Split

There are days and weeks (and months) when so much happens, so much that I want to write about, that I simply don’t have the time to write.  Or, if I do have the time, it’s late at night when I can’t keep my eyes open.  There have been a lot of those days and weeks recently…

Hockey has returned.  Good timing — as the Cubs just ended most of my interest in baseball until Spring Training, losing a one-game NL Central tiebreaker and the National League Wild Card game on back-to-back days.  Back to hockey…the Coyotes and Blackhawks start their quests for Lord Stanley’s Cup tonight.  My Tucson Roadrunners take the ice on Saturday night–my first game of the season–against the San Diego Gulls.

I have recently been very charged up over the possibility of Brett Kavanaugh becoming the newest lifetime member of the United States Supreme Court.  Without getting too deep into the political mud, let’s just say that I think his views on women’s rights to control their own bodies–and even to consume birth control medications–are abhorrent to a government that is supposed to be built on the separation of church and state.  Additionally, he demonstrated a volatile, aggressive demeanor during his hearing, as well as tendencies to lie under oath and to be a hyper-partisan purveyor of tinfoil hat conspiracy theories.  (See?  I didn’t even get into whether or not he actually raped or attempted to rape Dr. Ford 35 years ago.)

As you might be able to tell, when it comes to our personal and civil liberties, I have a really hard time biting my tongue.  While I realize that me ranting and raving isn’t likely to change the thought process of a die-hard on the opposite side of the fence…you just never know when someone might read something that makes sense, pause, and say, “Huh.  That’s a good point.”  The real problem is, over the past several months, I migrated most of my active social media activity into one Twitter account: my account loosely associated with my role as the Roadrunners PA guy.  I tried to limit how often I shared or posted fresh political content–but it was still too much.

This morning, I decided to return to my original Twitter account for political and more personal posts, and to leave the PA guy account for hockey-related tweets.  My first split on the day.  Now, I just need to make sure I don’t abandon either of my accounts.  I want to try and provide fresh content on both fronts throughout the season.  Oh, and I suppose my Facebook account will be a mixed bag still, since it’s not really directly or indirectly linked to my PA gig.

I fear I have buried the lead.  While this morning’s decision to divide my Twitter time between two accounts is a “split” of sorts, that was a minor part of my day–and week…

Late last summer, missing Micah, knowing my family was all continuing to suffer, I decided to take a risk–and suggest that we get a family dog.  The risk was not that my family would disagree–we have talked at length on many occasions about getting a family therapy dog.  The risk was to my health.  For years, I have been aware of pretty severe allergies to any pets that have hair or fur and produce dander.  I knew that certain dogs were considered “hypoallergenic,” so I hoped that we could get lucky and get a new, hypoallergenic family member from a local rescue shelter.

On our first visit to the shelter, we found a hyper little poodle mix.  Poodles, I had always been told, were hypoallergenic and typically did not shed (shedding is often a red flag for allergy problems).  Ellie was a beautiful little year-and-a-half old, mainly housebroken dog that seemed to immediate take to all three of us.  We did not leave without her.

As rescue dogs go, there wasn’t a lot of paperwork to be had–many more guesses than certainties.  Everyone seemed pretty sure that she was a Schnoodle (schnauzer/poodle mix), which should still be “okay” for my allergies and related asthma issues.  Good thing we initially decided to let Ellie sleep in the master bedroom with us, huh?

Over time, we noticed that my breathing issues were becoming worse.  From the occasional puff on my rescue inhaler to two or more breathing treatments on the nebulizer each week, my health was becoming more of an issue.  I still promised to do whatever I needed to do in order for Ellie to stay with us.  Trying to find some outside solutions, I got a series of appointments with my doctor and a pulmonologist.  After blood draws, breathing tests, and trying a couple different medications, the pulmonologist revealed that one of the blood tests was an allergy panel.  It turns out that my dog allergies are almost as bad as my cat allergies (which I always knew were pretty lethal–15 minutes in a house or apartment with a cat, and I was wheezing and grasping for my inhaler).  When I told the pulmonologist that I didn’t really see getting rid of Ellie as a possibility, he gave an understanding-but-disapproving nod, and said that I was pretty much already treating my allergies and asthma as aggressively as I could.  His last suggestion was to replace my bed linen and comforter, since dander really never comes out of those things, and to add an air purifier to the bedroom.

Yes, I tried those suggestions.  Then, just to maximize my breathing comfort, I sequestered myself strictly to my home office and bedroom for most of my waking time at home.  These were the two rooms that we did not allow Ellie to enter (for more than a passing few seconds).  That might have worked–at least to help me breathe a little easier–but it came at a cost: isolation.

I have real difficulty being alone.  I have always felt a need to have people around me.  This isn’t to say that I need to be the center of attention, just part of the conversation.  Unfortunately, my day job often does not provide me with that luxury.  As an appeals attorney, I spend most of my time alone in my office, reading transcripts, reviewing case files, researching case law, and drafting briefs.  Because I am in a division of one (and a half, technically–we have a second attorney that spends half her time doing appeals and the other half working juvenile delinquency cases), I don’t have many colleagues that I see as part of my daily routine.  Most days, I eat lunch alone at my desk (many lets-go-to-lunch caravans seem to miss my office door and my email).

So, coming home from that work environment to a house where I had to hide in my office or bedroom for most of the evening, was starting to really get to me.  Isolated at work, now isolated at home…  My mental health was starting to go south as quickly as my physical health.

Last week, however, changed everything.  After a long day, including spending a little more time than usual outside my office and bedroom, my breathing was worse than normal.  The recent pattern had become: breathe in dander/hair/fur, sinuses trapped it and caused major leakage into my lungs, and spend the rest of the evening coughing deeply to try and clear the gunk from my lungs.  The real problem is, when I cough deeply like that for a minute or so, I get light-headed and feel like I’m about to pass out.  During one of these coughing fits last week, I lost my balance and wound up on the floor.  After my wife and daughter observed that, the decision was taken from my hands: Eliie needed to go.

My family had already experience the loss of son and brother, Micah.  How bad could losing the family pet of a little more than a year be?  Incredibly dumb question, all around.  The past week has been challenging.  We have all gone through rough spots as we contemplated life without Ellie.  Last night, my wife decided that today was the day that she would take Ellie back to the shelter.  (We agreed, when we adopted her, that if we ever decided to give her up, the shelter would basically get first dibs.)

The house was very quiet this afternoon.  I was working from home, keeping an eye on my daughter.  My daughter spent most of the afternoon feeling very low, occasionally sobbing at the thought of Ellie leaving us for good before dinnertime arrived.  When my wife got home to take Ellie to the shelter, Niagara Falls all around.  She took Ellie by herself, as she knew that my daughter could not likely handle the actual separation at the shelter, and I would be looking at an evening of breathing treatments in the ER if I spent an hour in the shelter with all the other dogs and cats present.

We feel as though we’ve lost another family member.  Sure, we’ll appreciate not having to be awakened at 5:30am by Ellie scratching at our door to be walked, but we’ll miss the love and affection she gave us as a before-during-and-after thank you.  We won’t miss having to clean up her occasional accidents around the house, but we’ll miss her running to the garage door to welcome us home every time we came through the door.

I blame myself for all of this.  I know I shouldn’t, but I do.  I made the bright decision to try this–then I got just as attached as everyone else…and then I started getting sick.  Damn my allergies.  Damn my asthma.  Damn my decision to push the envelope, knowing that there was a strong chance this might eventually happen.

I miss Micah.  Now I miss Ellie too.  And this weekend?  My wife and daughter take off for five days in Chicago.  No sooner did we let go of Ellie so that, among other things, I wouldn’t be isolated in my own house, then I will spend five days alone and isolated with my family in Chicago.

Split.  My heart.  Split.