Just Me Being Me: How Worrying About My Dog Wrecked My Schedule—And Saved My Life
If you've been wondering about what's been happening to Loaf, here's an update.
Just Me Being Me is literally just me being me, living my life outside my comfort zone when it happens as it happens. Since I’m a dedicated introvert, this doesn’t happen much, which makes it doubly interesting when it does.
Anyone who knows me is probably familiar with my dog Meatloaf. This little ball of fur and fluff and fat has been a part of my life with Raf for the last seven years.
We took him everywhere with us in Manila, and we still do the same now! When I used to work with Amplify.ph, he was at the office at least two days a week. We took him on supermarket runs, midnight drive-thrus, dinners with friends and family, beach trips — and eventually, all the way to Nevada when we moved.
The parameters of surviving 2020 have made it near-impossible for me to make new friends or hang out with old ones. I’m not willing to socialize and risk getting sick, so Loaf went from being my best friend to being my only in-real-life friend apart from my husband. I get the feeling that my husband has a similar relationship with him.
Quiet, chill, affectionate, and always around. Loaf always seems to know when he’s needed. He’s watched me cry countless times, making biscuits on my legs and willing me to feel better.
When he got sick, our whole world turned upside down.
What Happened to Meatloaf?
It started with an eye infection and upper respiratory troubles. We thought maybe that Loaf had bumped into something and accidentally hit his eye, and that his breathing difficulties were due to a pollen allergy or changing weather.
We took him to the vet and he got prescribed medication. He got better but never regained his previous energy levels — I used to be able to take him walking with me, but now he struggles just to get from our front door to our car.
After a few weeks, he suddenly lost his vision. One morning, he went from being able to navigate his way across tables and chairs to bumping into everything in his way. We thought it might be old age or a bad reaction to his new dry eye drops. As Raf was getting ready to take him to the vet to get Loaf’s eyes checked out, Loaf’s nose started bleeding. A lot.
What happened next is all blurry. We had to keep him confined at the animal hospital because he was so weak. Loaf needed two blood transfusions because tests revealed he was anemic. X-rays revealed that his immune system was reacting to some sort of systemic problem, but no one could figure out what it was. Guesses ranged from a small tumor to terminal cancer. It was like an (Animal) House episode.
We took him back home after two days and he promptly bled all over the place. It was rough and traumatic and very disorienting for everyone. My work schedule was wrecked because I work from home and to make it easier on Loaf — who is still blind — we decided to spend the week after he got back from the hospital in my home office. All three of us, together 24/7.
Raf hasn’t had a real night’s sleep since, I think. Because I work all the time — or try to, at least — he’s the one that has all the alarms set for Loaf’s medications.
What Was the Diagnosis—And What’s the Prognosis?
When we took him home, it was frankly to save some money. We couldn’t afford to keep him at the hospital any longer, and the doctors felt that his condition was stable enough to be managed at home. We still didn’t know then what was causing the bleeding and the lethargy and the vision loss and all the other little changes we’d noticed over the past few months.
A few days later, an early tick panel’s results came back and we learned that Loaf has a tick-borne disease. We don’t know how he got it, because he never goes anywhere these days — because we don’t go anywhere these days.
Our best guess is that a new dog that moved into our apartment complex had ticks. The vet tells us not to discount the possibility of this disease being transmitted to Loaf by a tick in the Philippines, before lying dormant in Loaf’s blood for more than a year. I honestly don’t care how he got it. I’m just happy that we now know what it is and how to treat it.
The prognosis is the best that we can hope for — his bleeding has already stopped and he isn’t as lethargic anymore. However, he’s still blind. We don’t know if his eyes will get better or if he’s just going to have to learn how to navigate this apartment by scent and sound.
How Did All of This “Save My Life”?
Isn’t it selfish to frame this situation in a way that paints me as the protagonist? Well. Self-centered, probably. Selfish? I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t think Loaf would mind.
I Learned to Trust and Lean on New Friends.
That first night outside the animal hospital, when we didn’t know what was happening and we couldn’t go inside with him because of COVID-19 protocols, I was at a complete loss. I didn’t feel like I could bother any of my friends in Manila or Vegas because of the inconvenient timing.
And honestly? I didn’t think it was right just to call them out of the blue after not putting in the time and effort into maintaining close relationships with them. See, now that would have been selfish. So I jumped on a friend’s Discord server and basically had two people I’ve never met in person listen to me cry about Loaf. It was cathartic.
This past year I’ve stressed a lot about not having friends, but it turns out that I just have to believe in people when they say they want to be my friend. And I have to not feel hurt when people I think I’m close to don’t seem to want to be there for me unless I ask specifically.
I Learned New Life Lessons, Not from the Universe, But From Loaf.
It’s funny, but I think the lesson is to not take personal relationships so personally. That’s something to add to the fundamental lessons that 2020’s been drilling into my brain: Trust yourself. Trust your intuition. Trust that things are unfolding as they should. Don’t force anything. Just let things happen.
I see those lessons in practice when I observe Loaf these days. He’s still blind, so he bumps into things even when he’s being careful and even when he’s following our voices. He never looks defeated or frustrated. He just tilts his head up and recalibrates, then moves forward again. Meatloaf isn’t a dog that gives up. He’s such a good boy.
He isn’t giving up, and he’s had it the hardest out of all three of us in this house. How come he’s the ray of sunshine and I’m the one that’s been falling apart? (Yes, I went — or maybe I am still going — through a depressive episode.)
That’s a lesson from Loaf — not from 2020, not from the universe, not from the Great Unknowable: Don’t give up and just keep going. And if you’re lucky, you’ll get to where you need to be and you’ll even get a treat.
P.S. Loaf Was Right!
Wouldn’t you know it? We didn’t give up. We kept going. And now the country where I live is on its way to where it needs to be — and we even got a treat.
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