Lucy has been unwell. Two months already. The trouble hasn’t stopped since we moved home. And yes, that accident… The schism that eternally severed the rhythmic flow of unfolding, cutting away from that split second on the former ecology of Being. Weeks of nightmares, twitching and crying in her sleep, ensued. The pain, sadly, did not end with the physical healing of the amputation.
Multiple vet visits for one thing after another. Vomiting. Diarrhoea. Lethargy. Weight loss with excessive hunger. Blood tests. Body checks. The works. Nothing conclusive. I don’t know what else to do anymore. All I know is that she is in pain. Still.
And it breaks my heart.
She is my nonverbal child, a parallel embodied entity, whose life interweaves with mine. Her sentience has propelled me into dimensions of knowing, weaving rich tapestries of narratives that I would never have entered on my own. Yet, I am unable to help her resolve her pain.
Today… frantic discomfort. A reaction no doubt from the latest medication – a painkiller – what twisted irony, wasn’t it meant to relieve her of her pain? But that is what happens. I know all too well, after a lifelong tumultuous relationship with pharma myself.
Pacing. Panting. I run outside with her. Rain pelting down – and Lucy hates the rain – we were soaked to the skin, she and I, but there was a more desperate mission at hand. Round and round, back and forth, up and down we walked and walked and walked. She stopped to sniff, then went on. Stoop, strain, stoop, strain – nothing. Repeat all over again. Thunder. Lightning. Run, pant, run, run, run! Stop, stoop, strain again… Little slivers of excreta… Her whole body taught… I massage her even as she is in position… It seems to calm her a little. What else can I do?
We return home. But she is restless, inconsolable… and a few minutes later, we are running downstairs again. Rain… wet… we are splashing across huge puddles… Stoop, strain, stoop, strain… run, run, run… more slivers, more massaging… Two bizarre creatures in the pouring rain, no umbrella, no time for her raincoat even…
She is at last in bed. I massaged her and she fell asleep. But only for awhile. Yet another nightmare. Whimpering. Shaking. So much of this lately. Ever since… that day…
But my brave child of another species, unlike the human one, she does not throw her hands up in despair, she does not give up… she just keeps going… and so, too, must I.