Post surgical blues

I haven't written in about a week. Frankly, I didn't want to wallow in non-happy feelings and that's all I could think to write about. Watching my dog drunk on buprenorphine in pain and me fighting with my girlfriend have been the highlights of my week. Not exactly vortex-inducing activities.

If you haven't read of Abraham's recent materials, the vortex is the happy place where you can find your inner being. It's where you go to get all the cool stuff you're manifesting (like a healthy dog) but you can't go there on purpose just to get stuff. You go there because it's nice to be there. There's no resistance there; all in hopeful and joyful. It's that state of mind that we feel most at home in, most enthusiastic about, and is a really nice place to be. Apparently.

Dmitri has a dressing around his abdomen now. The wound started dripping Thursday night, so we visited the vet yesterday to start that process. He's also up to 3 pain pills at a time, plus benadryl (for mast cell histamine problem prevention), an anti-inflammatory, prilosec, and antibiotics, bring his morning pill count to 9. The key is to find a wider variety of foods to hide them in--the current winner is half-melted cheese cubes. And to get him to want treats at all--he's not exactly working up an appetite. But at least he's not afraid to go from lying to standing and back again--we spent 12 hours straight standing then 16 lying down earlier thus week.

I'm talking about things I don't want, which is not a good thing to do. But there's a certain amount of relief in talking about it, too. The big thing right now to me is that we're all feeling better, not just Dmitri. And I'm finally to the place where I can picture long walk with him again, so now all I need is that pill shooter I can't find to make it easier to get these meds down his throat.

I recently heard Abraham say that when one decides to align oneself with one's inner being, often the shit hits the fan. Brings the contrast between what is wanted and what isn't into sharper . . . contrast. It's feeling pretty sharp right about now.

Having said that, noticing every little thing--how Dmitri sniffs the air when we go outside; how he lies down voluntarily; how he looks at me with scorn after a dressing change or pill administration--brings me more hope. He's feeling better enough to be grumpy with me instead of just frightened, and I know we'll soon be heading to the park and peeing on every 3rd blade of grass.

Well, I'll leave the peeing part to Dmitri.