Pre-TSD

In the morning I want nothing more than to pull the covers over my head and go back to pretending that breast cancer is just a bad dream and I can create a good dream to overlay it and make everything all better. But, no, I have a dog.

My dog Bailey must be fed and medicated on a regular schedule because she is diabetic and the consequences of ignoring that are too dire to describe. Suffice to say that if she is not fed and medicated on time she seems to have a near death experience that is much too scary to risk. Once she is fed and has had her insulin shot and eye drops, she MUST have a walk. A real walk. Not just a stroll up the block so that she can relieve herself. She must go all the way to the river and find just the right spot for her morning poop.

So I get up. I am not always happy to get up but once I am up and active things generally improve. The walk gets me going and lifts my spirits. I make my mental “to do” list for the day and we are both better for the experience. Not today.

Today it rained. That’s not unusual in Oregon and rarely disturbs our routine. The problem is that when we get back, Bailey is too wet to come in the house. I open the garage, drape my wet coat over a chair and leave her to dry off near the garage heater. I want to have my breakfast and read the paper. She wants in. She claws at the door and howls. She whimpers. She cries. Normally, I would dry her off and let her in but today her behavior made me furious. Instantly I decided I didn’t want a dog any more. I didn’t want to deal with her needs. I felt like howling and whimpering right back at her. Keeping up with Bailey’s routine has seen me through recovery from uterine cancer treatments, several surgeries, illnesses and depression. But today I didn’t want any of it.

My husband rescued her. He toweled her off and let her in and left me wondering what on earth had made me so angry. It was so out of proportion. I think I know all about anxiety and its various symptoms but, for me at least, anger has never been one of them. So this is a new variety of anxiety for me. I have even given it a name. Pre-TSD. I am experiencing pre-traumatic stress disorder. I feel better now that I have named it.