A Letter To My Service Dog

Dear Cleo,

       Now that I have you, I can not imagine life without you. I searched far and wide for you, for a very long time. I knew I wanted a service dog, but in no way did I expect you.  My love. My girly girl. My dear, sweet, stubborn, "miniature” Labrador Retriever. This letter is for you, and how you changed my life. 

       Five years before you were born, I started my search for a service dog. I emailed, and applied to almost every service dog organization on the North American continent. You won’t believe what they told me! "You can’t be blind and use a wheelchair". Well, obviously you can, because I am! One of them told me "We can’t place a service dog with you because it might be falsely construed as a guide dog". I couldn't understand what was so wrong about training a dog to meet my needs. I mean, really?! You can definitely see how God put you in my life with what happens next. 

       I had found this organization that I hadn’t looked into yet, and I asked Nana to print out their application while she was at work that day. She didn’t come home with the right application. She came home with the application from Canine Partners for Life (CPL), where you were born. It is divine work because after not hearing from them, I threw the application in the trash. Nearly three months later I received an email saying if I applied they would train a dog to meet my needs. I applied within a week, and got put on the active waiting list! I waited for yo for two years!

       While I was at school one day, I received an email. The email said something along the lines of, "do you still need help with transfers? We have a dog for you, but she’s not big enough to help you with transfers." I didn’t reallly need help with transfers anyways, so that could wait, because I wanted you! On the way home from school I called the whole wide world to tell them I was matched with you! I could not contain my excitement! In order to take you home, though, I had to spend three grueling weeks in Pennsylvania to train with you. 

       Those three weeks were hard, and at first I had no clue how to handle you. It was three weeks of training me how to work with and train you, while also learning the laws. You know all this though. You were there. What was your first impression of me? Did you think that you were just getting passed around to someone else, or did you know that you were coming home? Did you love me, quiet voice and all? One of my fears is that I would be too quiet for you to hear my commands, but look where we are now. I guess you loved me from the beginning, too. I remember the first night that you came home with me. I undressed you and you ran all over the hotel room, sniffing every inch with your "big" nose. Then came bed time when you jumped on the bed, attacking me with kisses and I was the happiest Valerie in the world, smiling ear to ear and laughing. That night you found your spot right next to me on the bed, and I wonder why we bought a dog bed because we didn’t really need one! When it was time to go home to California, we just ended up donating the bed to the CPL kennel. 

       Then we had to brave the airport, and the plane. What I remember about the way home is the flight attendant telling me, "I can tell that she’s a real service dog, because she hasn’t moved the entire flight." We were a newbie team, but you were still the real deal! Here’s the part where you changed my life. There are some moments. Some instances. Some memories, that I would like to share. 

       Remember our first Christmas? I wanted that picture with Santa so bad! It was Eve of Christmas Eve when I finally got it. Santa… he seemed a little taken aback that he was taking a picture with a dog. I digress. Santa was not the point. 

       Along with Santa, the whole Crisci family came to Christmas. In prior Christmases with the entire family, I would get fatigued and my pain would get out of control. I would stop participating, and then get upset that everyone didn’t stop with me. Cleo, Christmas of 2016,  I did not stop! You told me when I was in pain.  You told me when I needed to slow down. I had fun! I bonded with my family! I had you! All of those past christmases, I needed you. That Christmas was one of the most fun Christmases I’ve had in a long time!

       The celebration of Christmas is celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ. You’ve learned that in church, haven’t you? I hope you have, or else you took communion for nothing. You embarrassed me because it wasn’t very “Service Dog” of you. I remember that Great Nana took my juice and cracker like always. She set the juice down in the cup holder and then you reached your little lizard tongue up to have a drink. On a separate occasion, as I was trying to put the cracker in my mouth it fell to the floor.  “Leave it” was never your strong suit, so you grabbed it off the floor as soon as you got the chance. But boy do I digress, you funny funny dog. 

       For a long while, the whole family went to church. But as time went on, Nana and Papa stopped going and stopped taking me. Then you came!I started waking up at the crack of dawn to catch the paratransit bus to church. For a while, I didn’t really realize that why I felt comfortable doing this was because of you. I knew that you were there to tell me if I was in pain, to pick up something I dropped, and to lead me to the place I needed to go. The MTS bus had always been an option, but it had never been a safe and comfortable option until you!

       You bring me so much joy! Along with you, though, came this whole new family. It started by making friends with the other teams in our class, then it… just, kind of, happened. There’s this group on Facebook of CPL graduates. Did you know that?! Now, I have my best friend, Nicole, and your long distance boyfriend, Cole in Pennsylvania. Remember when they came to visit us all the way here in California? That was a long flight for them!

       So, I have my "family" on the east coast, but it started getting boring for us here in California. You need to play. You need to train. I need fellow service dog parents. So, as I’m sure you already know, I started a Facebook group to find our local "family". I found them! Now, we go on monthly training meet ups, and have play dates. I hope you enjoy them! You always seem to have a smile after. Our meet ups have also been in some far out places and you help be there independently. 

       So, Cleo. My love.  My girly girl. My dear, sweet, stubborn, little Labrador Retriever. You have brought me so much joy! God definitely brought you into my life. You have brought me so much independence! You have brought me so many new friends that I wouldn’t have met otherwise. You are quite vocal, but I understand. If I was as smart as you I’d want to speak my mind, too. You learn new tasks like it’s nothing. I’m pretty sure you are as intelligent as a four-year-old human. With your smarts and help we will sail through any and all rough patches. When you learn how read, let his letter be the first literature you set your eyes on. 

I love you to heaven and back!

Your Mommy,

Valerie Crisci

More Than a Caregiver

Yesterday, I told my friend, "I think I've moved to acceptance in the stages of grieving."  She seemed baffled, like grieving is only for those who have died, but it's not.  You can grieve over the loss of a loved one, the loss of an ability, separation from a friend... or in this case, a friend moving away. 

I needed a new caregiver; that's all I was expecting.  That day, a girl from Santee, only one year older than me, came walking through the front door.  She showed up before the one she was supposed to shadow.  She walked through, seeing what my routine was, with what seemed like no fear.  I like that willingness to try everything and see what happens.  Barbie Johnson says she faked it until she made it.  She did a damn well good job.  How was I supposed to know we would blossom into sisters?

The routine starts with a shower.  Barbie transfers me onto the shower chair and slides me into the shower.  Then, with Barbie sitting on the toilet seat (fully clothed), we would talk about anything and everything.  I told my whole life's story during those conversations - and it's a long story.  That blossoming occurred in less than a year.  Now I'm grieving because she is leaving for five months. 

 I rely and put my whole life on her.  But it's time she lives her own life for a while.  We will text and communicate, at least every other day!  She will be back!   She has to, because we're sisters now!

I Know This Puzzle

I know this body.  It has been mine for soon-to-be 19 years now.  This body has not functioned properly for almost my whole life.  I understand that it hides the problems happening, but that does not mean that something wrong is not going on.  That does not mean that I do not know what's happening.  I am not crazy and I am not a hypochondriac.
       When I say my body likes to hide what's going on, I am not kidding.  Let me tell you a story that explains what I mean to a tee.
       I have had two back surgeries.  A spinal fusion, and a revision to that spinal fusion.  A spinal fusion is a procedure where the surgeon uses titanium rods, screws, and bone grafts to correct severe scoliosis.  A revision surgery is when they have to go back in to correct a previous surgery.  My spine is fused from T-3 all the way down to my pelvis.  While fusing my spine they discovered a broken vertebrae that had not shown up on any preoperative X-rays; it was hiding.  After my recovery I started experiencing a sharp, stabbing pain in my hip every time I took a step.  I was also experiencing a dull pain whenever pressure was placed on my back, like washing my back while showering.  We did multiple X-rays which didn't show anything.  The pain was not fading or going away, so we did a CT scan which didn't show anything either.  Finally, my surgeon decided to perform a revision surgery.  He didn't know what the cause of the pain was or what he was looking for; he went in blind.  What he found shocked him.  The screw in my hip was completely stripped from its place, I had two large abscesses, and another broken vertebrae.  My body was hiding it all from the X-rays and CT scans, but I knew something was wrong.  I knew it was more than just pain, and, my surgeon listened to me.
       I've been called crazy too.  I went to a pulmonalogist for trouble breathing and she told me to go see a psychiatrist.  Turns out I have 37% lung function and restrictive lung disease.  I know my body!
       My body hides its problems, but I am not crazy or a hypochondriac.  I know my body better than most.  Believe me when I tell you something is wrong!  Believe me when I tell you that it's more than what you think!  My body is a puzzle, but I know this puzzle as it physically makes up me.

(Images used from google are not owned by me)

Find Your Inner Strength!

A week or so ago I sent my friend a picture of neurons on my nails.  This friend of mine, one of my best friends has epilepsy.  Her seizures are not well controlled and, at this time, she is helping me go through seizures of my own.  I put brain neurons on my fingernails to help me deal with anxiously awaiting the results of an ambulatory EEG.  Every symptom I am having, though, points to seizures.  My best friend's symptoms and mine match perfectly; we understand each other in an amazing way.
       After complementing me on my nails, she told me that my nails are an excellent example of why people call me strong.  She said, "Instead of always thinking of how seizures stop you from doing everything you want to do (not that it should)- you celebrate who you are, physical querks and all."  Saying that not everyone has that kind of inner strength and by having neurons painted on my nails, I am embracing who I am.  It seemed so trivial to me.  I mean, it's only nail art, right?  Wrong!
       I am exhausted, and scared, but apparently I do well at not showIng it.  I am told I live with a reason to smile, and I'm glad because I try my very best to do just that!  Everyday my service dog, Cleo, makes me smile, my cat showing his little attitude off makes me smile, my nail art makes me smile, and my best friend, Nicole, makes me smile!  Nicole said, "You still live with purpose. And that shows AMAZING inner strength.  You have drive to be a part of society.
There's a difference between acting on our fears and exhaustion.  Though you feel those things, you get out of bed and face the day."
       The lesson here is... figure out how to deal with the toughest of things.  Find something to smile about each day.  Something as simple as your animals or as big as achieving the greatest goal.  It is okay to not feel good, it is okay to be dained of energy, it is okay to be having a hard time, just try... and smile!  Find your inner strength!

What I Hear

Yes, there are good days and bad days.  Yes, some days I have more spoons than others.  To be brutally honest, though, everyday I feel like shit; it's just some days I feel like more shit.
       "Fake it till you make it."  That quote means a lot more to people who have chronic illnesses.  We feel like shit all the time, so faking is an art.  Trying our hardest to act like everyday is a good day.  Sometimes it's just not posible to fake; the day is too much of a bad day.  Our bodies feel too much like the life has been drained out of us.  So, please, don't mind me if I can't "fake it".
       "You look so good", is also a saying I hear too much.  The life tends to be drained out of me, I am always in pain, and more times than not, I can't breathe.  It is said with kindness, sincerity, and good intentions; I know.  I may look good on the outside, but it's usually not how I feel.
       "You aren't even trying", is something I heard from a friend in a class.  I started failing my class and kept asking my friends to help me pull through.  She said to me, "We are busy people and aren't able to drop everything to come tutor you. I'm not willing to help if you aren't even trying to complete the work. I get your sick, but it doesn't look like you want to pass."  I wanted to pass!  I am always doing my best and a lot of the time I am trying harder than my best.  I am sick so, the energy to physically complete the work or even have the energy to think, isn't always there.  I always want to do my best!  I always try harder than my hardest, and she did NOT understand!  Let's just say, I passed The Spoon Theory on for her to read and no longer consider her a friend.
       The comments I hear as someone with a chronic illness are hard pills to swallow.  I am not understood until you get to know me.  My story is a long one but in time, as trust is earned, you will hear it.  Ignorant sayings are a piece of the story.