Happy Ironmanniversary

One year ago today I became an Ironman. On August 29, 2010, I completed Ironman Canada in 16 hrs and 26 mins. It was the most challenging and most rewarding day of my life. Physically and mentally, it was more than I ever imagined and it changed who I am.

Yesterday, Trevor and I went out for 13 mile run and it was a tough one. I struggled and was really complaining. About half way through I had to tell myself to stop whining, stop being such a baby. "You are tougher than this" I said to myself. Then, as we were finishing up the last mile, I remembered how it felt that last little bit before I crossed the finish line at Ironman. Here's how I described it in my blog post from last year:

I had thought about how tough this day would be, thought I understood what it was about, thought I knew what people were talking about in their notes, advice and race reports. I can tell you, unless you’ve done this, traveled this journey, you can’t understand. In the next few moments…I understood.

I entered the chute. The spotlight was on me. Thousands of people were cheering, stamping their feet, banging their hands on the barriers that lined the chute. It was exhilarating. I got the chills and the hair on my arms stood on end. They were all there for me. I ran, I smiled, I raised my arms in the air as they put the finishers banner across the line and I ran through it. Done. 16 hours and 30 minutes after I started.

I got my medal, they took my timing chip. I saw Doug and Trevor. Our theme as a team is “We live for Crazy”. I said to them “This is the craziest F*cking thing we’ve ever done”. And it was.

I remembered that feeling and I wanted to cry. That was the best feeling I have ever had in all my life. It washed over me in those few seconds and I felt stronger than ever before. I have been able to carry that feeling with me ever since. I know that I am mentally and physically much tougher than I was before I started that day. I am much less afraid of things in general.

Yesterday, was Ironman Canada 2011. We had a few friends participating and we tracked them all day long. I was envious. I want that feeling again. Trevor and I had decided a while ago that we are going to the Vineman Full Iron Distance Triathlon in July of 2012. I made the hotel reservations today. I am so excited!

Last year, it was really just about finishing. I had suffered a pretty severe arm injury during a crash on my bike a couple weeks before the event and was just happy to be able to complete the day. I know I could have done better, I know I could have finished in a better time and that still bothers me now. I really look forward to improving my time and going into this next event stronger and faster than I have ever been. I also really look forward to doing it all again with Trevor.

I read over my posts from the time around Ironman last year and remember how overwhelmed I was with the outpouring of support and the physical/mental exhaustion I was feeling. It is hard to believe its been a year since then.

It really was the best day of my life and I can't wait to do it again....

I don't like new things

I am a creature of habit. I like comfort, I don't like new, unfamiliar things. Three years ago, I learned to swim in order to do triathlons. It was the scariest thing I've ever put myself through. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to learn. Last year, I did an Ironman Triathlon - swam 2.4 miles. I was scared to death before the event, but during the actual swim, I was calm and relaxed. It was a very comfortable hour and 40 minute swim and I felt great.

I was slow. I am a slow swimmer and I am okay with that. This summer was the first time I have been able to approach the swim portion of a triathlon without major anxiety. I finally hit my stride.

All that happiness and comfort ended today. We plan to do another Iron distance triathlon next year and I want to be a better swimmer. I want to be a faster, more efficient swimmer. Over the past year, I have really worked on my running and improved my times tremendously. Now for the swim.

Trevor is a very good swimmer. He is confident and fast. Today we went to the pond and he coached me on my swim. I know he was nervous about this because I don't like to be told what to do. I get mean and angry when I am challenged.

I had decided that I was going to remain calm and really work to learn a better stroke. You see - I breath every stroke, always to the right side. I've been lucky that in all my events that has been okay. I know it is just a matter of time until I am in a swim where breathing to the right isn't possible due to water conditions or other swimmers and then I am screwed. I want to learn to bilateral breath every 3rd stroke.

Today was the most challenging swim I had since my first swim lesson. It was hard. I was angry. What made me the most angry was that when I did the new stroke correctly, I could feel how much more efficiently and quickly I moved through the water. When I went back to my old stroke, I felt like I was standing still. So what used to be comfortable was now uncomfortable and what I was trying to learn was also uncomfortable. I couldn't get the breathing rhythm down. I was holding my breath at the end of the stroke and my heart rate was sky rocketing. I had to stop alot. Trevor is such a good coach - so patient. I wanted to yell at him and I think at one point I told him I wanted a divorce. I kept telling myself that I needed to stick with it and it would eventually get easier, probably not today, but eventually.

I told Trevor that I hated it because it was hard. He reminded me of something I already know - the hard is where the progress is made. I do know that is true, but I had gotten into such a nice groove where I could swim forever at my slow and comfortable pace. I feel like I am starting all over again...and really...I am.

We finished up our swim and I was exhausted. I can't wait to practice and see improvement. I like learning new things once they are learned...I look forward to being at that point, because right now its just hard!! Stay tuned...

Forever young

You may have seen this story on the news - 4 football players from Mainland High school in New Jersey died last weekend when the car they were riding in flipped over. There were 4 more kids in the car with them who survived. It made national news. I have a lot of friends still in New Jersey, many of them are high school teachers. Since the accident, I have seen a lot of facebook posts about it. A couple of my friends either work with a parent or know someone who knows the parents of the kids who died. I have been following the story, watching the facebook page started for them and reading the newspapers.

You can follow the story here

Two of the funerals are today, so the papers all have pictures of the lines outside the churches and funeral homes. Thousands of teenagers waiting to say goodbye to their friends. This brings back memories for me and breaks my heart because I know how those kids feel.

When I was a teenager I lost two friends in accidents. Cathy Marchetta died on April 5, 1991 in a car accident. We were juniors in high school. Bill Lorge died on June 7, 1993 when he was hit by a car. We had just finished our freshman year in college. I remember their viewings and funerals as if they just happened yesterday. I remember the shock at the news and specifically where I was and how I heard. I remember how all our friends just wanted to be together. I remember how our parents just wanted us to be home. I remember the tears, the wailing cries of Cathy and Bill's parents at their viewings. I remember the silence with which our teachers greeted us afterwards - not sure what to say or what to do. They were trying to manage their own grief. I remember the tears cried by my male friends, the strong, silent ones, who broke down in the middle of class - you expect that from your girlfriends, but not so much the boys. I remember seeing Bill's parents years later and not knowing what to say.

Its been over 20 years since Cathy died and close to 20 years since Bill died. I think of the two of them often. I think of them always on the days they died. I thought of them when I graduated college, at our high school reunion, when I got married, when I see other high school friends having kids. I think of them when I hear about high school kids dying and a hundred other times for really no reason at all.

I think of these kids from Mainland now, who are mourning their friends. I know that 20 years from now, they will still miss them. I know that they will never totally heal from the things they will see and hear during these times. And the ones who were in the car and didn't die, I know there will be times when they wish they did.

Without a doubt, I can say that all my high school friends know these same things. I know they are all reliving those days, years ago, when we were the ones standing in line to say goodbye. When we were doing the unthinkable.

These kids died in a tragic accident. There were 8 of them in the car. The reports say the driver wasn't distracted, but anyone who has had 8 people in the car, and lets be honest - we all have, knows that is distracting. It is just stupid. It hits home because we have all done stupid things, both when we were young and probably since we've been grown. Most of us survived despite our stupid decisions. These kids didn't. And that is tragic.

So, now there are four more who will be forever young. Four more who will always be 15, 16 or 17. All their dreams died with them, everything they worked for and hoped for. All the things their families wanted for them. Its all gone

For everyone who knew them and for all the kids who have to walk the halls of Mainland High School this year, life will never be the same. Even the kids who didn't know them will be affected by the change in the air. When something like this happens, the difference is almost palpable. The media will be all over the school. I remember that happened when Cathy died - she had been the third student to die in a short period of time. I hated how there were always stories in the papers about it. Reports always wanting to talk about it. I expect it will be worse for these kids.

Years from now, when they are grown, they will still remember these 4 boys. They'll wonder how their lives would have turned out and they'll still feel the pain of losing someone so young. When they are parents, they will think about how it would feel to lose a child and will have a whole new respect for the parents of the boys who died. They will share this bond with their classmates and friends, just like I do with mine. No matter how far apart they grow over the years, this one thing will always tie them together.

I wish them the strength to be able to move on, not forget, but at least be able to laugh again. It will get easier, but it never goes away.

10 things I learned 5 years ago

August 19, 2006....Trevor and I got married. Here are 10 very important things that I learned that day.


1. I want to be with Trevor. All the time. He is my best friend. I remember when we were chosing people to be our attendants at the wedding, Trevor said "you are my best friend. I want you to be my best man, but you are the bride".

2. I have a really great family - my family and Trevor's family were awesome. Some people get really nuts about weddings. Our families kept things relatively stress free, they went with the flow, let us do what we wanted and supported us. My sister in law, Nicole and cousin Kristen, took it upon themselves to take care of the table decorations - they went to the farmer's market that morning and bought flowers to put on the tables. I didn't ask them to do it, they just did it. And it was perfect. I looked at those flowers and I felt loved.

3. My lifelong friends - Erin Smith, Megan Crank and Lorraine Toto will travel any distance and time to be there for me. I love them immensely and will always feel honored that they were there with me on the most important day of my life.

4. I do not like being the center of attention as much as I thought I did.

5. Often it is the people you expect the most from who give you the least.

6. When you have a DJ for an event, its important to discuss what you want with them before said event. We had a friend do the DJing and to this day I cringe when I think of how the reception turned into a teenage dance club with flashing lights and pounding bass. At one point, my chest was vibrating from the sound of the bass. That wasn't what I was going for on my wedding day!

7. It is possible for a person to go from being one of my favorite people to one of my least favorite people in a very short period of time. Thanks to Clare Sanders for teaching me that. To this day, he is the only negative memory I have of our wedding day. For bashing my father in law and calling my wedding a "skit", he will forever be on my list of least favorite people.

8. When things don't go according to the plan, it makes for a better story. I don't want a perfect life, I want to be able to laugh at things when they go wrong. For example, when you plan to walk out of your wedding to a song that says "every day of my life has been leading me here tonight, feels like I'm coming home, back to you" and instead this song plays: "Well you packed your bags and said you're leaving tonight, gotta catch the last train to the big city lights...", it is far better to laugh than to be angry. And that's what we did....we laughed. We also laughed when our best man's toast included a comment that caused some in the crowd to gasp. Because what else can you do....

9. The Heathman Hotel in downtown Portland has the most comfortable beds and the shortest robes.

10. It is the small moments that have the most impact. The little things...like holding hands and praying with my maid of honor right before I walked down the aisle (my prayer was "Dear God, please don't let me F*ck this up" - meaning my marriage). My dad seeing me for the first time that day and holding my hand as we walked down the aisle to Bruce Springsteen's live recording of Jersey Girl. Trevor seeing me for the first time that day and telling me that I looked beautiful. My Grammie giving me a ring that belong to her mother as my something old. There were a million little, seemingly inconsequential things that happened that day that I will remember forever.

Here is what Trevor says he learned that day:
Never do pictures after the ceremony - that's what we did and it took us away from our guests for way too long. So long that some of them left before we got back. We didn't do very many traditional things, but I was really set on not seeing each other before I walked down the aisle. We all suffered because of it! I don't know why that was so important to me, but it was.

I could list a million things that I've learned over the last 5 years. Being Trevor's wife has been the best experience of my life. It still makes me happy when people call me Mrs. Bryant or when Trevor introduces me as his wife. I think that the thing that I loved most about our wedding day is that it wasn't about the wedding - the dress, the food, the gifts...it was about getting married to my best friend. It was about standing in front of our friends and family and promising to love each other forever. Perhaps the most important thing I learned that day is that we are loved.

Happy Anniversary to the most tolerant man I know. Thank you for choosing me to be your wife.

Just for fun, here is my anniversary post from last year, it includes links to a couple previous anniversaries as well...
here

Loving life

She can't see or hear, but she sure can run....

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My story of addiction

I admit it. I am an addict. I don't believe my addiction is a problem, I don't want a 12 step program and I don't want to stop using. But, I am, in fact, an addict. I am addicted to coffee and I have been for many years. This morning when I was at Starbucks, waiting for my venti iced soy latte and thinking about how it was the best part of my day, I realized it is my addiction. This is my story.

Growing up, my dad smoked and drank coffee...lots and lots of coffee. It never appealed to me and I never really gave it any thought. Its not like now where there is a coffee place on every corner and teenagers live on frappachinos and mocha lattes.

I believe it was the summer between my freshman and sophmore years in college. My mom and I were making the cross country trip from New Jersey to Boulder, Colorado. We stopped at my grandfather's house in Illinois. His wife, Gail, had been to Seattle recently and was telling us about the big new craze there - coffee lattes. She said there were stands all over the place where they made these drinks with coffee and steamed milk. I didn't know what the big deal was with that. I didn't even like coffee.

That year, while at college in Boulder, I had an office job. My boss would send me to get coffees for the people I worked with. They'd get things like raspberry mochas and vanilla lattes. My boss would always say "I buy, you fly"...meaning he would buy my drink and I would drive to go get it. I would get a coffee drink and I wasn't really impressed with it...but if someone else was buying, why would I NOT get one.

We did this several times a week and eventually I started to like the way these drinks tasted. I started getting a coffee on my way to school and on the weekends. There was a great little locally owned place called Vic's coffee. It was right next to Moe's bagels - perhaps the best bagel place in the world. Every morning I would stop and get a bagel and then go next door to get a coffee. I remember how warm and humid it was in Vic's and how it smelled like burnt coffee.



I lived about a block away and spent way more time that I should have at these places. I always saw people I knew and I really enjoyed my daily routine.

I graduated college and after a year working an office job, I got a job at the Boulder Daily Camera - the local newspaper. This was when my coffee addiction really took hold. I work 2 am to 10 am every day. There were a few little coffee shops right around the paper. I'd go to one of them every day. Sometimes twice a day.

After about a year, I got promoted and worked a little more normal schedule. By this time, I was a smoker. I had moved across town to an apartment that was a block away from the another Vic's coffee. I would stop there every morning and get my vanilla latte and drive the long way to work. That gave me enough time to smoke two cigarettes and enjoy my latte. That was the best part of my day.

By this time, Starbucks was just starting to make its move. There were a couple locations that popped up here and there. While I still loved the local shops, there was something flashy and new about Starbucks. There was a location right by a house where I regularly house sat. Up until this point, the largest size drink they had was 16 ounces. I remember the day the unveiled the venti - 20 ounces. Oh Dear God, that was one of the best days of my life. If 16 ounces was good...then 20 ounces was even BETTER!!!

There was another chain of coffee shops called Peaberry's.

I would have to say that their Vanilla Latte is to date, the best coffee drink I have ever had. It was so smooth and sweet and creamy. Yummy!!! I don't know why I didn't go there all the time, I guess it was out of the way.

Shortly after that, I got a job in New Jersey and was set to move. My dad got online and found where the closet Starbucks was! When I got settled into my new home, in a new town, I drove 20 minutes out of my way every morning to get a coffee at Starbucks. Vanilla latte. Venti. After a year there, I got a job in Portland Oregon - the mecca of coffee shops. I had no idea until I got there just how bad it was.

In Portland, there is a coffee shop on every corner. Literally. From my office building, you could walk in any direction and there would be a Starbucks. There were at least 10 of them within a couple blocks and they were all busy, all the time.

Getting coffee was always the highlight of my day. My coworkers and I would say to each other "want to go get a coffee?" We'd do it before the Monday meeting, we'd do it on Wednesday mornings. I would meet Trevor's dad, Jay, at the Starbucks in Beaverton damn near every morning for coffee. That is where he came up with the idea that I should meet Trevor.

On my first date with Trevor, we stopped at Starbucks on the way to his parents house. When I moved in with Trevor, we'd have breakfast every morning at the Starbucks in Battle Ground. That was our routine for many years, until our jobs changed. Once I started working in a different department at the paper, coffee breaks for the only sane part of my day. My friend Diane and I would email each other: "coffee"...."10 minutes"...."let's go!!!". We'd walk across the street where I would get my soy latte and she would get her iced teas. They new us by name and by drink. We didn't even have to order. They just knew.

If I needed to meet with someone, we went to Starbucks. In the afternoons, we'd go get another coffee or an iced drink or a muffin or cookie. Just something, to get out of the office and into the comfort of Starbucks. Some of my best memories are from times spent there.

I have had a latte or coffee drink of some sort just about every single day since 1997. There was one vacation in Jamaica where there was no coffee shop and regular coffee at breakfast had to do. But that is really the only time we didn't have it. Even on our trip to China, we found a Starbucks. During marathons and triathlons, all I can do is think about how much I want a latte when we are done. I remember during my first half Ironman, all I wanted was to finish so we could stop and get a latte on the way back to the hotel. Ironman, well, that day we finished too late to get a coffee. But I had one the day before and the day after!!

Figure, on average, $4 per day (give or take). That's $1460 per year, for 14 years....$20,440 over my life on coffee. My dad used to say that I could drive a mercedez if I kicked my coffee habit.

I've been on diets and have always said that if I had to get rid of my daily latte, I wouldn't do it. When money has been tight, I refused to give up my daily lattes. I would scrounge for change in my drawers and Trevor's desk to have enough money to make my daily stop.

Seriously...it is the best part of my day. Every day. Something comforting about holding that drink in my hand - hot in the winter, cold in the summer. I've tried to stop before, but I don't really want to, so it doesn't work. I feel like every day, all the good memories that I have of the past are served up to me in my coffee cup. And that is something I enjoy immensely. So, here's to another decade of lattes....I'm just waiting for them to come out with something bigger than the 20 ounce size!!!

Guest Blogger....Asha!

I asked my mom if I could do a blog post. I know she's been talking about me and I wanted to talk about myself!!!

I'm only six months old and I have already done a lot of living! I won't go into the details of how I ended up at the shelter in the first place. The story of how my life began is sad and I don't want you to feel sad for me. Instead, I'll tell you about how I got to the best place in the world - that's where I live now.

The shelter is a scary place for a dog, even more scary for a dog that can't see or hear like me. I didn't understand what was going on, so I would bark a lot and turn in circles. The people there were really nice to me, but it was hard for me. One nice lady would bring me into her office, I'd lay under her desk and chew on the wires to her computer.

Someone called a foster parent came to get me and took me to his house. There were lots of other doggies there and I did pretty good, but it wasn't my forever home. After a while, I left that place and went to live with some other people. Supposedly, they had experience with dogs like me. I was scared of my new place and I barked and circled and couldn't be calmed down. Those people didn't like it, so they took me back to the shelter after just 4 days. I was really confused, but I knew that wasn't my forever home either. I stayed with my foster family again for a few days and then found myself back at the shelter in a big room.

All of a sudden, I smelled a new person. She sat down on the floor and I layed down in her lap. It was my mom and I knew it right away. She touched me with more emotion than anyone else ever had before. I knew she loved me and she loved me a lot. Then I smelled a man and TWO doggies. They were my family. All of them. I ran in big circles and barked! I showed them how I could map out a room and figure things out. Then I showed them how I could pee!!

A few days later, my mom and dad came to get me and they took me home. Even though I knew it was my forever home, I was still scared. I didn't know my way around and there were lots of new smells. When I get scared and confused, I run in tight circles. Its a really bad habit and I was hoping my mom and dad would help me kick it! Every time I started to circle, they would stop me and give me a treat while they patted my side.

My name at the Shelter was Pinky. My mom and dad changed my name - I was really glad they didn't name me Helen or Keller - that's what lots of blind/deaf dogs are named and I wanted something original. My mom found the name Asha - it means life and hope. She said that's what I deserve. So now my name is Asha. I've never heard it, but sometimes mom my will put her mouth on my neck and say my name. I really like that!

I spent the first couple days mapping out my house. Now, a month later, I can run around and don't run into too many things. I know where the steps are and how much deck I have before I have to step off on to the grass.

The first night at my forever home was a really tough one. I couldn't settle down. I did a lot of circling that night. My mom slept on the floor most of the night with me. I peed and pooped a couple times because I couldn't hold it and didn't understand how things work around here.

I was so hungry and when they put food down for me, I would lay on the floor and bury my head in the bowl. They fed me regularly and eventually I wasn't so ferocious about it. I eat puppy food, but I prefer the food that my brother and sister (Buster and Maggie) get.

I LOVE to play with Maggie and Buster. I like Maggie because she stays still. Buster moves a lot and barks at me. I am deaf, but I can totally hear his bark. It stops me in my tracks and I don't like to play after he does that. I think he is confused by me. He is getting better and we play a lot nicer now.

When my mom and dad weren't home, they put me in a crate...boy did I HATE that. I would scream bloody murder. After a couple days, my belly started to bother me and I had the runs. My parents had to go to work for a couple hours and when my mom got home, I was laying in my kennel and I was COVERED in poop. She took me out onto the deck, put me on her lap and gave me the best bath ever. She wasn't even mad at me. I know she really loves me. Don't tell her, but I liked the bath and I liked how fresh I smelled afterwards!

After that my mom and dad realized that the crate wasn't the best place for me. Now I have the run of the downstairs when they are gone. Buster and Maggie go upstairs in their crates, they like that best. Sometimes I get nervous when my mom and dad aren't there, but they leave stuff that smells like them and lots of toys for me. And really, I just sleep most of the time anyway!! The best part of my day is when I wake up and realize that my mom and dad are home. When I get a whiff of them, I go nuts until I can find them - then I wag my tail while they pet me and tell me what a good girl I am.

After about two weeks, I woke up in the middle of the night and I was having a seizure. After I came out of it, I could tell my mom and dad were really scared. They took me to the emergency room and they did lots of tests on me. I didn't mind because I was meeting all kinds of new people and they all smelled SO good!!! After being there all night, they couldn't find anything wrong with me. My mom and dad say they think I have epilepsy, but need to wait and see if I have another seizure. The seizures don't hurt, I just get really disoriented and tired after I have one. 10 days later, I had another one in the middle of the day. My vet says that if I have another one, I have to start taking medicine.

I still have trouble at night. I was having a lot of anxiety and did a lot of pacing. Just this last week, my mom and dad got some calming spray and also started bring a bowl of my food up to bed. That has made a huge difference. My mom says that I am now active at night instead of anxious. She means that I still wander around, but I'm not upset. I feel much more relaxed and I like that. I've slept through the night a few times and my mom and dad really liked that!! I don't do it most of the time though, usually one of them has to take me out to go potty during the night. Sometimes I am so tired that after I go, I just lay right down in the yard and fall alseep!!

I love to meet new people. I am not afraid of anyone! When I smell someone new, I want to jump on them and say hi! People always ask about me and want to know why my eyes look the way the do and how come I am white. My mom and dad always tell them that I am blind and deaf and how Austrailan Shepherd breeders irresponsibly create animals with problems like mine. People always feel sorry for me and they tell them not to feel sorry, because I'm not sorry. I LOVE my life!!!

My favorite quote is this: "I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself."
I may be deaf and blind and epileptic, but I am not dumb. I am very very smart. I know how to sit, lay down and come. I can walk nicely on a leash. I know where my mom, dad, brothers and sisters are at all times. I can do all the things other dogs can do. I am a puppy and get into just as much trouble as any other puppy would. I do hate to be in a crate, probably more than anything else and I'll bark my head off if you put me in there. But other than that, I am a pretty good doggie.

My dad says that I'm turning into a dog because I'm growing up so fast. Most dogs like me never get a chance at life. People think that because I can't see or hear that I don't have any reason to live. Boy, are they wrong. I have so much fun all the time. I can play and enjoy treats. I don't know what I am missing and so I don't care! I really like to be with my mom and dad. They really love me a lot. They love all of us alot. The others and I know that we are really lucky to be living this life. I can't wait to see what life holds for me. I know that the people at the shelter were worried that I would not find a good home. And I didn't find a good home...I found a great home and I want to live here forever.

10 days

We've had Asha as a part of our family for a little over three weeks (it seems so much longer than that!). We are all having our growing pains, integrating a new little one into the pack, but things have been moving along nicely. She is very smart and that makes it easy to train her. She is, of course, a puppy and does all the same things that seeing/hearing puppies do. She chews, she barks, she pees and poops in the house, she doesn't want to have a harness put on her for a walk and she doesn't sleep through the night.

About two weeks after she came to live with us, Asha had a seizure. I wrote about it in a previous post here . We've just been waiting and hoping that was a one time thing, even though we knew it was not. We had gotten past those first few days of hyper-sensitivity to her every move and were settling down again.

Two nights ago, Asha was so restless. The lack of sleep is getting to us and we are cranky and don't know what to do to get her to settle down. Yesterday I was emailing back and forth with the behaviorist at the humane society where we got Asha. We were talking about ideas to calm her apparent anxiety and restlessness at night. In the middle of an email, my phone rang. It was Trevor - Asha had just had another seizure.

Trevor was working in the garage. When he came back inside, Asha was on the couch - panting really hard. She had peed and pooped and there was drool all over the place. She had the same look on her face as she did after the first seizure just 10 days earlier.

Trevor had a dog, RD, when he was growing up who had seizures. Tragically, RD drowned in their backyard pool, they believe after having a seizure and becoming disoriented. I hate that story, it breaks my heart. RD was about 6 when he died and he had seizures most of his life, so Trevor knows more about this than I do. He knows this is treatable, manageable and not cureable.

After her seizure, Trevor took her to the vet for the once over just to be sure she seemed okay. Asha checked out just fine. By the evening, she was ready for a walk and was playing with the other two just like always.

I have been playing phone tag with the vet. She thinks it may be time to put Asha on some medication since the seizures were pretty close together. I love that little doggie. She is so sweet and soft and loving. She has so much joy and I am just sick about this seizure thing. I want her to have a long, happy, healthy life. So we'll do what we have to do.

By the looks of her, I think she loves living with us....

and we love having her.