Monday Reflection: Get Up From The Table When Shit Is Being Served!

Everybody got some "thing" going on in their life most of the time, if not all of the freaking time.

Some "things" cannot be helped, like an illness you didn't see coming. Like last year when my Sophie was diagnosed with cancer on Wednesday and on the following Monday I had to put her down.

 Like a job that ended unexpectedly, death in the family, someone hitting your car, without stopping and you are left with the task of getting a new one.

Like a person betrays your trust and your life is changed without your permission. Like recently I met a guy who had been in a monogamous relationship for five years, so he thought. After a few years of condom use, he let his guard down and now he is living with HIV. Just that quick, someone else made a decision to do something with their life and it changed both lives.

While some "things" are out of our control, there are "things" in our life we help create. Like that boyfriend that continues to disrespect you whether it be small or big, (by the way a lot of small adds up to big)  yet you just keep hanging on. Like the friend who treat's you like shit, but you keep sitting at the table where the shit is being served.

In both of those cases the fist time was on them, but everything after is about how you decide to deal with it. When shit is being served and you hang around, you tell that person, just by your presence that its O.K. It does not matter what comes out of your mouth. Action always speaks louder than words and your participation creates that "thing in your life, i.e. the stress and chaos.

Now, there is some "things" we can avoid altogether, like when you have just enough money to pay your bills, but you purchased that new "thing" that you convinced yourself was ok, instead of paying all of your bills  and now you're stressed cause the bills are pass due. I know how this can be, a couple of months ago I broke one of my cardinals rules "don't spend money that I don't have in my hand."

It does not matter that I'm expecting money to come in, I just don't over extend myself on the front end anymore. I learned that lesson so many times and I know better. Well, my fur needed to be repaired and put in storage. The furrier wanted upfront money that I didn't have. Because he respects what I do for a living he allowed me to pay installments.

I made a commitment  to pay something that day, which I did; Pay something the following  Monday because I was expecting a check that Friday and then to have the bill paid in full by the end of August. Needless to say, that check didn't come in for over a month and then everything that could have gone wrong did, and I lost control.

First off,  it made me look like a lair and  because my word is my honor I became stressed trying to keep the commitment that I had made.  I gave him money that should have gone to other bills, just to keep as much of my commitment as possible. You talking about stresssssssseddddd OMG!  Just waiting on money to come in became stressful.  And to make matters worst, everything I thought would happen the way I thought it would happen, didn't.  Even paper work to process a check got crazy and I got crazier.  This was a two month long drama that I had caused. I should have taken my fur back home until I had the money to pay for it.

Yep, we all got some "thing" going on in our life whether it's of our own making or not. At the end of the day though, it's not about the "thing" per say, it's about  how we deal, what we learn and what we do next. You all know that Sophie's death sent me into a serious year long depression. I was in it before I even realized it, but once I accepted that truth, I started the hard work of climbing out of that darkness.

 No, I didn't look for the light at the end of the tunnel to rescue me, I started crawling in the darkness searching for a way out of the tunnel. Sometimes you have to do the important work in the darkness.

Even in the fur situation, I had to accept the reality. I didn't have the money, I broke my word to the furrier and all that I could do was make good as soon as I could. Those last two weeks before I paid him off, I decided to buy groceries instead of giving him all that I had. Lesson had been learned, don't break that cardinal rule again for something as frivolous as getting a fur repaired.

You can't always change that "thing" in your life, but you can determine what happens at the end of that "thing." Like the guy who ended up with HIV. He said after some destructive behavior of his own, he literately uprooted and changed his environment. Today, he is living the best he can with what he has to deal with. Ex-Boyfriend gone, no more binge drinking, he accepted HIV because it ain't going anywhere. He's taking his medication, his viral load is undetectable and he has excelled at work in the last year, more than he had in the past 5 years.

I don't think life is about the "thing" that happens to us, the "thing" is just the middle, its what happens at the end of that "thing" that helps to shape who you are.  It's about finding yourself, finding your voice and even finding your purpose.

As you go through your "thing" remember it's not about that "thing" it's about how you deal with that "thing."

No matter how difficult it might be, you have to get up from the table where shit is being served, whether it's your shit or someone else's.

My depression hit me hard, but I decided it didn't have to hit me forever. I got up from the table and started working with professionals that could help me, help myself. That's how you live your best life. You take charge of those things that you can. You don't let that "thing" control your life forever. With every "thing"you have the power to empower yourself, even in the darkest of "things."

Depression, God and Staying Alive...

I've thought about suicide everyday since Robin Williams took his own life. The pain he must have felt at that moment must have been all consuming. I've been battling depression in the worst kind of way. I'm not sure how I got here but after Sophie passed I seemed to have gone over the edge. I talk about my grief and the onset of my depression in Drowning I and II. I saw myself slipping more and more into this darkness and tried to pull my way out with a plan that just went straight to hell in a hand basket one minute at a time. 

After Robin Williams death my mind started racing and I started to panic. I even asked my therapist about suicide and she said that most people don't give a lot of thought to it before they take their life. It's an impulsive act. The person becomes all consumed at the moment in time and it seems the only way out. In truth it scared me. Right now my life seems to be on some kind of autopilot run by someone other than me. No matter how hard I try I can't seem to do any of the things that I set out to do. It's like this, I say I'm going to go one way and I actually go another. Shit, most days I don't go at all, I just am. 

I came to the conclusion that I'm tired.... I'm tired of thinking.... I'm tired of taking medication... I'm tired of trying to make life happen... I'm tired of being this super famous black woman with AIDS... I'm tired of doing it on my own.. I'm tired of trying to save those that I'm suppose to be saving...  I'm tired of trying to make life work... I'm  FUCKING tired of AIDS... I'm tired of deciding if I should buy groceries or pay my cell phone bill with the little money I do manage to get. I'm tired, tired, tired. I'm even tired of being tired, so I just am.

Most days I don't have the energy to wash my tail. No joke, I can go 2-3 days without bathing. I say to myself, "Rae you stink" but most days I feel like I have a ball and chain around my neck and making it to the shower requires too much of me. So I do nothing. I marvel at the few times I've recently had commitments that were unavoidable and I was forced to make myself look like a woman with the world at my feet. When it's all said and done, I come home and with the stroke of a cloth I wipe the facade off my face, inch by inch by inch, and then I just am.

Some days I make it to the kitchen to cook at least the meat but cannot muster up the energy to make a vegetable. It's easier to eat cookies for breakfast and cheetoes for lunch. It requires only that I open the bag. Eating chocolate is even easier than washing fruit. I can't remember to take my medication and that's with my alarm set. I hit the button and I know what I'm suppose to do but doing it requires something of me. Quite frankly I'm tired of expectations, even those that will save my life.

I have never felt this level of hopelessness ever in my life. Even when mama was beating the living shit out of me I knew that she would eventually stop and I could go back to being a "normal" little girl just like my friends. Even when I was raped at 17 coming home from church, I knew deep down that when he finished his "business" he would roll off my body like water and I could go home and wash him out of my spirit. Even when my T-Cell count was 8 and I was on my third bout of PCP  (Pneumocystis carinii pneumonia) I had faith that God still had a plan. In all of my life there was faith in what I could not see. 

Right now, I'm even tired of faith. I'm tired of hoping and praying for better tomorrows in my right now pain. I want God to intervene in my right now, but right now he seems to be silent and His silence has exhausted me. I'm tired.... 

Be clear though, based on my history with God and my deep understanding of how God operates, I know that God has a plan for the rest of my life. Frankly, it is only that knowing of God that keeps me alive when I'm tired of living. I'm a tad curious on how this thing will play itself out. I'm probably just plain nosey, but for sure, curiosity and hope are two very different things 

Yet at the same time, any hope in God's plan for my tomorrow are overshadowed by my desolate right now. It feels like God has taken a freaking vacation on my life and just maybe some of my depression is connected to my faith; And honestly, church folk don't help God out one bit. The fact that I haven't been to church since the first day of Lent and the only thing any member of my church can tell you about me is what they read on Facebook is just... I'll leave that one alone for now.  I'm unpacking all of this in therapy. 

For sure, I understand that all consuming feeling and it has exhausted me into a place of just being.  Maybe the thing that helps to keep me alive besides my curiosity with God plan for my life, is that I'm just to tired to do anything other than just be. 

Related Post
Drowning Part One
Drowning Part Two

Drowning Part Two! Tackling Depression Head On!

Drowning Part One!
Nausea and exhaustion merged and sleep took over. I woke the next morning in my hotel room curled up in the middle of the bed hugging the pillow. Something had come over me last night and it had been cathartic. I knew I needed to do better. "Sophie is not coming back," I told myself. "The good thing is the joy she brought you for eight years," I mumbled.  I remind myself of this daily. I remember when Oprah lost one of her white Labs, Gracie after one year. She watched her die from swallowing a small toy. I had just gotten Sophie and could not  even image the pain she felt. I shuddered to think about it. I had Sophie for eight wonderful years.

As I made my morning tea I started to remember that Sophie had come to BlogHer last year with me. She was the bell of the lobby at the Sheraton Hotel and the official greeter at the MultiCulti party. I reflected on how happy she was going from arm to arm that night. I like the fact that BlogHer is dog friendly and Sophie fit right in! She was definitely Ms. Personality.

When I arrived back to Chicago I knew changes of some sort had to be made, but the moment I put my key in that door and there was no Sophie barking like crazy, dread swap over me. The worst part of being on earth without her is walking into silence each time I come home and waking in the morning without her being by my side. Adjusting to this this new life is hard, very hard. I'm not sure how long it's going to take for me to be at a better place.

My grief is real and so is my depression. I feel them in the debt of my Soul, yet there is a  part of me that is fighting, that wants to fight. I want to find a balance. I don't intend to avoid the grief but at the same time, I don't want the grief to control me. I didn't like how I felt in that hotel room in San Jose. I never want to be that self absorbed/consumed by one thing. I never want any one thing to have all of me. It's bad enough that HIV/AIDS has dictated a good portion of my life for most of my life. I want to control what I can. 

I understand that my depression is what the experts called "situational depression," which typically occurs after some sort of trauma and or traumatic changes  in your life. In my case, the sudden lost of Sophie. I'm having difficulties adjusting to the changes brought on by Sophie's passing and I just fucking miss her.

Situational depression is different for everyone as is major depression. For me, there hasn't been a day that has gone by that my heart hasn't ached for my baby girl. I've cried at least 32 of the 35 days she's been gone. 

Sleep is a far away thing that I believe will come back to me one day, but right now I haven't slept through the night if I slept at all. It takes everything and I mean EVERYTHING I got to do anything other than read and knit. And of course, I've been eating my way to hell and back.

It's been a week since BlogHer and that night in my hotel room  I consumed Reese's Peanut Butter cookies and S'mores with bacon on top. I'm proud to say that I have made some changes. No, I'm not better, I just made some changes for the better. I live in the real world and I know that it is not going to get better over night, but I have at least stopped myself from total destruction. This is my plan!!

1) Working Out! Exercise is important for me. Not only does it make me feel better overall, it actually increases endorphins. The experts say that 1 hour of exercise will work as well as anti-depressants for mild depression. Speaking of anti-depressants, the week Sophie passed I started Trazodone because it has a sleep add. I stopped last week because I don't like being groggy in the morning and still sleep deprived because sometimes  the medication helps and other times it does not. 

 BTW I got 3 days of Crossfit in last week. That's a start! If I don't make it to the gym, I make it up with the amount of walking I do. For example, I often walk home from therapy,which is about 3 miles. Or I try to take a walk on the lakefront.

2) Eating! I'm an emotional eater for sure and I have grain 10 pounds since Sophie passed.  My goal is to eat as clean as possible, which is where I was before my life changed. 

For me eating cleans means that I'm following either the Paleo Diet or Low-Fodmap diet set by my Gastroenterologist, usually, I'm somewhere in between.  Following these diets are important because they help my Irritable Bowl Syndrome. Since my eating has been whack, my body has been out of whack. I've become constipated again. This is not good!! I have no desire to be back on laxatives again. Remember the fiasco? The benefit of eating clean is weight control.

3) Not Setting Myself up for Failure! Because I'm such an emotional eater, what I bring into my house is important. On top of that, life is to short to deprive myself of sugar. *shrugs* I like dessert after a meal, always have, always will. To be sure, I don't want to over indulge. I make sure that I have fruit in the house at all times. I also buy popcorn in small bags like Skinny Pop or Trader Joe's Lite Kettle Corn.

I get cookies that go far in portion size verses calories.  For example, Trader Joe's Ginger Snaps, are 130 calories  for 6 cookies. By the time I reach the fifth cookie that impulse to eat has passed and the damage is minimum. BTW, they have them in tons of different flavors. Now, with those big ass cookies I was eating in San Jose, I had to be taking in close to 500-800 calories a cookie.

4) Therapy! I missed a lot of my therapy appointments prior to Sophie passing because of my health. Remember I was at home shut down on IV medication, then the liposuction procedure? Then our July routine was thrown off by scheduling for both me and my therapist.  I'm back at it, no missed appointments. This is an important part of my life. Therapy is a neutral place to process my pain without any judgments or expectations. It always leads me to a good place.

5) Be Kind to Myself! If I don't follow through on any of the above. I forgive myself at night and wake to a new day with fresh possibilities.

6) I'm getting another dog! I know that I cannot replace Sophie, nor would I ever try. In fact, all of my dogs have had there own personality and brought something different and wonderful to my life. But I've learned something new about myself in the last 35 days since Sophie's death. I need whatever it is a dog brings to my life and whatever it is that I bring to theirs. This is the first time in 21 years that I've been without a poodle and I'm not going to deprive myself because I cannot have Sophie. Stay Tuned!

Coping with lost of any sort is hard. Each of us must figure out the best path that will lead to the best outcomes. The darkness will pass if we don't fight against the darkness, like going against the gain. The darkness will pass if you don't plant yourself in the darkness, holding onto it for the life of you. It will pass, for nothing stays the same. Remember, no experience is ever wasted, not even moments of  darkness. As for me, I'm sure when the light starts to trickle through the darkness, I will look back and say, Aha, I see what was learned in these moments of darkness.

Drowning... Part 1

I'm drowning in the chaos of my life. It started back in February when I started this emotional eating and Cheetos was always in my right hand, going straight into my month. Now, in full disclosure, I took a moment a couple of months ago to examine what had gotten me so off  track and all roads led to a man that I wanted, but who didn't want a relationship. So I walked as hard and as fast as I could to a place where I could hold onto my dignity. For me it's simple. No matter how much I want a man, I never want to keep him at the cost of me. 

Even with HIV/AIDS I would much prefer to be alone then to be with a man who is half in/half out. My tail is to old to "kick it," unless I'm kicking a ball in CrossFit. 

Not only am I not going to waste my pretty, I'm never going to let a man suck the life out of me. That is, him getting what he wants, while I'm just hanging and hoping that I will get all of him as my reward. Women are good for that, sticking around with the hope and a prayer that staying on his terms will render us victoriously. Let me tell you, it will never happen. When a man tells you that he does not want a relationship he means it and it does not matter how wonderful you are or if you make his toes curl in bed. Furthermore, staying will not only suck the life out of you, but it will kill your spirit and topple your self-esteem.  

While I know that walking was the best thing for me, it sent me on a down spiral of emotional eating. I mean who wants to be alone? Especially after you have started to bond and was hopeful for a future. I got sick after him with one back to back illness that sent me overboard. You do remember those sleepless nights caused by uncontrollable hot flashes that lead to mood swings and sleep deprivation, while the doctors tried to figure out the best combination of Hormone Replacement Therapy and HIV medication. After that, the health issues just kept coming. I had a bad case of HIV Peripheral Neuropathy in my feet and legs. Then I had a cold that turned into bronchitis and after that I pulled a muscle in my back and even breathing hurt. Then to pour salt in my wounds, I had a herpes outbreak that landed me back on IV medication. I was sinking, but fighting to hold my head above the water. 

With the death of Sophie I lost all control and started to  drown. I couldn't seem to keep my head above water no mater how hard I tried. Nothing seemed to be going in my favor and I took an emotional tumble. I was drowning and no matter how hard I fought, the depression kept coming and coming and coming. Eating became my enemy disguised as my best friend. I went from Cheetos to Flamin Hots mixed with Doritos and a Snickers on the side, and of course a cupcake or two. The three weeks following Sophie's death, all my healthy living died right along with her. 

When I made it to BlogHer last week I got off the plane in San Jose on the hunt for food - good comfort food. I had onion rings and beef brisket and burgers and fried chicken and hand cut french fires and milk shakes. I ate the danishes at the conference each morning instead of the fruit.  For real, my plate was filled with bacon and sweet rolls every morning with tea on the side.  I knew that I was drowning, but I couldn't seem to gather the strength to save myself. 

Now the best, and worst of it all, was this little bakery I found in the San Jose's Public Market, Chocatoo.  Chocoatoo has the best freaking cookies that I have ever eaten in life. I'm not sure which was my favorite. There was the chocolate S'mores rich with graham crackers, marshmallows and big dark chocolate chips. 

Then there was the basic chocolate chip with dark and milk chocolate but my God, that Reese's Peanut Butter with large chunks of Reese's and milk chocolate made my taste buds do a dance. I had 3 of these large cookies  a day, yes I said 3, 1-2-3. It was over the top, but it sure seemed to ease the pain. I knew that I was out of control but I couldn't seem to stop myself. I kept trying to come up for air but the waves kept pulling me back in. 

By Friday, I had been to Chocotoo twice  for a total of 6 cookies. That should have been my limit but when my girlfriend Dwana arrived to San Jose,  I had to introduce her to the best cookies ever. That day I got 2 Reees's and 1 S'mores. I should have stopped there, but following Dwana's lead, I got the homemade marshmallow S'mores. This delight was 4 inches of homemade marshmallow between two graham crackers dipped in dark chocolate, with caramelized bacon on top. 

I had eaten a cookie by the time we arrived back to the hotel. Once we arrived,  I got me a fresh cup of hot tea and dived into the homemade S'mores.  It was divine!! 

That left me with two cookies and I was straight out of control. It's crazy when you can see yourself in deep water but can't seem to pull yourself to the top.  After the MultiCulti party 
that night I came back to my room, made another cup of tea and had my last two cookies ... well all but a ¼ of the Reese's.  It was then time for sleep. 

I need to pause and say my food for that entire day consisted of; bacon and sweet rolls for breakfast, roast beef sandwich and salad for lunch with a fruit tart for dessert. Then Dwana and I had a meal at local restaurant a local couple hours after lunch, where I had homemade onion rings and beef brisket. That was a lot of food, then we must add the 2 and 3/4 large cookies and a 4 inch high S'mores.

Missing Sophie, I curled into a tight ball hugging the pillow to let sleep take me away from my misery. I closed my eyes and nausea swept over me.  It jolted me out of my semi-sleep. The nausea consumed my body and right to my very core, my soul. It was as if the universe was saying, "that's enough Rae that's enough." Tears started to flow. I knew that I had to make a change. Sophie is not coming back, that man is long gone and my health hangs in the balance by what I do and don't do. 

"Oh God, "I cried out. "Help me! God Help me!"

Drowning Part II

Tackling Grief...

Grief is a monster! I'm learning that it also sticks to you like Gorilla glue. Honestly, these last three weeks dealing with the lost of Sophie has been new territory for me. I've never felt this level of sorrow for anything even when I lost my first two dogs. When Imani died I was sad and I cried a lot, but it didn't effect my bottom line. She had lived 12 years and while I was very sad, I was not overwhelmed. I had also done everything possible for her lung disease and was at peace with that fact. Of course I still had Nambi, who was Imani's baby and she was my constant companion. I had Nambi for 16 years. She and Sophie overlapped for almost four years. When I put Nambi down, I felt like she had lived a long and good life. I blogged about Nambi when I first started. You can read it here.

Imani and Nambi

When I put Nambi down there was Sophie, who was full of life and demanding.  She was not having it; not too many sad moments in my house. Sophie even knew the difference from when I was actually sick, verses those days filled with depression. On those days, she insisted that we get out of bed. Her mission in life seemed to make sure that I lived in my life. She accomplished her mission. There was never a dull moment in my house with Sophie.

Sophie Demanding Attention!

Maybe that's why losing her has taken me for a loop. She was the life of the party each and every day. I'm sure loosing her unexpectedly and at a mid age has also impacted my grief level. The average  Poodle lives 12-15 years. Maybe my grief is also impacted by the fact this is the first time that I have been without a dog in 21 years.

What I know for sure is that my grief is all consuming. Even with the lost of my mothers, both of them, I didn't feel this kind of sadness. I remember my friend, recording artist, Teresa Griffin telling me that she cried more over  the death of  her little Pomeranian Poppy, then her father and she loved her father dearly.

I know some people want me to move on, but its not so simple. While there's no easy way to deal with grief, I'm learning to tackle it head on.

For sure avoiding it or pretending that you are not hurting will only send you into a deeper depression. Right now my depression is what my doctor calls "situational depression," but if I don't deal with it in a healthy manner, it could become long term.

It's no secret that I have dealt with depression living with HIV/AIDS. However prior to Sophie, I was doing well. In fact, a few months ago my doctor and I decided for me to take a  break from anti-depressants, to give my body a break. For sure less drugs are always better. But that first week I lost Sophie, I  was popping valium just to sleep. I knew that had to stop, so I switched to an antidepressant that would help me sleep with the advice of my doctor

I'm also an emotional eater and the last two weeks I have eaten more comfort food then I had in the last 6 months. The end result has been weight gain, but I had to decide which battle I could fight effectivity, so I'm going with the flow.

 It was way to much pressure forcing myself to eat "clean" and deal with the grief at the same time. I took the pressure off before it sent me into self- loathing and a deeper depression. I'm finding that with the pressure off, I tend to have a tad more balance. I'm living in the now. I don't punish myself if I don't have the balance, I just start with each new meal or snack and accept that which is. In time, I'm sure that healthy choices will become my norm again. The thing about me is that I never seem to let one thing control my life forever. I tend to regain control in time. Going with the flow is the theme of the hour, even with activities.  If I feel like it, I do it, if I don't, then I don't. Nothing is forced. I wait until my heart is in it before I do it. Added pressure leads to added depression. I want to get through this, not stay in it, so I'm using the methods that work best for me. There is no one way to tackle grief I think we all have to do what feels right.

Working out is also helping my mood swings. I find that the days  I do Crossfit, I tend to be less sad. I know working out does increase your serotonin. After the BlogHer Conference this week, I'm hoping to get back to five days a week.

One of the most cathartic things I've done is to turn Sophie's Instagram account into a memorial page. I go there and post  pictures and while there is an element of sadness to it, it also reminds me how special she was and how much joy she brought to my life and that always makes me smile. Equally importantly, it keeps me grounded, looking at her pictures and remembering in this way, reminds me that it is for sure better to have had her, then to not have had her at all.  It also reminds me that she was such a happy dog and to have her suffer would have been worst than her death for both of us.

I'm not sure how long it's going to take me to get to a better place and I'm not putting pressure on nor am I allowing others to put pressure on me.  If someone is tired of me talking about her then don't talk to me. Tried of me posting about her and my feeling about losing her on Social Media then unfollow me. Don't make me hide my emotions because you don't understand, care, or its depressing. Wonder how I feel to be the one experiencing the lost.

It is what it is. I miss Sophie terribly so and I'm giving myself the time. This grief that I'm feeling will go away in time. I will always miss her but the hurt I'm sure will soften in time. For sure, I'm not totally stuck anymore. I can see improvement from that first week I put her down when I didn't even wash my body or a dish. Three weeks in, I am back to work, blogging, working on RLT Collection trying to get my site up to date and preparing for BlogHer 2014, I think that is progress. The one thing that I don't intend to do is fill my life up with activity as a well to avoid the pain. I'm allowing my grief to go through a natural process on it's own terms so that I can emerge a better person to have experience this lost. They say what does not kill you, makes you stronger.

Losing Sophie..

Two weeks ago today I stopped living after I put my baby girl Sophie down. Like for real, for real. Honest to God, I have never felt grief on this magnitude. While I still had breath in my body, my life stood still. Sophie was a special dog that left a foot print on everyone she encountered. For a moment I didn't think that I could go on. The grief was all consuming but like with most things in my life,  I kept going in spite of the pain. So here I am, still missing my baby girl and adjusting to life without her. 

The last time I blogged was to tell you that Sophie had Liver Cancer. I thought that I had a week to find a solution but Sophie took a turn for the worst that night within hours of posting that blog. She didn't want to eat or walk and her breathing became erratic. I felt so helpless as the night progressed. The only thing I knew to do was to be as close to her as I could. She didn't want to sleep in the bed, so I made a pallet on the hardwood floor next to the big chair in my living room that she laid under. It was one of the longest nights of my life. She was restless and breathless. Every time she moved, I moved. When she got water I watched her until she was back under the chair resting. A few times she laid under my arms and then on the pallet, but mostly under the chair was her comfort zone. 

By day break with almost no sleep Sophie was struggling just to breath. My baby girl was slipping before my eyes and I didn't know how to save her. It's still hard to believe that less than a week before this day, she was barking for bacon. Determined to make the plan Dr. Gill and I agreed on work, Tiara held Sophie in her lap as I gave her each medication. She looked up with sad eyes, "No mommie I don't want it," but it was all I could think to do. 

In the two hours waiting on the animal clinic to open I prayed for a miracle as Sophie precious eyes cried, "help me Mommie, help me." I was asking for God's help and she was asking for my help.  When I finally reached Dr. Gill and filled her in on the night, I was still hoping for a solution; a way to help my baby girl. After I finished, Dr. Gill said, "You know there are only two choices and I'm not sure that she can make it through surgery.  "I know, I know" I said defeated and filled with anogny, with my baby girl next to me looking up at me, "Help me Mommie, help me." There was a pause, "Are you ready?" Dr Gill asked. Through my tears came, "yes."

Tiara and I rode in silence to the clinic while baby girl laid in my arms trying her best to catch her breath. "I'm sorry baby girl, Mommie loves you," I whispered to her. Once we arrived, Tiara and I took pictures with Sophie before I handed her to Dr. Gill to place the catheter. 

She was in so much distress, Dr. Gill looked at her, "That baby can't get her breath," she said to Sophie. Tiara stood in the corner tears flowing.  I stood over sophie lying on the table still trying to get her breath. I was so overwhelmed with grief. "Thank you Sophie for eight wonderful years," I whispered to her, "Mommie will always love you." 

Watching my baby girl die was one of the hardest things I've had to do, but yet at the same time I knew it was the best thing, most human thing. It was the last good thing that I could do for her.  

Sophie Barking For Bacon 5 Days before I put her to rest.. Her BFF Kennedy was just hanging in the cut waiting... LOL... She barked for bacon ever morning I cooked... She barked for a treat each time I had a meal, it was our routine. She was so full of life the entire 8 years she was with me. I'm  glad that her suffering was not long, but I'm sad she had to go. I miss her dearly...

Rest In Peace Sophie....

#RIP Rest In Peace  my precious baby girl... Sophie Lewis-Thornton. April 12, 2006-July 1, 2014. You were a wonderful companion.. I miss you dearly.. Mommie...

When Your Dog Has Cancer....

It felt like the life had been sucked out of me when a specialist/radiologist told me that my dog Sophie has a tumor the size of an egg on her liver. But I felt like I had been sucker punched today when I learned from the new veterinarian that I switched her to, that the tumor was actually the size of a grapefruit, maybe close to two and not an egg. I know it to be true because I saw the tumor on the xray myself.

I'm not sure how the radiologist missed a tumor this large when he performed the ultrasound on Wednesday. To add insult to injury, I  actually took Sophie to the Vet back in December for her back and they x-rayed and saw that her liver was enlarged and never mentioned it.

 I learned in April that her liver enzymes where very high and they suggested an ultrasound. I had been trying to pull the money together to get the ultrasound, then I got sick and was shut down a few weeks that's why I haven't been blogging.  But last week I decided that I needed to make the ultrasound happened because Sophie was just restless. It was  then I started selling my handbags and jewelry on Facebook. (BTW) thanks to everyone who purchased something from me; I've spent over $1200 since last week. For sure without your purchases I would not have been able to get Sophie the care that was  needed.

Dr Gill with Sophie!

So here we are. A missed tumor in December and a misdiagnosed tumor just lest week. But I knew in my spirit that I need a new veterinarian on Thursday after I got off the phone with her current Vet about the ultrasound report. He just didn't seem proactive.

Thank God I followed my first mind. If I hadn't switched to Dr. Gill at Bronzeville Animal Clinic, I would have never known how advanced the cancer really is.

After speaking with me on Thursday,  Dr. Gill was on top of it, looking for solutions to shrink a tumor, at that time so we thought, the size of an egg. (based on the radiologist report on Wednesday)

When Dr. Gill saw Sophie on Saturday she was really concerned. She thought then that this tumor was really bad and put some extra medicines on board. On Monday she decided that Sophie was in way to much distress and took an xray herself to discover that the tumor is so large it has shifted all of Sophie's organs. 

Did you understand all of that? Cause it was a mouthful for sure. The bottom line, my baby girl has liver cancer and it's not good. For the last 3 days it seems to have gotten worst. She don't want to walk, she barley eats and she whines all day.

But then who would want to walk if all your organs had shifted and you have a tumor covering your entire tummy. She can't get comfortable. She's just an unhappy baby.

I've cried until I can't cry anymore. Well that's a lie, I get overwhelmed about every few hours and have a moment.  I can't wrap my brain around this. I feel like God got jokes. Like really God? 

Dr. Gill and I thought we had a plan on Saturday, but now it has been shot to hell by the size of the tumor.  Chemotherapy and radiation does not work for this type of cancer, so basically, the tumor has to come out; A surgery she probably would not survive.  

The plan today is to see if any of these medicines we got on board will give her some relief. Maybe prednisone will shrink the tumor, at least that'[s our hope.  Next week If we have not seen any improvement in the quality of her life, I will  have to make one of the most important and hardest decisions of my life; Operate or just put her under. 

Monday Reflection: Gratitude-In Spite Of!

I heard the birds singing and I opened one eye to see if the sun was out. I could barely move from exhaustion from the BlogHer Conference and the nerve pain medication that I'm taking, which makes me groggy, but as I lay in bed this morning my heart was filled with gratitude. I could hear and see and in spite of my exhaustion and pain level, I could even move. I opened both eyes to check on my baby girl, and Sophie was buried in the pillows next to me sleeping like a wild child and probably happy to be home from the four night stay in the hotel this past week.

I checked my phone for the time, it was 5:30 A. M. and I crawled out of bed to use the bedroom. As I laid back down I remembered out the blue the time I woke up in a hotel room and I couldn't walk. I had to crawl to the bathroom and back to the bed. I was on the road planning to speak at the University of Illinois in Champaign and overnight, I developed Herpes Zoster (Shingles). The pain was so intense walking was near impossible. It was an event for Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc. and I was determined to not leave my "Sorors" hanging. My doctor wanted me to come home immediately, but with a hard head and determination I stayed.

By that evening I had sores from the top of my butt to the bottom of my feet. My Godchild, Toi,  took the bus down to be with me and that night she had to help me get dress. That night I stood by the grace of God for almost two hours in 4 inch heels. Toi drove me back to Chicago, me laid out in the back seat of my car. When we arrived home in the middle of the night, I had to crawl up the two flights of stairs to get to my apartment and crawl back down that morning to go to the doctor. Recovery took over a month. I couldn't walk and morphine was the only thing that relieved my pain.

No matter how I look, or how active I seem to people, I understand clearly, with AIDS you can get hit from nowhere and it is what it is. Most days I get hit actually, it's just some days I get hit harder than others. Somedays I smile through it, other days I cuss through it.

Because this life of AIDS is unpredictable, I never take it for granted. Now don't be confused, there are days when I think I've had enough. Days when I want to cuss, fuss and rant through it and do, and a smile is foreign to my face. Days when I want to say enough is enough. 

Like these past three weeks on IV medication, I was so sick I couldn't  think straight and I had a funky attitude to go right along with how I was feeling. People don't understand the drama one is faced when a medication that is making you better in one area but it also makes you so sick in another. For sure, for me there is a hopelessness I feel. Its like being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Especially when I have no control. It makes you lose perspective, the larger picture.

Yet at the end of the day, I understand that life is a blessing. I get it! I'm alive!  This is my life, my struggle, but yet I still have gratitude.

So this morning when I heard the birds signing, telling me that it was a new day, I was overwhelmed in my heart and my spirit. 

Today, I had perspective and with perspective, I could smile, smile because I could hear the birds singing, see my baby girl laying peacefully next to me. I could walk to the bathroom on my feet and despite all I've been through, I still have my right mind. I was filled with nothing but gratitude this morning in spite of my lie with AIDS.

Post Scrpit: I'm looking for a blog editor send your info to Rae@raelewisthonton.com

When Enough is Enough...

My last few weeks have been crazy, bizarre, difficult, did I say crazy? I was blind sided and it sent me over the cliff. For Real! The last time I wrote a blog I had declared war on my body fat. It took a minute but I got in a groove. I had made it to the gym up to 4 days a week.  I was back to a great routine, working on new bracelet designs, shipping out orders, working on the AIDS ministry at church. I was feeling good and feeling good about myself, then I got hit by a Mack truck. It seemed to all come tumbling down at the same time. I started to get nerve pain in my back. Then I started to feel wiped out and then I though I had an herpes outbreak. Well, it certainly looked like herpes to both me and my doctor.

You know then, it was time to go back on IV medication. I spent my birthday at the doctors, then came home to get the house ready to receive medical supplies and bags of IV medication.

Then Sophie woke up in pain. I rushed her to the vet and she had a decompressed disc. Then the nurse came to get me started on my IV medication and after 3 tries of accessing the port, she gave up. She said in 15 years she has never had a port this difficult to access. Then I had to got back to have the experts look at the port. It took a ton of ex-rays and eventually the attending to access the port

After messing around at the clinic then the hospital  for
8 hours in total, I came home to a very sick baby. I dropped my handbag on the floor and went straight to her pain medication. she was hurting and I was hurting and hurting even more that I had to spend the day at the hospital dealing with this damn port again. Oh, did I say that I had a complete and total melt down at the doctors office before they sent me over to hospital to look inside my port? Thank God for Deacon Erica who called right at the time of the meltdown, then came over to the medical professional building and went over to the hospital with me and stayed until I got registered, 

Sophie wouldn't walk pass the house. Most nights she was up and I was up with her. Nothing worse than a dog full of life being sick. Well, maybe her not being able to talk and tell me where she hurts. Those eyes of pain were a killer, for real.

Then I started IV medication and the side effects started to kick my ass. Then after a few days the port wouldn't flush so back to the hospital. Oh then the home health care nurse quit because she didn't want any liability for the port. So after going back to get the chef of the department to look at the port, which he did and got to work in like 30 seconds, my Infectious disease doctor took me off the IV medication because the herpes culture came back negative.

Now we are thinking that menopause is playing a jacked up game on my vagina! It's red and raw and itches and most days I want to cut it out and sit it on the side of the road.

Then Sophie, my bay girl, needed to go on new medication because week two and she still didn't want to walk. We were up most nights. Me trying to make her better and take care of me at the same time. Bracelet orders got backed up, my spirit began to crash.  Into week 3 and I had had enough. I shut down from the world. I've spent the last 3 days off social media, reading and not interacting with most of the world. I was trying to find the lost me. 

Then last night after 3 long weeks, when we got in bed, Sophie wanted to play with her toy. I of course didn't want to engage the world. Remember I'm still lost.  I just wanted to be sad. I mean she had been so sick. My vagina is still raw and red and my chest is still sore from all the poking; but Sophie insisted that we play with her pink uterus stuff toy.

It was as if Sophie had declared, enough is enough is enough. I got it! God spoke loud and clear through my little angel. So we are getting back to our normal routine. I'm up writing a blog, she's still getting her beauty rest. Which is a wonderful thing to see, because sleep hasn't come easy for her in the last 3 weeks. Bracelets orders will get filled and the gym is my plain sight. Will I get back to my normal over night? No... but if I don't start somewhere, normal will never have a chance.

You see, at the end of the day, there is always a morning. The question is, what will you do with your morning after the storm clears and your midnight has turn into day?

When we wake in the morning we are still a part of God's earthly plan. No matter what you are facing even when your morning feels like midnight, God still has a plan for your life.

The most awesome thing is in God's awesome love, we are blessed with the gift to say enough is enough, in our right now. We might not be able to change our situation in the right now, but you can change how you see your right now. 

Sophie's Mommie

I always wanted children, well not quite children, a child, a little girl but AIDS took that away from me. It was a hard decision to not have children but I made it. Having such a rocky entrance into this world and an even rockier childhood I had some very clear ideas about how children should be brought into this world. My bottom line; bring children in the world when your circumstance permit. I wasn't really opposed to being a single parent, but if I was struggling to put food on the table, well then my circumstance didn't permit. I've been a one woman show since I was a senior in high school, when I got put out for being 15 minutes late for curfew, 12:15. Mama said, "Go back where you just came from bitch," and I've been putting bread on my table ever since.

So children, single and struggling I didn't think was a bright idea and then when I had a husband, HIV treatment and care wasn't what it is today. There was more of a risk of infecting a child back in the early days; a whopping 30% and that was 30 too many. Now things have changed and it's about a 2% chance that the child will be infected if a woman takes a very specific anti-retroviral treatment in the first trimester. This is why HIV testing for pregnant women is so critical.

So my not having children is a clear and definite effect of having contracted HIV. It's a lost a mourn years ago and filled in other ways. Many don't know but I took in a teenager I met when I first started speaking and helped to raise her with her grandmother. She was a hand full but now grown up, married and raising a child of her own. There were a host of other young ladies met while speaking who were in and out of my house and living with me at periods of time and they are in and out of my life too all grown up and doing their thing.

I'm grateful that my home could be a safe place, it clearly takes a village. But truly my dogs have really filled a void.

Imani in her prime

First was Imani, my first born was loving, attentive but she was playful. So she divided her time between me and her rubber duckie's and balls. Then Imani had a baby Nambi who was often called little Rae. Diva dog for sure. She didn't play, she didn't sit on the floor and she couldn't be bothered with most people other than me and, Toi the young lady I helped to raise.

I had Imani for 12 years and she so taught me how to live outside of myself. She had some kind of lung disease and there would be nights when she and I would sit on the toilet with a hot shower running so she could get the steam. Lawd, watching her die almost killed me. After I put her under I cried for days, weeks and months. There would be days I would be getting ready for a speaking engagement and tears would just start to flow.

Nambi a year before she died.

But I still had Nambi, little Rae as my close friends called her and she was my shadow. If I went there in the house, so did she. She never left my side, NEVER. She was Imani's baby from her one and only litter and she was my constant companion.  Imani played and Nambi layed on the pillow over me.

But when she was 12 years old, like her mother Imani her health started to take a turn. I drove down to the University of Illinois State of the art animal hospital so they could fix my baby girl up, like I had done with her mother, but they told me her time was near and that I should put her under.

I cried all the way home, me her and Sophie. I had gotten Sophie two weeks prior. It had taken me a whopping 3 years to get a new baby after Imani's death.

Sophie at 2 months

We were a sight to see, me tears flowing the entire 2 1/2 ride back home, Sophie full of life and Nambi looking up at me like mommie. "Why did you bring this hyper ass child into our lives in my old age. I can't take it can I please die in peace?"

I got back to Chicago and nursed my baby. I had put one baby to sleep and I didn't think I could do it again. I knew it would kill me too, I just couldn't. It was madness in my bed. Me, Nambi and Sophie. Sophie is bigger than Nambi and she would lay across Nambi and look into her face like, "When we gonna play?" And Nambi would growl through her sickness, "If you don't get off me bitch you better."

Sophie!

I didn't go anywhere for about two weeks. I just couldn't leave my baby and I couldn't put her to sleep. I just couldn't and then slowly she started to bounce back. She was my little miracle. You can read more on her here. It was the second Blog post I ever wrote.

She lived another four years. I had her for 16 years. The vet thinks bringing the puppy into her life made the difference. And it gave me more time. Time to let her go and time for Sophie to steal my heart.

For sure this is Sophie's world and I'm just her mom. Since Nambi's death a tad over two years it's just me and her. She is for sure the queen of this castle. She just waited Nambi out; but for sure she had been waiting to be an only child.

Lawddd this girl since day one has been a handful. When she was 6 months she knocked down my 8 foot Christmas Tree with ALL my $100 ornaments I had been collecting for over 10 years. There's never a dull moment with Sophie NEVER!

Sophie and her friend Jack

She's the happiest baby in the world. She is a little socialite. I call her walks the Sophie Lewis-Thornton Social Hour. She speaks to every person and every dog no matter how big or small.

She has this way of making me LIVE!. Taking me out of myself, out of my shit, my chaos, my mind and my illness. Some days when I'm in this bed stuck in the darkness, she insists that we get up out of this bed and go to the living room and sit on the sofa and look out the picture window.

She has this way; this wonderful way of taking me out of the darkness of this disease.

So it's 7:00 am and I'm up with her. I've been up since 4:00 am. She woke me up, something is wrong. She's whining and clinging and breathing heavy and restless. Most likely it's a belly ache, I pray. But I will only be able to know for sure as the day goes on. But for sure, I'm not thinking about my shit, my nerve pain, my finances, or all the work that needs to be done in the next week before the tweet-up. At this moment, all I can only think about is being Sophie's Mommie..     BTW.. You can follow Sophie on Twitter Here...

Me and Sophie in the Ocean in Turks and Caicos