Gus getting acupuncture. Dr. Fariello and I both believe that acupuncture has been helpful to Gus, he gets this holistic treatment once, and afterwards, he rests peacefully for hours. I believe it promotes digestion – as does meditation, says Dr. Fariello. Gus seems sensitive to the needles, then settles into a kind of dreamy and peaceful slate. I liked this photo of Gus as the needles are being removed.
We will continue this part of the treatment for him.
Today Gus and I went to see Dr. Susanne Fariello, our vet. We have been working together for several months now to try to understand exactly what we could do for Gus, who has the dread megaesophagus, as the vets call it, to see what we could for him.
Suzanne – Dr. Fariello – has been a way for a month, and this meeting was an important summing up and review to decide if there was anything else we could do for Gus, and whether or not Maria and I are comfortable with the way in which we will have to live with him.
I was looking forward to the meeting, I was eager to tell Dr. Fariello about my experiments with food, muzzles, sitting upright, regurgitation vomiting the prognosis for Gus’s life with us.
The meeting was always a turning point in my mind, we would either commit to living with Gus and this disease, or we would pursue a different path – finding another home for him, trying extraordinary new measures, or even putting him down if we couldn’t live with the drama of the chronically ill dog and all of the emotional, financial and other baggage that comes with that.
Dr. Fariello weighed Gus, examined him thoroughly, looked into his eyes, felt his stomach, listened to a detailed account of my nutritional experiments, and the details of his frequent spit-ups, diarrhea, regurgitations and gagging on bile. Every time Gus eats anything but his regular food, he suffers for it.
I am especially grateful to her for helping Gus and guiding us through this stage of the disease. We both know she has done everything she could do, in as gracious and warm a way as possible. She respects us and the decisions we make, and has been helpful in teaching me so much about megaesophagus. We’re going to continue Gus’s monthly acupuncture treatments, they seem to help.
I told Dr. Fariello about stopping all of the medications and changing his diet several times. She was surprised and impressed. I said his stool was good, he had trouble gaining weight no matter how much he eat, and there seemed to be a great deal of acid reflux. But not as much vomiting and regurgitation as before, not nearly enough.
She said she thought we had done a great job.
Megaesophagus is a trouble-maker, it causes all kinds of pain and discomfort for dogs, quite often malnutrition, vomiting, stomach and digestive disorders, and death. And he will eat absolutely anything he can find to eat.
We talked for over an hour, Dr. Fariello reviewed all of the records, performed some acupuncture, and then came the discussion I was waiting for? So where are we know? What else can we do? Was this as far as we could go?
She sat across from me and looked me in the eye.
“I have this feeling,” I said ” both good and sad, “that this is as far as we can go? Is that right?”
She asked me if Maria and I could live with where we were now with Gus. Were we okay with it?
I said we were.
“Good,” she said, “because you took the words right out of my mouth. This is as good as it gets, ” she said.
We both agreed that we had tried everything we know to try. “I have nothing to offer you that you haven’t tried or done. There is no cure for megaesophagus, as you know. It is likely to get worse, and pneumonia and malnutrition are always a risk, and we have no tools to offer you or Gus.”
She didn’t have to repeat what she said before. Gus will not have full and healthy life. Once or twice a day, he spits up or gags. Once or twice a day, we clean it up. It is much better than before, and is stable for now.
I asked how much pain and suffering Gus was going to be feeling, and she said she didn’t know. With megaesophagus, dogs are often uncomfortable, Gus seems to be holding his own, but we don’t even know what causes the disease, let alone what can cure it.
I told her that Maria and I were in a place of love and acceptance with Gus, within limits. We weren’t going to devote our lives to caring for him, we would not accept interference with our work or way of life. We would not go into debt for him, or take him to expensive specialists.
We have already made a number of changes in our routine and our schedule, and Gus is adaptable and co-operative. Gus is a major presence in our home and life now, I can’t quite remember a time without him.
We do love him and are willing to accept the difficulties of the disease, and the challenges it presented to us, at least up to a point. I felt some sadness at this, for Gus’s sake. I know he is often uncomfortable, spitting up acidic matter so often. I can see it makes him uncomfortable.
I am sorry he has a tough life a head of him. He is a good hearted, fun-loving guy. I just think he deserved better as much as he loves life, but illness doesn’t only choose the unworthy.
Megaesophagus is not curable, there is no Disney ending ahead of us, no miracle cures on the horizon. Nor more magic nutritional potions. This is as good as it gets. This is the best we can do.
So it’s time to practice radical acceptance – this is life – and move ahead. This is no longer a crisis or emergency, This is now our life and his life. We embrace it and take responsibility for it. I am a fighter, and I hate to stand down. But we all need to do that at this point, I see that clearly.
And we will make the best of it. Gus has enriched our lives and taught me (Maria can speak for herself) patience, love and acceptance of life as it is, not only as we would wish it to be.
Grace is about dealing with suffering and disappointment, I don’t seek a perfect life, I never asked for one, I don’t want one, it sounds empty and surreal to me. I am not shocked by death and illness, my therapy work has taught me that much.
I love life in all of its richness and glory, ups and downs, heat and cold, light and dark. This is the foundation of a meaningful life. So, forward with Gus. This is as good as it gets, they say, but I have a hunch it may get better still, at least for awhile.
After the killings in Parkland, Florida, Maria took a heavy metal pellet gun out of our kitchen drawer – it was in the house when we moved in, we have never used it. She had, as many of us did, powerful feelings about the guns and about the children who died, and she unraveled a baby blanket and crocheted the gun, and attached them with a thread.
She created this 4 x 6 postcard and put it up for sale today. A portion of the proceeds will go to support the students in Parkland, Florida.
I thought the cord was meant to suggest an umbilical cord, she said it was meant to connect the gun with gun violence that takes 30,000 lives a year in America, and in any other context, would urgently, if not desperately, dominate the national political discussion.
We are a broken country if we can’t do something about this. This is one step.
It was, I think, her way of supporting the amazing students from the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, many of them now victims again, of death threats and conspiracy theorists and trolls, all the new thugs in American life.
They are showing us how be moral and strong. What are we and who are we if we cannot come together and protect our children?
Maria said her hands can sometimes express her feelings better than her head. The context her is strong, guns and very innocent children, horrifically tied together. The notecards are $12 for a pack of $8. She wanted to price them cheaply so that people, especially young people, could afford to buy them.
They are for sale only on her new Etsy shop. You can read about them on her blog. As I mentioned above, a portion of the proceeds from the postcard sales will go to the student survivors in Parkland and their crusade for common sense gun control.
She can speak for herself, and does on the site, but her wish is for these cards to circulate among people who have long ago run out of words and despaired of argument. You can see them here.
Warning: There is material in that piece that might be construed as humor. For those of you who no longer recall what that is, you may look here.
I called a meeting of the Bedlam Farm Animals Association today.
They were up in arms about reports that I had hidden the fact that I had an affair with the film star Stormy Daniels a few years ago, and was trying to hide the fact. And they demanded to know if I had hidden Maria away somewhere to keep her quiet and from trashing me on her blog.
I told them flat out and without reservation, that contrary to social media and other reports, I did NOT have an affair with that woman, Stormy Daniels! Nor have I initiated, signed, or participated in any kind of “Hush Agreement!”
That is “fake news,” I said, puffing myself up and standing on the other side of the gate. I knew animals had great intuition, they can smell lies and nervousness, and so, I was….well…nervous.
The animals were agitated, baaahing and braying with curiosity and even outrage. There are a lot of tough women on Bedlam Farm. They don’t generally like men. Lulu was the first to speak up.
“Why are you denying something so obviously true?,” she asked me, breathing contempt through the snowfall. She said the Hysteria website said that I sent Red on a secret mission to buy off Stormy with a rum barrel attached around his neck stuffed with thousands of dollars in royalty checks! Is this true?,” she demanded.
Lulu has always had a mind of her own.
“Furthermore,” demanded Zelda, who can also be quite tough, “we hear that you not only had an affair with this person – you were said to have met her at a wool festival while Red was demonstrating some sheepherding, and you were skirting the wool. And that this affair happened at a $50 motel in Troy, N.Y., called the Low Road.”
“What?, sneered Liam, our petulant wether, “no bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel?”
Fanny sort of winked. “You bad boy, you, you seem like such a wuss!!”
I held up my arms and called for silence. Most of the sheep were already silent, but that is typical of sheep. in fact, that’s why they are sheep. I know I could handle this, even though the scandal seemed to be getting out of hand. After all, these are just animals, yes? But I was anxious, looking out at this crowd.
Suzy chimed in, “is is true that you are trying silence Stormy and keep her from telling the story of your relationship, something you never disclosed on your so-called “open” blog?”
Flo the Barn Cat hissed.
“Does this explain why you have not been coming out to the pasture with Maria the past two weeks? Is she pissed off? Is she protesting your infidelity by making conventional potholders? She gave us some story about your having pneumonia, the poor girl is shoveling snow from dawn to dusk. You look pretty healthy to me. We read your blog every day and you seem to have been gassing off as usual. What’s the real story?,” she demanded. “What have you done with Maria? Is she leaving you? Are you trying to silence her too?”
Gus barked and came up to the fence. “So, tell us what she was like, eh?” He winked at me, paused to eat some rabbit pellets, threw up, and jumped up on the fence post, “Are those breasts real?” he asked.”Dish!”
I blushed, and was embarrassed. “You deserve to be on me.too for that,” I said, sternly. “I don’t judge women by the size of their breasts. I will say that you would love it up there, I can see you taking a nap there, it would be soft and warm I imagine, just like you like. Oh, I can picture you dozing up there, you flirt, you rascal…”
It got worse before it got better. In fact, it never did get better. Minnie stood up on her three legs, speaking up, which she rarely did. “Are the media reports true? Were you listed on a “Hush Agreement” as JON D.Katz a/k/a MANDINGO HUNG?
I got a little flustered, “I don’t have to argue with a fake barn cat. You probably don’t even exist!: But I got no laughs. Can I help the fact that so many women consider me a sex slave? What can you do?
I remembered where I was, and recovered, I said this kind of talk – Gus, etc. – was inappropriate, I never colluded, physically or mentally, with Stormy Daniels. Lulu was shaking her head in disgust, at both of us. Zelda would almost certainly knock me over later.
“Oh,” Red chimed in, “Jon may be crazy and difficult at times, and lie through his teeth, but he is just a rebel trying to break up the Big State…he should tell you about the time at the Low Road…”
I held up my hand, “okay, Big Boy!, thanks..take it easy…down!” Red lay down.
“What about Red?,” asked Fanny. “Did he carry those royalty checks to Stormy?”
Red stood up and faced down the donkeys and the sheep. “First of all,” he said, ” it is a great privilege to be Jon’s herding dog and therapy dog. I admire him and support him in every possible way. I have never suggested that Muslim-Americans be transported to Mars, or that I have to right to sniff the private parts of any women I wish, being a famous dog gets you that, sometimes…and if I did say any of those things, I shouldn’t have and didn’t really mean them, mostly…”
I gave him a warning glance, but he went on…”I did bring an empty barrel of rum to Stormy Daniels, but I cannot discuss the contents, Jon knew nothing about it, it was something I did on my own, and I don’t wish to talk about it. Jon is perfect he would never do anything wrong. I will love him to the end, he may be the greatest writer who ever lived and it is a privilege to breathe the air he breathes…”
(I whispered “easy,” to him, “don’t over due it,” and he looked stricken. “Did I fall you?, he murmured. “No,” i whispered back, you made your point.”
Lulu spoke up: “We can hear you! We are donkeys! Duh! We hear everything.”
Thanks, Red, I said, regaining my composure, ” you are nothing but loyal, and that is important to me. I wish to say something else, the idea that I could pay off someone like Stormy Daniels in royalty checks to buy her silence is just ludicrous. “And I can prove it.”
I took out the royalty statements my agent sends me each February for tax purposes, and I held it up for all the animals to see for themselves.
Suzy’s fur almost turned white, there were gasps of shock and horror.”Lord,” said Lulu, “will we have enough hay for the winter?”
“Yes,” I said,” I will always take care of you.” This, I thought smugly, was real, heartwarming news. Why didn’t they write that? Once, I believed the animals would support me if I murdered somebody on Main Street. Maybe not any more.
“So,” asked Fate, her blue eye shining brightly, as she turned towards Red and asked quickly, “Red, what was in the barrel you brought to Stormy Daniels?”
Before I could stop him – Fate is too smart for her own good – Red, who is without guile, blurted out, “oh, he filled the drum with old glowing reviews of books he wrote years ago when he was a New York TImes Bestseller. That’s when she broke it off, I think she was expecting money, or at least a weekly appearance on the blog.”
“Red,” I shouted quickly, “Come Bye!” and he took off like a rocket and went on one of his giant outruns towards Vermont. He’d be back in a half hour or so.
One last question from Zelda, who was looking more and more disgusted with each passing minute. “Is it true that you are so dumb that you forgot to sign your own “Hush Agreement”, and Stormy is now suing you to speak openly about your affair? What mountaintop will you run to then?”
I said that was enough questions. I DENY EVERYTHING!,” I shouted. “I DID NOT HAVE AN AFFAIR WITH THAT WOMAN!”, I said as forcefully as I could and turned walk back to the farmhouse, derisive hee-haws and baaaaahs and heard the cheers: “Free Stormy!, Free Maria! Free Stormy! Free Maria! Free Stormy!”
__
Brief note, end of humor, sort of. I have been reading about Stormy Daniels a lot, I love this story, I eat up every word. I like Stormy Daniels. She brightens every single of my days. I believe that is honest and direct about who she is, an ethical working woman trying to make her way. She will not be bullied or intimidated. She has a right to tell her story, especially the part I am most living for, when she spanks Donald J. Trump/a.k.a. David Dennison on his bare rump with a magazine in a bungalow at the very posh Beverly Hills Hotel. Is this my business? No, absolutely not.
Soon, there will be no more need for fiction, no writer could make this up. I suggest that Stormy just go and post to me.too. That is working for many women.
When refugees come to America, they have no time or chance to bring their possessions. They are relocated into small apartments and need just about everything that families need, from food to clothes to laundry baskets, silverware, soap and bowls.
The RISSE Wish List is addressing some of those needs today.
Some of those items are on the RISSE Amazon Wish List this morning, they range from $17 laundry baskets, recycling baskets to a $500 storage trash system for The RISSE school. There are only three items on the list now, I’m tempted to go for the laundry basket.
This is a critical time for the RISSE Soccer team, we are hoping to go to a Powell House retreat in May, play in a two month State Indoor Tournament starting this weekend, and perhaps look for an inexpensive week-long camp in the summer. It might be because of the storms, but I am still in need of $500 to $600 for the Powell House retreat for the soccer kids.
In addition, the Girl’s Basketball Team is cranking up, Wicked Smart Apparel is donating the uniforms, we will be looking to buy sneakers and other necessary equipment and league fees. There are no parents to help with this funding, either we do it or they can’t play.
I can’t say to the penny, but I think we have between $1,100 and $1,300 out of the $2,100 we need. I’ve donated $500 of my own money, I paid a $600 deposit, the rest of the funds are not due for a month. It’s confusing for me, because the mail has been so disrupted. It will sort itself out.
In a sense, it’s like a chess game that never ends.
I’m assuming from my messages and e-mail that there is more money on the way, but the Post Office says mail has been delayed from everywhere to here. We are snowbound. I’ll have a better idea tomorrow. They don’t expect to catch up until Saturday, or even Monday, depending on the weather.
If you wish, you can donate to the Powell House Retreat by sending donations to me at Jon Katz, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816, or via Paypal, [email protected]. Please mark your contributions “Powell House” or “Refugee Fund,” thanks.
This is going to be a wonderful year, Army Of Good wise.
If I’m estimating wrong and there is an overage, I’ll apply it to the refugee fund and share the details, of course.
You can check out today’s Wish List here.
