Do you believe in miracles?

April 6, 2009

I am not even certain how to say this, but our Samadhi is alive and well. A bit of backstory, if you’ll indulge me for a moment…

The last weekend in March, I took my girls to Atlanta, to participate in Tibet Week at Emory University. We’re Tibetan Buddhists and I thought it would great exposure for the girls…and it was. We had a marvelous time and I’ll post the details at a later date. I talked to Mom and Dad a few times during that weekend away, but they never let on that Sammy dog wasn’t well. When I got home on Sunday, they said she’d suffered several seizures and they were really worried, but hadn’t wanted to stress me while we were trying to get our Zen on in Atlanta. I made sure they’d lined up a vet appointment first thing monday, shed a few tears with mom and dad, said a prayer and waited for news.

By Monday afternoon, Mom called to say it was a brain tumor- incurable, but they had injections they could administer to try to shrink the mass, which may eliminate or decrease the seizures, even if only temporarily. I asked that they obtain the medicine and start the treatment. Samadhi had been fretful all weekend- panting and pacing between seizures and Mom, Dad and I all agreed to hope for the best, but understood that we’d likely need to put her down if she didn’t experience any relief. I hate the very thought of that, but I recognize that it’s sometimes the most compassionate choice. We all cried our way through Monday. Dad called with an update that evening- Sam had her first injection and a Valium to help calm her and encourage her to rest. She was much improved, no longer fretful and he was very hopeful.

I woke up Tuesday feeling optimisic and waiting for news. That afternoon, Mom called to tell me that Samadhi was gone. I was shocked and so deeply saddened. More specifically, Daddy had let her out Monday night to go to the bathroom before bed. She seemed stronger and was going through her usual routine outside as Daddy watched her. He stepped away for just a minute, came back to call her in and she was gone. Completely gone. Mom and Dad were frantic and called her for hours, then took up flashlights and searched the woods all around their neighborhood. As I said before, they live on a large lot in a wooded area on the end of an isolated cul-de-sac on a lake. Not the easiest place to find a missing creature. Dad barely slept and searched endlessly that night and the next morning. They sent emails to all their neighbors, searched the sheds and properties of nearby homes, sifted through piles of leaves, EVERYTHING. By Tuesday afternoon, they had accepted that she had likely wandered off to die, as dogs are prone to do. Dad was so crushed that he couldn’t even call to tell me. Mom said he felt terrible that he wasn’t with her when she passed and felt like he hadn’t done right by me. We had agreed the day before that I would rush to Knoxville if they decided she needed to be put down, as I felt like I owed it to her to be there. Dad had promised that, if I couldn’t be there because the suffering was too intense and she needed to be put down immediately, he’d hold her tight and see her off, save her body and give her a proper funeral as soon as I could come. In this worst case scenario, we didn’t have the luxury of either.

So I raced to Knoxville to comfort Daddy and help search, but she was gone without a trace. We cried it out as a family, looked through old pictures of her and tried our best to get through it together. The next day I returned home, thankful for my family but crushed about Samadhi. I wrote the previous tribute upon my return, had a few more good cries, explained it to my kids and comforted them. As so it was…

UNTIL my mom rang my cell yesterday. I am with the kids in Seattle on Spring Break and my phone was almost dead, so I ignored the call, making a mental note to call her back as soon as we got back to the house and could charge up again. She called again, I ignored it. Then she sent an SOS Twitter: “CALL NOW.” When we spoke, she told me Sam was home. What? Indeed. Six days later, Samadhi appeared at their doorstep. Apparantly, no worse for the wear: she seemed well-fed, no sign of ill health, no matted fur, no injuries. I don’t know exactly what to make of it, but I’ll certainly take it. The girls and I let out a shriek that shook the walls of the Tacoma Glass Museum, where we were touring when I rang mom and got the news.

That’s a tired Samadhi with my sweet papa on his front porch this morning. They’ve been hand-feeding her delicious food she wouldn’t normally get (ham and mac-n-cheese…ha) and they’ve drowned her in an avalanche of treats. Thirty-six hours later, not a single seizure and Dad says she’s more mobile now than she’s been in months. No one can make heads or tails of it; I can only tell you that Samadhi was not in those woods for six days. I don’t know where she was, but she wasn’t there. I realize we’re on borrowed time, but she’s happy to be home and Mom and Dad are thrilled to have her. She was sleeping peacefully at mom’s feet when I last called her and Dad went to the vet today to pick up more medicine to continue her therapy. For now, we have our Samadhi back…and I believe in miracles. I thank you all for your warm wishes via email, twitter and this blog. They’ve been a great comfort in the last week. The kids and I plan to travel to Knoxville next weekend to get some cuddles in and say a prayer for her- I’d be most grateful if you’d do the same.

Tags

printer friendly

Comments

Comments

Comments

Comments

Post a comment

(If you haven't left a comment here before, you may need to be approved by the site owner before your comment will appear. Until then, it won't appear on the entry. Thanks for waiting.)

Name:

Email Address:

URL:

Remember personal info?

Comments:

Verification (needed to reduce spam):