Benefits of owning 'the beast'

(Hello there. I trust you had a good weekend.

I want to share with you this solid New York Times article about corticosteroids, the synthetic versions of the natural chemicals produced by the adrenal glands. Prednisone is the corticosteroid I am taking to manage my sarcoidosis symptoms. The drug works, but the side effects can be as bad as “cure."

And now, a long overdue ode to a family member assisting me in my healing…)

The beast is eating my foot.

Well, more like…a soft gnawing…a gumming. He could crush my left foot if he wanted, but his tail is wagging so hard that I know he never thinks that way.

He just wants me to keep roughhousing with him, so I do. Until he turns on his back and I can rub his belly.

He is Tobie, my family’s Golden Retriever. Tobie plays a big role in my recovery from sarcoidosis.

Pharmaceuticals control the sarcoidosis that tries to ravage my heart and lungs. My family keeps my spirits buoyant. Tobie just makes me warm inside.

Things are looking up, but these are still stressful times. The dog, along with writing and exercise, help reduce stress. Much has been written on the benefits of owning a dog or cat.

I hear the “thump, thump, thump” of his tail against the floor in my parents’ bedroom when I wake up in the morning. He just lays there and beats the carpeted floor with his tail, letting everyone know that I am up and that he is happy I am here. He brings me his favorite squeak toy. He loves me to take his leash off after we do a round in the park. I then fold it and place it in his mouth so he can carry it home.

Tobie actually smiles a crooked grin when he plays. My mom half-jokes that he might have had a micro stroke. Could be. The crocked grin comes from somewhere.

Tobie is seven years old. He is the color of late autumn leaves and he is developing a white mask. I am noticing more and more white hair in his fur. He is getting up there, so I enjoy time with Tobie and am thankful my parents added him to the family.

At night, I like to find quiet moments where it is just the two of us. I cradle his head in the palms of my hands and message his golden face until he breaks into that crooked grin.

Then he farts. Whoa! I'm just gonna go to bed.

Saying yes to walking opens up possibilities

(Hi, readers. Enjoy the blog. And tune in Friday for a special announcement. And remember to consult with your doctor before exercising to see what routine might be right for you. Enjoy and peace.)

Every drug I take in my battle against sacroidosis warns that it makes you drowsy or dizzy. I admit that since April, five months into this pharmaceutical regiment, I have been tired and listless. I just want to lie down, pull the blankets over my head and sleep until…whenever. Just sleep.

Instead, I just say yes.

No, silly, not to drugs and certainly not to the side affects of prednisone, methotrexate, Carvedilol, hydralazine , lisinopril and the others.

I say yes to movement, in this case walking. When I do not feel like moving, I move. And when asked to do something physical, I do it.

I am in Lakewood, N.J. with my parents. It took 14 hours to drive here. The morning after the drive, I was beat. Almost beyond exhausted. My dad had energy and invited me to join in on a routine: walking the dog. It is a two- to three-mile walk through a wooded area. Hills, mud, dirt. Challenging for someone who is re-learning how to breathe.

Wanna come? He asked.

No, I admitted to myself. But I said yes as soon as I was asked, jumped up and we hit the trail.

And it was great. Another bonding moment with my dad and the family dog, Tobie, a golden retriever. We walked, talked, laughed. I realized that while I was winded – country walkin’ is sure more challenging than city walkin! – I was going to be better off for it.

Later that day, my mom got home and we walked 1-1/2 miles with Tobie (This dog gets a serious workout. He has legs of steel!). That was a great bonding moment, too.

I took ill in mid-March in Chicago and spent 10 days in the hospital. After I was released, two friends of mine who were also co-workers, Megan Cottrell and Felicia Yonter, made me move. I told them the drugs made me listless, so they had me take baby steps. Let’s walk two blocks to the coffee shop. Megan would say. Let’s take Guinness – the Shepard-mix that belongs to Felicia and her finance, Steve Barrett – for a quick walk.

Baby steps, but always moving. Because the small, unsteady steps can develop into a strong confident stride. Evidence that one is getting better. Stronger.

I say yes to movement because I want to go forward and not backward.

Waning Moon (face)?

People this week are telling me that moon face (the swelling and roundness of the face caused by long-term prednisone use) might is shrinking. Really, I can’t tell. It looks like a big, brown full moon to me…but thank you. I remain hopeful that the condition will soon abate because my docs are reducing the amount of the corticosteroid.

We’ll see how things go.

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