where hypotheses come to die (madman101) wrote,
where hypotheses come to die
madman101

here's why I have a dog's brain

OK. So here's why. This is a story which deserves a LONG entry, but fuck it. I will have to ask you to believe two things - 1 CFS, at it's worst, is one of the most cruel and devastating illnesses there is. As a matter of a fact, it has the highest suicide rate of any chronic illness. 2 - My Alaskan Malamute, my old dog, now deceased, was the love of my life for a few years. She was an amazing, wise, sweet, fearless, and psychic animal who knew I was ill, and who knew how to deal with me and my illness. She was sent by fortune to help rescue me. Now her brain is in my bedroom.

To read more about this dog, see my poem, "Thunder Falls", in my bio.

Well. I couldn't walk much. But I began walking more when I began taking Lady Baby for walks. At night, because my eyes were sensitive to light, my brain was sensitive to noise, my heart was sensitive to any change or danger. Eventually, our walks became longer and longer - which meant I had to have relapses due to the exercise. And we got to walking in the day time. She always seemed to have some kind of nervousness problem, and other small probs. A few years ago, on July 2, I took her for a walk on a humid day, with the temp outside in the 80's. It was a long walk - another adventure for us. After so many times of telling her, "Listen - that's a TRAIN...", we finally saw a real train together. This was our last time together. Her walk slowed. I ran out of water for her. We kept stopping for her to rest in the shade. Her pace would pick up a little when she recognised our neighborhood. But withing a block of my house, she collapsed, and could not go any farther. I happened to have a blanket with me - which I had found down by the tracks. I asked some dude to help me - after some jerk refusing me - and we carried this HUGE dog to my house. She rested on the cool porch floor. We brought her inside. She rested. And then, she had some very strange stomach noises, and she gasped in severe pain, and I put my mouth to her ear, and I said, "OK - it's OK - you can go. Come on now. We can go..." And she lightly lifted her paw to me. And she was gone. We loved each other.

I moved her rigor-mortified body into the dining room. And called Animal Control. I asked them to put her in a freezer - indefinitley if possible.

I'm telling you, I was filled with unbelievable grief, and guilt. And I knew there was something more than heat exhaustion to her death. I may post more on this.

Well, I had been a local activist, and lay expert, on CFS, and related illnesses. I had heard of a study being done by a scientist on a possible relation between peopel with CFS and the death of their pets. So I tried frantically to find this guy. I finally contacted him, an Aussie, and asked him to study my pet. He said the study was finished - but he would see what he could do. What he need was a sample of my pet's brain to be sent to him.

Why was I doing this? I wanted this noble animal to have died for a reason - to help others, and other pets. And I wanted to know why she died. And I wanted to help others wherever I could. The thought of sending her brain somewhere was horrifying to me - and trying.

I got in contact with a local vet who had done an autopsy on a pet previously. He didn't want to do this, but I convinced him. So I paid him to retrieve the frozen cadaver, thaw it down, and operate on the dog - 1- to get her brain, 2 - to do a regular autopsy. Well, this guy was a real conceaited snot of an asshole, and he went through all this shit about me purchasing formalin for him, which is like formaldahyde. So I got that, and we were set to go, and I made my request/instructions very clear. But he never did the formal autopsy - he only retrieved the brain. And actually, it was only the midbrain - and not the all-important cortex, where CFS lesions have been known to occur. So I was pissed, and boy did I make an ass out of myself yelling at him at the animal clinic.

So, I ended up with the midbrain/brain-stem of my Lady Baby, and I don't remember why I never sent it to the Aussie. I believe the Aussie had simply given up on this, and fell out of touch, probably after talking to the asshole vet. I had really hoped an Aussie could pull through for me - but I guess the stangnacy of Rockford thinking eventually got the better of him. He hated America, too - ha!!!!!

So, that's it.

She loved Brahms...
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Comments allowed for friends only

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 11 comments