The good part of pain

Do you remember how I wished upon the moon for K to start getting better? This morning, K lifted her noble head toward the warm sun and I realized that the moon was shining down upon her.

K is acting as if she recognizes her paw as part of her body now. She's leaving it alone but is limping a bit more than yesterday. I scaled back our walking today. I have to admit that, for the first time, I fully realized that one of her toes is gone as I watched her standing on a rock. It was an emotional shock... but then I reminded myself that our decision to have it amputated may have saved her life.

I hope that K doesn't have phantom pain from the toe that bedeviled her with infection before the amputation. And, I fervently hope that the pathology report tells us that the infection wasn't migrating up her forelimb.

I had pain on my mind this morning during our short hike because I'm reading a good book called "The Pain Chronicles" by Melonie Thernstrom. Last night, I ran across a quote that described exactly the transformation that I experienced a number of years ago that made my daily spine pain less onerous.

Like all chronic disease, chronic pain involves a bifurcation. There is the normal state, where you used to live, and you are conditioned to that state. Then you face a debilitating circumstance that lasts for months or years. When you're in that second state, you hold onto expectations of that first life. You mourn that first life: you want it and want it a million times over. But people have to let themselves die and lose the old expectations. If they let it die, they can rise like a phoenix from the ashes and can have a new life. John Keltner.

My life was completely transformed about five years ago. During that emotional transformation, I learned to see pain as my companion rather than my opponent. I stopped fighting it and started living again.

Part of what I learned at that stage was to resume doing what I love, pain be damned. I started riding my bike again, largely with the encouragement of the Runner, who went on "pity rides" with me - very short and slow rides that gradually taught me that I wasn't as fragile as china.

Now, I get out into nature on my bike and/or on foot almost every day. It makes life worth living for me, especially when I can share it with our dogs. In some ways, my chronic pain has been good for me. I've stopped trying to achieve lofty and nonsensical goals in my professional life, just for the sake of achieving them. Instead, I do what I love.

Today, after I walked K, I had the honor of R joining me for a snow/ice mountain bike ride. I'm not exaggerating when I say that he makes me laugh out loud at least once per ride. His exuberance is contagious.

Before all of our recent training, I felt like R constantly lived on the verge of careening out of control. After our hard work at training, I can snap him out of his obsessions. Today, he was possessed by his phantom rodent obsession. I say "phantom" because the rodents that live in the juniper bush where he hunted went into hibernation weeks ago.

Yes, the muzzle is still needed for 'shroom protection.

We gazed at stupendous views. The forest was eerily silent because the wind burned out its fury last night. I could hear faint chirps of birds. The sound of my snowbike tires resonated with a deep rumbling. The absence of the wind transformed the forest into a serene and life-renewing place.

Last night, believe it or not, a bobcat visited us again. I think that he heard rumor of the Year of the Bobcat!

He stayed in the camera's view for less than a minute before exiting rapidly in his crouched stalking posture.

Yesterday, a pack of 4 coyotes moved through a corridor, one by one, where I've never photographed coyotes before. I wonder what drew them to the area? Questions, questions, questions. I couldn't find anything to attract a coyote so it will remain a mystery of the forest.

I wonder what fascinating things will happen in the forest tonight? I can't wait to find out!