Sanity... Priceless?

Stop, don’t say another word. Let’s go for a walk. You know how she gets when you don’t think before responding; a war of words with a writer is an unarmed battle. She knows you wrecked the car. The garage can’t make any repairs without the insurance information. I told her what had happened. What will you two do when I return to school in a week? You know the cops will arrest someone the next time. Kyle is only six…think, juvenile hall or worse, back to Deb’s money-hungry clutches. You should like that your girlfriend loves you and your son. Sit down, eat the biscuit and drink this coffee. I’ll talk to Gayle.

Gayle, I know, I know…. His drinking is getting worse. You’re a saint for dealing with his attitude. Kyle loves you so much, and I think I understand why you are staying… the accident wasn’t your fault. You both need to forgive each other and get counseling because you both lost that baby. I only lost my unborn nephew, but you felt every kick, every move, and I didn’t want to make that decision. Bryan could not decide, and your parents would not get here in time. You are still alive today because of the decision your parents authorized. I only signed the form for them, but I would do it again. You’re more than just my sister-in-law. You’re my friend, family, and sissy. Your family took me in when I needed rescuing without question.

I’m not a counselor, but I will find someone to come here and talk to both of you. Healing has got to happen. Retreating to neutral corners and coming out insulting isn’t working. I hear the sadness choking the love out of your relationship. The person who hit your car that morning was drunk. I also understand that not being able to sue, retaliate, or vent to him for stealing your family is horrible. He didn’t know what happened and never regained conscientiousness; that was hard to swallow, even for me. Anger pent up is detrimental to a body, relationship, and faith. 

I understand why you try not to get angry, but your headaches are crippling you, and I think his drinking is his way of not remembering. Bryan was looking forward to Kyle being a big brother. I saw his spiraling get worse for having to call you that morning; he was stranded because of working overtime and the bus schedule changes. We discussed that he didn’t want to leave you without transportation while working. I had agreed to leave you my car when I came home for the holidays. Who could have predicted a Halloween from hell? Sis, I’m sorry I chose to go to a party on campus instead of delivering the car. Be mad at me; please forgive each other. Wow, maybe I am on the wrong path at school. Building housing doesn’t thrill me since the pandemic.

I enjoy my job at the animal refuge. They started a training program to make every puppy a service dog. The training program for the humans wasn’t too long, hard, or intense. The hardest thing to learn was how not to see potential pets. Too much love, and they are pets. Each dog that I meet is a colleague. They’re there to learn how to care for their human. 

Since I began there, I have taken a tour of the VA hospital. I saw the matching program. We found out that one of them could sniff out diseases, not only sniff them out but point them out. Dogs are intelligent and intuitive. I see the way that the patients light up when they graduate from the program and get to leave it with their service animal. Some people would be unable to leave the hospital because of PTSD or paralysis without having a service dog.

Until I volunteered at the shelter, I had no clue how bad things could get for someone struggling with PTSD. I witnessed someone being plagued with “night terrors.” During the day, he functioned perfectly. As soon as REM sleep was achieved, he was back on the battlefield. The nightmares were so intense that he shook and talked in his sleep. He’d wake up screaming, missing his platoon, and having survivor’s guilt. Twenty-four hours before his entire platoon was killed, he was airlifted to the field hospital in Qatar. There were many similar stories at the Veteran’s Administration (V.A.) hospital.

Who knew my love of animals and wished to help or need to contribute would transition into training service animals. I’m not Dr. Doolittle or anything, but I go home smiling every day. I’m still looking over blueprints from time to time because I don’t want to lose my edge and because there is a need for a new shelter for animals until they are old enough to be evaluated for service or pet status. The plan is to bring several things under one roof: a rehab service, a no-kill pound, and a training program for veterans run by veterans.

Maybe I can get my brother and sissy to do this program; they are veterans, love animals, and need distraction and counseling. So many people who are hurting can’t break down and ask for help. Most seem to carry the world’s weight on their shoulders until they lash out in anger, frustration, and confusion. Suicide, drugs, and alcoholism should not be their only options, but how do you convince a proud individual to seek help?

The idea is to evaluate but let the individual do or say what they are comfortable with when they are ready. Animals are needy but calming forces. Studies have shown that broken people live in silence but will talk to animals, even when they can’t talk to other people. I know I have gone home feeling better every day since I started volunteering. The money I make here isn’t anything close to an architect’s salary but my sanity and seeing a smile emerge from a recluse is priceless!