When you live with an elderly or terminally ill dog, you find yourself
counting time in interesting ways. Some are more
“normal” than others, some are more fun, some bore your friends to near-madness
(but it is fun watching them pretend to be interested), and some are just ridiculous.
But no matter how ordinary or how far removed from normal ways of tracking
time, all have to do with how far you and your elder companion have come, or
how much further you may yet go.
If you have followed this blog or have spoken to me about Bailey, you
are already familiar with some of the more typical ways that I have counted
time since learning of her diagnosis. I originally counted it in relation to
her prognosis of “most likely four-to-six weeks”, “maybe two months” or “an
outside chance of three months, but you should not expect that.” Once Bailey
outlived all of these expectations, I began counting the months since her
diagnosis, the number of seasons she greeted, and the number of events-that-were-not-supposed-to-be.
I also began counting down the number of weeks or months until future events or
goals that I had created for no real reason other than to have some goals. And
I sometimes joked about her being “x months past dead” (her current age is 8
months past dead).
These manners of counting time are fairly normal, however, in that they
all use measures typically associated with time—days, weeks and months. But I
also found myself counting time in less traditional ways. When given an end
date and then going far beyond it, but while always acutely aware of the real,
final end date that grows nearer and nearer, you fall on many new measures of
time—ones that typically have nothing to do with time, itself. Using some of
these measures, the current time is…
- 130 pounds of kibble past diagnosis
- 14 medication refills past diagnosis (filled
every three weeks)
- 1 unexpected 6-month elder-care check-up past diagnosis, and 1/6th to the next one
- 3 broken promises of no more baths past diagnosis (and a 4th one coming very soon—sorry, Bailey)
- An unthinkable number of treats past diagnosis, resulting in...
- 9 additional pounds past diagnosis
Since Bailey’s diagnosis, and without trying, so many mundane events
became ways of counting time. But one surpassed all others as my favorite, both
because of how firm a marker it is, as well as because of how absurd it is.
The current time is: 840 poops past
diagnosis.
That’s right—while you count hours and minutes, I count poops! No, I
have not gone mad—I have not counted each and every turd Bailey has dumped for
the last 10 months (and I definitely have not weighed, measured or otherwise
evaluated them any further than every dog owner does). But, as circumstance
would have it, I am able to estimate with a fairly high level of accuracy, the
number of poops Bailey has produced since her diagnosis.
Two days after Bailey was diagnosed I received a shipment of poop bags
that I had ordered two days before the diagnosis.
That is 60 rolls. That is 900
bags. And that is absurd, given that I was just told to expect Bailey to live
no more than 6 weeks. Absurd!
But, here is what remains of those bags:
60 bags left. Sure, I gave 3 or 4 rolls away, but I also borrowed many
bags during the last 10 months. And (dare I admit it), I may have failed to
recover a turd or two, whether unintentionally or not. Still, no matter how you
count, what once seemed like an absurd order has now proven to be nothing other
than bargain shopping.
So join me in raising a bag to toast 840 poops passed, to hail the next
60 dumps to which Bailey is currently committed, and to cheer for many more turds
to come. And as time moves on and Bailey is currently standing at the door
anxiously, I think the time is now 841 poops past diagnosis.
Good girl, Bailey.
