their owners.  One funny memory is of us having a good day at school.  We finished and hopped into my Impala.(He loved riding with me.)  We exited the parking lot, and with the leash around my wrist, he jumped out of the window before I could accelerate into the street.  I had to slam the breaks on and get him back inside. Oy Vey!  Picture me, someone really short, in a huge car trying to get this dog back inside. There was a lot of crawling across that huge bench seat going on.

He also loved to dig holes.  Holes big enough for his body to shelter him in cold weather.  Instinct.  Imagine our surprise the first time we saw his tail wagging from the hill without a body present.  Pretty funny, but we couldn't stop him from doing it and ended up filling a lot of holes till he couldn't climb up anymore.

We named him Action because he was so fast and could outrun most dogs in the park.  I used to work graveyard shifts and would walk him in the morning.  My version of walking him was me taking him to the park hungry, letting him run around with other dogs, then calling him back with snacks in hand.  It always worked.  Other dogs seemed to get snacks too.  They'd smell them in my pockets and come and jump in my lap.  I spent a lot of money on snacks, lol.

Action would've been 16 years old next month.  In his old age, he'd gone deaf and had failing eyesight.  His hips were getting weak and getting up and down the steps was becoming a chore.  He still had a great loud bark that annoyed the heck out of our neighbors, but that's how he loved us, by protecting us.

Last night when mom went out to feed him, she found him on the side of the house lying down and permanently asleep.  His teeth were getting bad and he was having trouble chewing kibble.  We think he choked on a piece and might've had a heart attack in the process of coughing up the food or maybe a fur ball ( our dog had A LOT of hair )  The exertion was just too much for him.  I know he's happy wherever he is, running around and digging holes.  I miss him, I even looked outside to see if he was outside this morning, he wasn't.

I woke up and saw the last 5 minutes of Marley & Me, and caught the part that wasn't sad, but the part where it reminds you that this one little guy made you feel completely special, completely loved, and one of a kind.  That was a gift.  And when I looked out at the hill in our backyard where he loved to dig those enormous holes, I saw one beautiful flower that had blossomed as if to remind me that he would always be home.

 

I love you Action.  Sit.  Stay. Good Boy.

The 3rd Mile

Mile 1: Surviving physical & emotional tragedy

Mile 2: Completing Rehabilitation

Mile 3:  Reconnecting with the world

I feel as if I'd made a food dish without love, passion.  I've added all of the right ingredients,followed every step of preparation, employed all the right methods, temperatures, and proportions, but because it was something just "put together", it doesn't feel right.  The desire and excitement aren't proportionally right and I think I just need to scrap the dish and start over.

Take a breath.

I started work on January 18th, 2010.

Though this (to me) isn't a huge deal, it was.  I hate the spotlight being on me whether it be photos, attention, special treatment....I don't know why, but it embarrasses me. 

Ironically, I like people to know who I am.  I like to be a presence in all of your lives.  Who doesn't want to be known or heard for something good?

I did everything right as far as paperwork, e-mails, phone calls go, but something felt off.  Thankfully the transition was seamless, the work was easy, and oddly enough it was the rest of the day that was off.

The women's restroom on our floor has a VERY heavy door.  There's a small 1/2 inch lip in front of the door.  Going from a dead stop to rolling over an object requires a lot of strength, opposed to just being able to roll over with momentum as your strength.  I open the door and let the bolt , that locks the door in place, rest on the frame so that I can pop a wheelie and charge at the door to open it.  Sorry door.  Once I'm in, I usually get chewed up by the door's weight and have to maneuver carefully using both arms in order to prevent injury (more injury I should say) to my hands, arms, and chair.  After that obstacle I proceed through the interstitial area to another door which thankfully swings open.

Then comes the social interaction, the stares, the awkward meetings with the other women in the restroom.  In life you tend to be insensitive towards situations until you're forced to engage them.  In the first month back at work I've encountered 3 separate women who purposely used the Handicap Restroom while I was in there.  Once while washing my hands prior to going to the restroom a woman passed me up while doing the "pee pee" dance and rushed into the handicap stall, bypassing the 2 regular stalls.  She spent 5 minutes in the restroom, 4 of which she repeatedly blew her nose and flushed the toilet, about 8 times I'd say, until I just couldn't stand it.  With a stern voice I said, "Excuse me, are you done in there because I'm in a wheelchair.".  She assumed I was done and about to leave because she saw me washing my hands.  EEHHR ::game show buzzer::   WRONG ANSWER!

I get it, maybe you like having elbow room or maybe you like feeling elite by using the biggest stall in all of Wonderland.  I confess, I've used the handicap stall myself prior to injury, but if you're going to use "that" stall, please be quick and don't assume that someone is done because they're not in the stall.  For heaven's sake, just open your mouth and ask!

Common sense, I know, but for some reason, a specific group of people in high management positions seem to lack it.

As for the door situation, I've contacted the building's management office and was told by some intern or desk assistant that the building's policies were to have the doors shut that hard in order to prevent "peeping" into the women's restroom.  Even after explaining  that there was an interstitial area, the parrot echoed that it was policy.  I doubt he passed the message on so I have to follow up.  I don't want to get ugly, nasty, manipulative, I don't want to pull out trump cards like "worker's comp", but if I have to, I will.

One thing I've learned through the last year was how to advocate for myself.  I will call back again and again until it gets done, even if I have to pull a few strings.  Two snaps and a swivel of the neck, THAT'S RIGHT!!!

So, I guess frustration seems to be the wrong ingredient in my dish, yet perseverance seems to correct the situation.

I've received all of your prayers and well-wishes and am grateful to know that a motley little crew that I call friends are there to encourage, push, and wish me onto better things.  :)

Family Roots?

One thing lacking in my life is blood-related family, roots.  The topic of family saddens me especially when I meet people that are close to their families.  I get a little bitter and spiteful because I feel like my dad prevented me and my brother from being a part of something out of purely selfish reasons.  I hate the ego.  I prayed a lot that God would let me meet my family, and it's started to happen.

The long story short is that my dad has 8 brothers and sisters, and my grandfather (my lolo) has 8 brothers and sisters.  I have 4 half-siblings from my dad's previous marriage as well as a million cousins.  What Filipino doesn't?  It's a staple like Spam, Vienna sausages, parties with karaoke, rice, soy sauce...etc. lol.

Prior to my accident, I had always longed for family.  My father never talked about his roots and never invited us to family functions.  Apparently, we're the black sheep on my father's side.  We're estranged.  

But now, in the age of online communities, I've taken it upon myself to search them out.  I'm too cheap to pay for "family tree-building"/"people locating" websites because I know that I could probably do it myself.  It would only cost me time and tenacity.  Luckily for me, networking sites have made it impossible NOT to find family.  My last name, Almalel, makes the task even easier because ALL Almalels are related.  Every single person I requested on FB (that would accept) verified that in some way we were related.  The Excel sheet I started is getting out of hand so I just jot down facts now.

The beginning attempts to relate to my past have been interesting.  I have relatives all over the world.  I met my dad's 1st cousin who lives in AZ and it was cool talking to her because she was my dad's childhood crony.  She dished out a lot about my dad.  It was as if I found a book that detailed Jesus' life between the ages of 12 and 33.  Okay, that's a bit extreme, but I was equally as interested.

Searching for my family has ups and downs.  I now know that I have a 3 year old sister who's mom is probably my age....gross...., but I found my half brother on FB and was so glad to reconnect because apparently, he's a black sheep too. (He's gay and was disowned by my father in '97)  Today I met my 25 year old niece and we chatted a bit.  We decided to get together for lunch.  I feel weird meeting family in this stage of my life and honestly I feel stranger meeting them while in a wheelchair.  It's my own deal, I know.

But this is yet another answered prayer "post-accident".  I'm meeting family left and right and won't let my fear keep me from knowing them any longer.  Before, my dad kept my immediate family from knowing the whole family, so I'm taking the opportunity to meet them, whether it's odd or not.  I'm odd, so I'll be fine. :)

Christmas Reflection

This was a note that I posted on FB entitled "Tis The Season".  I wanted to share this with everyone I know that's followed my journey on a more public platform, though it's important for me to keep these things documented here, where my private thoughts lie.

Thanks to all who've supported me this last year.

Tis The Season

What if I told you that tomorrow your life would change drastically? You'll be hospitalized for 4 months and will have to relearn how to do things for yourself again. Your bladder and bowels will no longer respond and you can forget about sex for awhile. Independence will have to be put aside as well as pride because you will need help with everything. Pain will be a daily obstacle, yet not one that you cannot overcome.



Now, what if I told you that you would be given strength, peace, patience, and a TON of love while the change happens? That all your financial needs would be met and that you would be inspiration to other people? That your family would reunite, and that amazing friends would come out of nowhere, and that your path would be clear to you?

In 4 hours I will be celebrating my 1 year anniversary. I've survived and it's thanks to all of my family, friends, and obviously God.

The journey has begun and life is now perceived through a different mindset. A paradigm shift if you may. I'm much less negative and make an effort to be a better human everyday.

Remember what's important. Let the little things go. Time is short.

What's the old adage?

Live, Love, Laugh

God bless you all and Merry Christmas.