Down in his back

  Years ago whenever he was feeling poorly, Pop would say he was "down in his back".  This was usually a sore back caused by overwork on the farm.  The stress and strain of lifting heavy objects or the strain on the back from working the rows with a hoe often caused soreness and stiffness.  Pop carried on without much ado about it other than making the aforementioned statement and taking a "Doan's Backache Pill".  One of those little green pill cans could always be found sitting on the gun rack of all places!  Whatever worked, I guess.

  But now, Mr. PJ, the old dog, is down in his back.  Arthritis and age are taking a toll on the poor dog.  Even with the doggie version of backache pills, he still yelps in pain and trembles until I pull him toward me and hold tight to him.  It seems to comfort him to know someone cares.  I do.  He and I have endured a long, couple of sleepless nights.  His pain seems to worsen at night causing him to be disoriented and frightful.  Until he finds me, he panics.  

  Although he has only been on the Bayou for a year now, he has become "mine".  He and I are never apart and it worries me to see him in so much pain.  Poor old Mr. PJ.  My heart breaks. 

  

On The Mend

  The old dog, Mr. PJ has been suffering a good bit with his arthritis, as of late.  The poor, old dog would yelp in pain with each shift in position as he tried to nap.  His back legs stiffened to the point that he could hardly walk.  He was mighty uncomfortable, to say the least, and getting him up and down the steps of the Little Bayou House was a tremendous chore for me.  Mr. PJ is a large dog and I am not the strongest person.  I, too, have arthritis and helping the dog in and out was strenuous on me.  Son helped a good bit when he could but a lot of times the need was too urgent to wait for him to get here.  I toted the dog. One night, it was eleven times that I had to struggle to get the 67 pound dog out to potty.  Most of the time, there was not the true "urge" but rather hip and lower back pains making him think the outing was needed.  The poor animal was distraught and could not rest unless I was with him.  The first night, I sat near his bed and petted him for the entire night. The next morning, we made a visit to the vet.  Mr. PJ was checked and given a prescription but we were told that it would take several days for the pain to subside.  For two nights afterward, I slept on the floor consoling the pup. 

  Mr. PJ's health has been improving daily.  With the medicine in him, he is able to go up and down the steps.  He is happily taking long, albeit slow, hikes about the hillside again and, today, was elated to get on the pier.  His favorite napping spot had been sorely missed.  (I had been leery of his being over the water because he was stumbling a good bit.)  It is good to see my sweet friend being more active and looking happy again!

My New "Best Friend"

  Aging is rough.  Sorry, youngsters, you get to look forward to some pretty aggravating things as you age. You might as well just suck it up, Buttercup, and get on with life.  Aging ain't fun!  But...getting old beats the alternative.  As of this week, my new best friend is a finger splint. Nope, I did not break, mangle or otherwise mutilate said digit but it is painful.  My old nemesis, arthritis, is flaring up again and causing all sorts of problems.  Gardening, artwork, typing (yup, this blog) and even household chores are difficult if not impossible.  The "ring" finger on my right hand (it would be the right hand...I am right handed) seems to want to lock in the clinched position.  When it locks,  there is practically no getting it free again.  The splint keeps it straight and forcibly keeps it from closing and locking.  The doctor called it a fun thing, "trigger finger", which made me giggle since I have not shot a gun in years!  The doctor explained that the tendon that controls the movement of the finger is inflamed causing it to not glide smoothly through its "sheath". This can cause the finger to become locked and be painful.  Well, he got that right! It is definitely painful.  More so when you try to force the hand back open.  

  So, what do you do about said finger that now has a funny sounding ailment?   "Well," said the diagnosing person with the medical degree, "You could try resting it to start."  Now I like that!  Just how do you rest a finger??  Go to sleep little ring finger...the rest of us have work to do." My friendly medical adviser grinned and asked ever so politely  "Would you wear a splint?"   I was not happy.  A splint?  Images of large body casts, crutches and, wait, a walker flashed through my head.  I was assured that the splint was small and would not impede my hiking.  Yep, the doctor knows me well.

  Next advice from my trusted person with knowledge of health things "Try a pain reliever such as Ibuprofen,  That sometimes can help diminish the inflammation and ease the pain."  I reminded the doctor that taking pills is not something that I find delightful and queried if there was some herb that might do the trick.  He just looked at me like I needed something more to help the thinking and not the hand.  It is a good thing that I am on great terms with my doctor and he understands that I am not what fits in the category of "normal" patients.  I was informed that herbs were not his strong suit and perhaps I knew more about those than he did.  I plan to experiment but first will take a few days of the lovely pills.  Ugh! I was not happy.  

    "If that does not help, we may have to do surgery."  Ok, so let me get this straight.  Since my finger insists on folding down like a clamp, you want to whack at it with a knife?  Egad, Sir!  Do not get any ideas here!  I sort of need this finger.  It adds a lot to the looks of my hand and, when it is acting properly, is rather useful. Without it gloves would be impossible to wear and reeling in a fish would be down right awkward!  Again, I was not happy.  Dr. Smith told me that I was difficult but at least he said it with a grin.  He assured me that the finger would not be lopped off and discarded.  Whew!

  Surgery is not something that I relish. Mark purchased a splint and a bottle of Ibuprofen. (He is a good man!) At this point, the splint is looking mightily like a new body part.  I wear it faithfully,  I am trying to "rest" the finger (not happening, by the way) and I try not to think of the consequences of having a tight fist at all times.  I am not happy about it but I can deal with it.  The pills do help even though I begrudgingly swallow them. Research on herbs and possible exercises has commenced.  I did find that washing dishes in nice hot water seems to give the greatest relief!  Son suggested I learn to use the left hand more but that is sort of like teaching an old dog some new tricks.  I tried. That, too, ain't happening. And I am not happy....but things could be worse.  I shall try to find the silver lining in this dismal cloud.  It has to be there somewhere.  Oh, and just so you will know.  It is really difficult to type with a metal thing clanking around on the keyboard!