Dena and I have been cautiously looking around for puppies lately. We had a bad experience with a dog from a pet store, so we looked at alternative sources. We weren’t concerned about getting a “purebred” pup. We just wanted a puppy with a clean slate, so to speak. Tabula Rasa, doggie-style. So our journey began.
We visited the local animal shelters, but had concerns about getting an older dog that has already learned habits that may be difficult if not impossible to reverse. We had already ruled out pet stores, so that left private sources. Ideally, we wanted a puppy from a farm. The hope with a farm pup is that it’s been around other animals and should behave well with our cats. We drove around the country watching for signs, checked the local paper, etc. Our luck broke Saturday night when Dena found an ad online advertising blue heeler/border collie mix puppies. If you’ve ever tried to get a puppy from a newspaper ad, you learn one thing: call quickly because they go quickly. An elderly man answered, and told me they had one left. He was gratious enough to entertain us that night. We jumped in the car and make the drive, about 70 miles, to the small down of Odell. I knew it was a good sign when he led us down to his barn. We walked through the barn, past several occupied horse stalls, and our host stopped at the last stall and opened the door. He pulled the door open and out ran this little pup, ignoring a wandering cat, and leapt into our arms. She stole our hearts right then and there.

We made the trek back home, making a few stops to find an open store that sold a leash, collar and other necessities. Sunday was another eventful day. We visited family and went to a parade celebrating the 150th anniversary of Rochelle, IL (my “home town”, I suppose). Our new pup, Dora, sat with us during the parade, watching the procession without a peep. She even seems to enjoy riding in the car. Best of all, she has a very non-aggressive approach with the cats. She sniffed at them a little, but has otherwise given them their space. My biggest fear was introducing a puppy into the house and alienating the cats, but it looks like those fears are proved baseless.

I’m rambling a bit now, but I have a sleeping puppy drooling on my arm and it’s proving to be a slight distraction. Here is a picture of Dora, taken just after we got her home Saturday night. I’ll eventually get a photo gallery setup for her. I suspect she’ll be very photogenic.

I’m finally starting to feel like things are getting back to normal. I don’t feel great, but well enough. It’s a day to day sort of thing, but at least each days gets a little better than the last.

I’ve picked up my pen and started writing again. I’ve given up on having submissions ready for the Van Helsing anthology or the ISFiC Writers Contest. As much as these interest me, the events of the past few months have killed my productivity and there isn’t enough time left for me to give it the attention it deserves. Instead I’m moving on to a new short story. I don’t have a title for the new story yet. It’s a science fiction piece dealing with the ultimate evolution of artificial intelligence. It feels good to work on something new. I have a few stories that have been sitting on my desk waiting for revisions for ages but for now I feel the need for something fresh.

Last week, when I was diagnosed with depression, the doctor also ordered some bloodwork to test my thyroid. He was concerned about my weight gain, which could have been a side-effect of an abnormally functioning thyroid (as well as the depression). My thyroid test came back okay, but there was a red flag. My blood sugar was higher than it should have been. I had a sweet breakfast that morning and I thought that must have been the cause of the high test results.

After an eight hour fast I had more blood drawn yesterday. It was, as always, a painful experience. I have always had deep veins in my arms and the most reliable way to get a good draw is to use one from my hand – using the butterfly needle. It makes the experience one to remember.

The nurse called with the results today; they weren’t what I was expecting. My blood sugar was lower than the first test, but not low enough. They’ve diagnosed (oh how I am beginning to dislike that word) me with borderline diabetes. It’s something that runs in my family but I never considered to be a possibility. There is a long, rough road ahead of me now. I’ve always been on the heavy side. It’s gotten out of hand over the past few years, though, and this medical issue are a direct result of that. The doctor has put me on a diet of 1,500 calories a day, with the goal of eventually losing 100 pounds.

I’m viewing this as an opportunity. I’m lucky that this was detected now and not in ten years when it could be full-blown diabetes. It’s reversible now. This requires a severe lifestyle change. The way I live and eat has to change. It’s not going to be easy. It’s going to be a challenge unlike any other I’ve faced but, with the support of family and friends, I know I can get get through it and I will be better for it.

A dark cloud shadows the steps of one in six adults throughout their lifetime, and that cloud is named depression. The cause of depression is varied. It could be the result of a chemical imbalance or trauma. Sometimes there’s no apparent reason. Whatever the cause, living with depression is an exercise in frustration. You can’t will it to go away. You think that it’ll go away on its own, but there are no guarentees. After nine solid months of living through this, I was finally diagnosed last friday.

Talking about depression this frankly may seem odd to some people but I am not the type of person to shy away from difficult questions or situations. For too many years I let things bottle up inside and the end result was me in a hospital bed being treated for ulcers at the ripe age of eighteen. Never again.

What exactly does it mean to be depressed? Well, it’s different for everyone, but the tell-tale sign for me was that I couldn’t focus or concentrate. I could sit at work and stare at my screen for hours and not get anything accomplished. There were days where I barely managed to write a single word. I tossed and turned at night, woke up at dawn, and was always tired. I was perpetually grumpy, liable to get angry over the slightest thing. I was emotionally unstable, apt to cry over complete nonsense. The worst part was that, try as I might, I couldn’t control it, or stop it. In fact, for quite a while, I didn’t even notice it. The weight of despair was on me, crushing me completely. Only at its worst did I finally see the extent of the damage.

The bottom line is that I was diagnosed with depression and put on medication to treat it. I also had bloodwork drawn to test for the possibility of a disorderly thyroid, which seemed to be enlarged to some degree. It doesn’t mean I’m fixed. It can take anywhere from one to eight weeks for the medicine to really take hold. Even after that, it could be years before I’m “cured”. It does mean that i took the first step towards getting better, seeking help, and it felt damn good.