Change is Hard

It's been longer than usual since I've updated - sorry y'all. We've been busy.


In the past week, we have:

• installed 14 new windows in our house
• gone out of town visiting relatives
  
• made gourmet pizzas with new Bridgetown friends
• called 911
• brought a brand-new foster dog into our house

... and lots of other stuff too.

We hung out at Mark's mom Deb's house this past weekend and played cards with Mark's Gran. Our little dog Oliver was chilling out in Gran's arms, which put a big smile on her face. She loves all living creatures - the animal obsession is obviously in Mark's blood.

Halfway through the card game, though, Gran frowned, closed her eyes, and put her hand to her forehead. She's 88 so we got a bit concerned. Mark took the dog from her arms and suddenly Gran's eyes rolled sideways and then up, and she slumped slowly back in her chair. Her body shook and her eyes closed completely. Mark and his mom jumped to her side to keep her from sliding completely out of her chair, and we all called her name.

There was no response. Her eyes remained closed; her mouth slack.


Mark called 911 as I grabbed the three barking dogs and hauled them off to another room. Gran did regain consciousness and the ambulances came, stayed for a while, and then left. She would not go with them.

Like so many families, Deb and her mother have been having an ongoing debate about Gran's level of independence. She lives alone, does not have enough short-term memory left to remember whether she's eaten anything at all on any given day, is supposed to take a mountain of pretty hard-core pills each day (but often forgets to) and is highly resistant to moving into a care facility.

Change is hard.

Gran is quite miffed that we all "caught her" fainting, but her daughter is horrified at the thought that she may pass out again when she is alone in her home. She could break a bone or hit her head, Deb tells her. Gran doesn't really care, and says as much. She just wants to stay in her own home, and refuses to have care workers into her house.

Change is hard.

A few months ago they toured a high-end assisted living facility together, and Gran admitted to liking it. She refused to move into it back then and Deb relented, but it seems that the time has come. We'll see what happens.


We left them after extracting promises of constant updates on Gran's situation, and on Deb's new dog Robbie, who completely fell to the sidelines in this post with all the drama going on around him. He's perfect - that's all you need to know right now.

We also got a new foster dog this weekend, who is not so perfect. He's a Beagle, which is not so great to start off with. It's not that Beagles are inherently bad; it's just that they're not our style of dog at all. They tend to be high-energy dogs who prefer not to use their brains. That describes our Oland perfectly, but really he has a very sweet personality.


His greatest failings are not his fault. He's young - the head of our rescue group said he was probably two, but I think he is younger than that. He has no house manners and jumps on counters, tables, windows, people, and other dogs. That's not his fault. Nobody bothered to show him how to behave politely. He pulls mightily on his leash when he's walked. That's not his fault. Again, nobody bothered. He acts like a puppy but is a lanky, full grown dog. We'll work with him and I think he will respond well.

It will take time, though.

Change is hard.