ch.11, v.1-7 (nadja)

Should thy forelimb tether thee with pain
And steal from thee thy good perambulations--
Alas, take from thee even the hunger of thy belly
And stop up the lappings of the thirst of thy tongue--


Then cast off this malignant tubercle from the trunk of thy body
And cavort across the fields of thy territory upon three legs sturdy and fine.



Be thou tripod and be thou rich of life.


Exegesis and commentary
As some of you already know, Nadja lost a leg to cancer (osteosarcoma) last October. Unfortunately, it's a very aggressive cancer and has probably already metastasized, so tho' we are hoping to have her with us through the winter, we know we can't expect much more than that.

But the key thing is how much happier she is since the amputation: all September, she had been in such awful pain that she barely walked at all and Karen even had to start force-feeding her things like boiled chicken and scrambled eggs. At that point, we didn't have a diagnosis that made sense (she has arthritis, but this seemed awfully extreme for arthritis), and we were beginning to despair that her quality of life could be restored at all.

Then Amy Johnson, a friend and our vet (JP Animal Clinic), referred us to an osteo surgeon at all Angell, and he immediately diagnosed it as said osteosarcoma. We thought the recommended amputation seemed awfully drastic for an eleven-year-old dog that had about six months to live anyway, but it turned out just right: she is enjoying her walks, naps, and food, and the four of us are able to go on walks together. After those excruciating weeks in September and October, having the opportunity to make her happy and comfortable again, if even just for a few months, is totally worth it.


The special harness Karen uses to carry her up and down stairs.
She also has a giant stroller (her carriage) that we can use when she runs out of stamina on a walk--
but her strength improved week by week through October and November.

ch.7, v.1-24 (the sickness)

Quietness and lassitude gather round about our den,
For a sickness is upon my companion,
And tho' the nose of the human smells it not,
Still in their ways of perception they discover it,
And hereunto we retreat for the recuperation of she who has many days
Been to me comforter and physician.

She makes not the perambulation of daybreak nor that of eventide,
And, lo, the greenness upon her face is greater even than the greenness of usual.
I make my way upon soft and noiseless pads,
And tho' tempted mightily to draw her from the nest of pillows and of blankets
I resist these the callings of my anxiety,
Nay, and trouble neither Karen Who Is Tall.


BTW, my sweatshirt says "Roxy," not "Sexy."
This was not a sexy moment in my life. Not at all.

O what physic is in the power of this dog to proffer?
The dew claws of my feet will function not as opposable tarsals;
I cannot hold the vial of medicine,
Nor can I prepare the soup of the chicken
Without consuming it prematurely to my own satiation.

Yea, but with the laws of the den cast aside, my companion,
I can give to you this gift of canine knowing--
I augment the deepness of your sleep,
By bringing within the sanctuary of the human bed
The healing transcendence of the napping of the dog,
And so I shall be if not your physician
Then on and as your comforter.




Exegesis and Commentary
Frida knows so much better than I do, maybe than many of us do, her limitations and her strengths, tho' it is an unusual ability for her to control her anxiety and not claw at me for attention when events occur outside of our routine. But, like most dogs, she knows when I'm not well and respects that. She also knows, from past experience, that when I'm not well and I'm sleeping a lot, she gets the rare treat of coming up on the bed, which really is just as much for me as it is for her. So altho' we haven't generally allowed the dogs on our beds since we moved in together, Karen agreed to break the rules this time, and Frida brought her healing dog nap onto the bed with me. I have to share this odd thing I noticed: the picture I took of the view from the dog bed


had this line in it:

(I was reading Emma, just fyi.)

And also just fyi, I found a picture of my "physician" online. For those among you who think your doctor is attractive, I like to put this in the category of "my surgeon is more beauteous than your surgeon." Think your favorite medical professional can compete? Bring it on.


Frida's Auntie Julia observed that it's standard protocol to be at least a little infatuated with your surgeon, but I think this fine wielder of the scalpel must have made it easier than usual to comply with that imperative. Esp for those of us with a thing for attractive, capable women with a good sense of humor.