This essay was meant to be the final submission and a reflection of the 16 week writing program, “Day One: The Parkinson’s Prison and the Hero’s Journey to Escape! The first two paragraphs and the last two refer to aspects of the writing program. (My family’s names have been changed for the sake of their privacy.)

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I started thinking about what I would write for this reflection as soon as I turned in my last piece of writing. But whatever thoughts or ideas I had flew out of my mind when my dog, Daisy, died suddenly in the early morning hours of December 4. So this is not a reflection of the past 16 weeks of writing. It is the story of what happened to Daisy so unexpectedly, just one day after her 17th birthday.

I think that the way I am handling this loss may be testament to how the writing changed me and aided me in handling my emotions. Especially now when I had returned to my “Ordinary Life” renewed and looking forward to exploring all the other roads I would travel. 

But I was ripped out of my new, calm life on Sunday night at 11pm. If you’ve seen “Loki ” on Disney+, it felt like I was time-slipping. For those who have not seen “Loki ”, he lost complete control of his ability to remain in any timeline for very long. When he “slipped” to another time, he looked like his skin, his clothes and body were being rapidly stretched and pulled, then ZAP, he was in a new time and place, feeling disoriented and lost. That is what I felt was happening to me. 

This is what happened. The story may be long, but every word is necessary.

Jon and I were in the bedroom. He was lying on the bed watching TV, while I was putting away some clothes. At about 11pm, we heard a series of loud thumps elsewhere in the house. I walked out of the bedroom to investigate. Halfway down the hallway I heard my son, Daniel, getting some food in the kitchen. I saw his bedroom door was open. This is also the door to the basement. I shouted out, “Oh shit! Did Daisy fall down the steps?”. Daniel came around and ran down the steps. She was up on her own and moving. What a relief! 

This would be the third time she’s taken a tumble down the steps around our house in the last year. We have been very careful to not leave doors open because Daisy could not navigate the steps anymore. She had become pretty much blind with severe cataracts. She was also mostly deaf. It’s like echo-location using those senses together. She had lost both, so you can imagine how scary and dangerous her world could have become. But she knew her way around the main level of the house. Where to eat, where to take naps, where to find me at my desk or on the couch, where to go when it was bedtime, and where to do her business.

About 10 minutes after my son brought Daisy upstairs, and to her bed on the floor in the bedroom, she got up to walk out of the room, then just stopped. She looked a bit dazed. We figured she might be dizzy from the fall and might have hit her head. Surely, she’d be fine in the morning. She recovered fine after the other falls.
She finally settled down in her bed. Jon went back out to the living room and I got into bed, ready to sleep. I dozed off and Daisy went back to the living room. Jon said she was walking into corners and getting stuck. He said she couldn’t turn her body around. He brought her back to the bedroom and I was awake again. She sat on her bed and I laid on my right side so I could see Daisy and watch her while I fell asleep again. I had barely drifted off after just a few minutes when I was awakened by Daisy rustling in her bed. She was rotating her body as dogs do to get that perfect spot. She was having trouble turning her back half around. I reached over and helped her make that landing. It was quiet for just a couple of minutes, then she started howling and her body contorted, looking like a pipe cleaner dog with her legs all splayed out and her head and neck stretched so far back her nose was almost touching her back. I leapt out of bed to hold her. She was very rigid. I cradled her head and stroked her to try to calm her down. She kept escalating. I yelled for Jon. When he came into the bedroom he also tried to calm her and ease her out of being so stiff. We quickly surmised that she must have gotten a concussion when she fell down the steps. We decided she also must be having a seizure and we needed to take her to the Emergency Vet. It was now about midnight. We took turns holding her while throwing on some clothes. I also decided to wake the kids and tell them that they should come with us because I wasn’t sure if this was going to be a one way trip for Daisy.
Annette, my daughter, got ready quickly, Daniel said he would stay home, then thankfully changed his mind and joined us just before we pulled out of the driveway. I drove and Alan carried Daisy all wrapped up in her favorite blanket. It’s a sage green polar fleece material, very soft.

The Emergency Vet is only about a 10 minute drive from our house. Annette had the forethought to call the Vet from the car and let them know we were coming. This was so smart and helpful. When we arrived they whisked Daisy in and I quickly signed an authorization for them to start treating her. It was somewhere between 12:00 – 12:30 am. The Veterinarian quickly came to ask us what happened to Daisy so he could better assess her. We relayed the story. He then went back to examine her further. About 15 minutes later, maybe less, he returned to let us know there was definitely some brain trauma.  I knew that was coming, but when I heard it I couldn’t help thinking that Daniel must feel horrible because he left the door open. I did not want him to feel bad. I looked at him and could see he was stiff with worry. I offered that he probably closed it enough and reminded him that Daisy was an expert at nosing doors open.
The Vet then launched into telling us his recommendation for hospitalization overnight until they could get a neurologist to examine her. We agreed that he could make those arrangements, so he went to gather the info for us and kept monitoring Daisy. Daisy was still intermittently howling and crying. That was very hard to hear. Now it was a little longer before the vet came to see us again.  I think it was around 1:00 – 1:30 am. This time he said she was having a hard time getting oxygen into her bloodstream, so they did a sonogram to investigate and found a large, bleeding mass on her spleen. He said this was the biggest reason for her quickly deteriorating condition. The fall and concussion were secondary. That’s when it felt like the floor fell out from under me and all the walls in the room crumbled. I felt like I was suddenly outside in some strong wind and someone was yelling at me through that howling wind,but I couldn’t hear them. I barely heard what the Vet was saying. In fact, I wanted to just cut him off. He was doing what he is supposed to do…give us all the options. But I knew it was over. Especially when he said, “I’m afraid that her prognosis is grave.” So I interrupted him and said, “It’s okay. We talked about this while you were in the back and agreed that we need to let her go if things are that bad.”
The Vet then started to explain the process of euthanization. No tears yet, but I looked at my kids faces, then to Jere, then back to the Vet. We were all in a state of shock. The Vet then left to prepare things for the procedure. The Vet Assistant came to settle us into the “Family room” where the procedure would take place. It was decorated thoughtfully with big comfortable chairs and cushions. Tissue boxes on the side table, and a wastebasket already partially filled with the previous family’s tear-filled and discarded tissues.

They rolled Daisy in on an examination table. She was laying on her left side and had two catheters in her front right leg. She was in a coma, barely responsive. Not moving, but sensed when we touched her. A Hospital blanket and the blanket we brought her in were draped over her body. The soft fleece sweater she was wearing had been taken off and was folded and placed next to her. The Vet and Vet Assistant told us we could take as much time as we needed to say goodbye then showed us the “doorbell” button we would push to let them know we’re ready to proceed.
We surrounded the table. We all started gently petting her. I touched her head and stroked her ear. I immediately thought of getting a clipping of her long hair. Jon had some small scissors. We took a little from her ear and from her tail. I tucked the treasure into a pamphlet, folded it and stuck it in my pocket.

At this point I lost my awareness of the rest of my family. I started kissing Daisy on her sweet little head and stroking her neck as we exchanged what Annette and I call “cuddly” noises. Since she was a puppy, Daisy and I would basically put our foreheads together and start making low rumbling noises back and forth. It is a sound that mother dogs and puppies exchange to say, ”You’re safe, I’ve got you.” So there, in her last moments of life she was still with me. I started crying inconsolably. I stepped back so Annette, Daniel, and Jon could say their goodbyes. Daniel and Daisy had a very special, caring bond. He did not want to be in the room for the procedure, so he gave Daisy one last pet then stepped out and Jon accompanied him to provide support. I could not pull my face away from Daisy’s. Annette asked if I was ready. I don’t remember my response, but it was then that she pushed the doorbell to let the staff know we were ready.
The Vet stepped in and again explained that the first injection would relax her and the second injection would be the euthanasia medicine. I nodded acknowledgement then put my right hand on her chest and again buried my face in hers. I peaked out to see the first medicine go in. She uttered one last cuddle noise. Then I saw the pink euthanasia liquid go in. I felt her breathing slow to stop and the sudden absence of her heartbeat. The Vet then listened to her chest with his stethoscope to confirm that she had passed. It was about 2:00 am. The Vet then left the room, again saying we could stay with her as long as we needed and to push the doorbell when we were ready for them to take her to “aftercare”. She’d be prepared for cremation.  

Now I was draped over Daisy like her blanket and wailing. It all happened so quickly, I couldn’t comprehend the situation. Annette, also crying, but more in shock, tried to nudge me to let go so they could take her. I said she would have to get Jon to pull me out of there. And he did really have to pull me away. The Vet Assistant came to take Daisy out of the room. Even though she was gone, her eyes still looked at me so sweetly. I held a gaze with her as she was slowly rolled away.

We got home about 3:00 am. In less than 4 hours my seemingly healthy 17 year old pup was gone. This was a horrific event but I can see that it was actually a blessing in disguise that all this happened so quickly. She would not have to linger and suffer.

This loss has me feeling the deepest grief I have ever experienced. I am crying out sporadically and am not able to control this grief. However, 16 weeks of writing about my feelings has given me the strength and knowhow to handle feelings out of control. The grief is okay. I mean, it’s awful to feel, but it’s healthy. All the feelings I experienced in my hero’s journey are amazingly still in check. Yesterday and today, as I grieved, I also tried to keep busy, distracted. I was afraid of getting depressed or that apathy would creep back in. But, you know what? “Apathetic Annie” did come around. She made a sympathy call this morning. I acknowledged her but didn’t let her through the door. I sent her away. 

So, the most valuable reflection I can share about the Day One program for me is that what I learned on my hero’s journey stuck! The timing of this journey’s end is so serendipitous and I’m grateful to have these lessons. They will accompany me on the new journey I now must take. I have to work through the grief I am bearing. 

Someone asked me why I was writing and what I got from it. Of course, I answered it was for my mental health. But it’s also for my family and our relationships with each other. Now, it is going to help me reflect on Daisy’s life. I’m going to dedicate my future writing to her. I don’t think I talked about her in any of my hero’s journey writing. I should have. She was always with me.