It’s not always welcome.
To say that I’ve been off balance lately is an understatement. I’m not necessarily centered on my best days. I’ve been less so these last weeks.
When Bolt took his turn Wednesday, I was snapped from one reality to a new one. The loss of Lula was such a source of inconceivable and irreconcilable pain. Nothing could resolve the grief.
Then Bolt went into this phase. It’s called Vestibular disease. There are two flavors, as far as I understand and I understand very little. But what I do understand is that the “central” version is of the brain, and the “peripheral” is of the inner ear, past the eardrum and in the ear canal. Bolt’s is of the latter.
When we found out what the specifics are, it provided a path towards recovery for our magnificent, old dog. Today is Friday, and while he’s obviously not his former self, he’s much improved. I was convinced Wednesday that he would be gone by now. So each minute is a gift. And I welcome each and everyone of them. At first, I didn’t understand the gift, and I wasn’t able to recognize the beauty. I wanted nothing to do with it. I was terrified by limited perception and ignorance.
Who knows how long we have? Nobody. I’m going moment by moment. Hopefully I’ll be humble enough to see the beauty of each.
