Lupus. Even the word is kind of sluggish. It sort of falls out of my mouth unenergized and tired. Since I was diagnosed with Lupus two years ago I’ve had to learn my body’s limitations. Lupus is a medical condition where my immune system attacks my body.
I’m sitting here now with my boys, dachshunds Ollie and Winslow, at my side and Duncan snoring at my feet. And I’m tired. My fingers ache as I type. My pleurisy is acting up. My big toe hurts. And the list goes on, but the boys make it better. And Duncan’s snoring is music to my ears, because snoring means there is breath in his lungs. And that, to me, is a miracle.
Caring for Duncan has been an interesting experience for me. Since we rescued him nearly two weeks ago we’ve grown close. He also has an auto-immune disease and suffers from painful joints, fatigue, mouth ulcers, a degenerative muscle structure, AND he is 50 lbs underweight. So he is constantly attacked just like me, but I think that we have both found hope in each other. When we first picked Duncan up from Pasco County Animal Services, he was a dirty, stinky mess. His eyes were matted, his hip bones protruded into the concrete floor, and he was unable to walk. There seemed to be no light in his eyes, only shadows of his pain. Ten days on the floor of that dark pen brought him pain, and piled it onto Lupus pain. There was a hollowness. A dimness. Sadness.
The first week was rough. Duncan still didn’t feel good. We had a bleak outlook for his recovery from the veterinarian, but most of all Duncan seemed to be giving up. We went through a few days where he didn’t want to eat, drink, or go outside. We sat on the floor next to Duncan with his head in our lap more times than we can count, praying for his sweet soul, and stroking his gaunt frame. Searching beyond the traditional vet clinic, we visited a holistic veterinary practice in hopes of doing everything possible for Duncan. Although this veterinarian too seemed somewhat grim to the prognosis as well, he understood, like Ward and I, why it was worth saving this special boy.
I will never forget that moment. I was sitting on the floor of the vet’s room with Duncan, and we looked at each other and held our gaze. It was in that moment that Duncan told me he wanted to try. He wanted to live. Within seconds, Ward knew too even though no words were spoken. So with the veterinarians blessing, we discussed a treatment plan and Duncan started therapy that day. So, on March 1, 2012, another journey began for myself and Duncan. It is one that I am sharing with Ward and Duncan and somehow we are stronger together. Duncan and I know how each other feel physically because we share more than a human-animal bond. It is a deeper bond that goes beyond any explanation I could give to you. I can’t say that I understand it, but I respect it. And the journey goes on. I will be strong while Duncan needs rest. When I am weary and sick, I will remember Duncan’s fight for life. I will let him nuzzle my hand with his nose, and tell me that this flare will pass. I will push myself a little bit more to make the difference for one more lil’ lovey that is suffering.
This week we have seen significant improvement in Duncan’s progress. He is walking more and with more ease. He has discovered a love of kangaroo kibble. He enjoys sitting in the backyard in the sun, waggin’ his nubbin, and smiling! Thank you for your inspiration sweet Duncan. Each day may you get stronger and stronger to enjoy the love, peace, and acceptance that LoveyLoaves Sanctuary offers (for now our home).
~ Cheri Wells
