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Our Silver Lining
Our younger Old English Sheepdog, Silverado (we
called him Silver), suddenly passed away early Wednesday
morning. We feel fortunate to have rescued him 25 months ago.
I believe that to have a pet, love a pet, and lose a pet,
improves our human experience.
It occurs to me that our Silver, like Baron (who
we lost about 2 years ago) and Cutha (our remaining rescue),
taught us much about our own lives:
Passion. Every morning for the last 2
years, upon awakening, Silver was there, waiting for me to take
him downstairs to eat his breakfast. He ate with gusto and
passion. He was in the moment enjoying what he had. At night,
when I came home from a long day, he was so happy to see me. He
would grab an old shoe and bring it to me to play, even though
he was blind, disabled, and no doubt in pain. He was in the
moment enjoying what he had. Silver had no idea he was disabled
but he knew what made him happy. Silver was passionate; he knew
the time was now and the place was here.
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Patience and empathy. Silver
was disabled, he was essentially sightless – an
autoimmune complication of a prolonged respiratory
illness – and he was in a harness because of lumbar
stenosis and hip arthritis. He needed assistance on
stairs and even to stand. He was not always this
way; he slowly transitioned to this state and we
adapted. We needed to be on alert all the time for
his needs and we knew this made us tap into
ourselves to be there for him, just as all of us
would hope to do for any family member, any friend,
or, in my world, any patient.
Kindness. Having patience and
empathy encourages us to extend kindness, and
kindness breeds kindness. Kindness is free and it
feels good. No one is ever hurt by kindness. I
hope you see this always in the way my office treats
you, my valued patient. |
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Changing it up. Silver’s needs changed
over the 25 months we had him. That required us to keep
changing our game plan – a metaphor for life, a lot like sailing
a boat. Our ultimate destinations are all the same; life,
indeed, is about the journey. And, just like sailing, we cannot
change the way the wind blows, but we can change the direction
of our sail. And so, for Silver, we adapted to his changing
health. It did not feel like a sacrifice, it felt good. We
appreciated his daily passion, extending patience, kindness, and
empathy and adapting to his needs.
As you may have heard before, I firmly believe
that the way we think affects the way we feel, and the way we
feel affects the way we think. So, what is a thought? At a
molecular basis, it is electrochemical. The manner in which we
think determines how we feel. If you’re good at making yourself
feel bad by thinking negatively, it means you have a powerful
brain. But that same brain hardware can do the opposite, and
make you feel good by thinking positively. All you have to do
is think about what you want to happen and then take steps to
make it happen. It starts with an intention to make things
better. Smile when you read this and you’ll feel what I mean.
Trust me; smile, and feel its electrochemical effect. You see,
your facial muscles that form the smile signal your brain to
release chemicals and change the electrical transmission of the
brain that cause you to feel better. Sights, smells, and hearing
all evoke neurophysiologic changes in the way we think and feel.
Pets in particular do this; it’s been scientifically studied!
If you would like to read a moving book about the
care and loss of a rescue dog, consider “Rescuing Sprite” by
Mark Levin. I read it after we lost Baron and will read it
again after losing Silver. Here is an excerpt from the
introduction:
“I loved this dog. Writing this book was both
painful and cathartic for me. Reading it may be emotional for
you. I hope it brings you some smiles. I know it will bring
you some tears. I hope, when you're done, that you are moved to
hold your dog closer in your arms--or in your memories.”
Life is one big journey. Stuff happens along the
way – sometimes good, sometimes not so good, and sometimes bad –
but onward we go looking for purpose. If you are questioning
your purpose, you might enjoy one of my favorite authors, Dan
Millman. Here is a piece of his writing that is meaningful to
me:
“Kindness completes our lives. We are all in
this together.
For most of us, sharing a meal or a movie
magnifies the pleasure. So does sharing our lives. Humans are
designed to interact, to serve and be served, to work and play
together. We all need privacy at times, but the habitual lone
wolf, the separate self-staring in the mirror, needs to break
out of solitary confinement. No one is smarter than all of us,
and no one truly accomplishes anything on their own. All we
have done rests on the shoulders of those who came before.
Offer and accept a helping hand; we are all in this together.”
We will miss Silver, and our lives are better
having had him. It’s a cloudy day today, but we know the clouds
are lined with Silver.
Wishing you good health,
Harry
Harry Oken MD |
