The Dentist… not an experience I wish to repeat

As regular readers will know last Friday I had the dentist for a tooth extraction. It wasn’t a very pleasant experience and for that reason I am stating now

if you are fearful of the dentist or have a dental phobia please skip this week’s blog post.

I would hate for anyone to read this and then never go to the dentist again. So I am warning you it wasn’t pretty but there were some humorous bits as well.

I had been pretty wound up about this trip to the dentist from the Tuesday of the week before. Granted I asked for the extraction as I couldn’t stand the thought of having to listen to the drill going and the fear that at any moment the local anaesthetic will have worn off and I will be able to feel everything. The night before the appointment I decided that I would take 5mg of diazepam to ensure I slept. Fear of any kind of medical appointments can leave me struggling to sleep for up to a week prior. Thankfully I had been able to sleep over the previous 9 nights, as we were sorting stuff out due to the car. I slept well but woke up with my usual Diazepam hangover I get when I take the full dose. Of late I have been cutting them in half as they work just as well when I am struggling to sleep.

My appointment was for 9.35am, as we now get up ridiculously early due to Dembe ( although saying that he slept until 6.10am this morning had his breakfast and then slept until 8am – unheard of and what a luxury!) it felt like it was hours away. At 8.45am I took 5mg of Diazepam, now I never take Diazepam during the day, maybe in the evening when my back is in spasm and I would never take the full dose of 5mg. I also took some oramorph so it was in my system and would hopefully help with the pain. By the time we were travelling to the Dentist surgery at 9.20am I was off my face! 

I actually felt like I had drunk several gin and tonics on an empty stomach. My face was numb and all I wanted to do was go to sleep. Jay dropped me off, I prefer doing the dentist alone as then I don’t have to pretend to be brave to an audience. He was going to take Dembe to the beach. I checked myself in and made my way to the waiting room. Eternally grateful it was on the ground floor as by now there was no way I was ever going to manage to do steps by this point. Putting one foot in front of the other without falling over was enough of a challenge. Thankfully the waiting room was empty and I wasn’t going to have to pretend I wasn’t off my face. It was like one of those situations where you are having pretend you are sober and the harder you try the drunker you look.

It was just as well the Diazepam had rendered me incapable of doing much at all because I was late going in for my appointment. around 30 minutes. At any other time where I hadn’t taken Diazepam I would have just run away claiming a prior engagement for not being able to hang around. By the time I got into the consulting room I was floating, I knew I was at the Dentist but I didn’t really give a shit, which is the complete opposite of how I normally am.

As I walked in the Dentist asked me how I was, I laughed and said ” I’m floating” he looked a little confused so I reminded him that he gad previously advised me to take Diazepam for any interventions he was going to carry out. He started laughing, normally I am so uptight I can barely speak. I wasn’t looking forward to the procedure but the overwhelming sense of fear and need to get the hell out of there had gone.

I reminded him – god knows how that I really didn’t need any detail during the procedure, just a high level overview at all times. It is the detail that makes my fear spiral out of control. 

Now my memory of events is a little hazy, I am having to look back at stuff I wrote on social media whilst still under the influence to remember exactly what happened. I know it was horrific and I am still in pain. My gum where the tooth was removed is black and blue and I have only been able to eat solid food from last night 4 days after the extraction. I do remember being rather amusing although it may have been only me that was amused.

Initially my Dentist had a look at my tooth again. I know that he said that it had disintegrated further from just over a week ago. I do have a terrible habit of unconsciously clenching my teeth when stressed and obviously over the last week with having to find a new car and this appointment looming I had probably been clenching more than normal. The tooth to give you a basic idea is on the right upper jaw at the back 7 I believe is its number. It was filled a very long time ago, due to EDS my teeth have narrow fissures which mean they are much more prone to needing filled. Had anyone realised I had EDS as a child they would have sealed all my adult teeth as they came through to prevent caries ( decayed areas). Instead now I am left with teeth that are rapidly losing their enamel and are more filling than tooth. Anyway I digress, the tooth being removed just to complicate things had also fractured. So I one side of the tooth stood the filling and on the other sat the really crappy tooth.

The dentist then gave me two injections one either side of the tooth. The one on the outside of the gum wasn’t too bad but the one on the inside of my gum near the roof of my mouth really stung. Whilst he was waiting for the local anaesthetic to take effect he then did a quick clean of my teeth. I had to stop him once as it was sore, on my bottom jaw at the front but I can see how much better they are looking for it. Of course on the side where he had done the injection he could do whatever he wanted as I could no longer feel anything. As he knew he would have a limited time in which to work as I tend to burn through local really quickly, as soon as I was numb he set to work.

This was really weird, the dentist moved the chair really high up, so I was face to face with him and I was sat bolt up right. I closed my eyes at this point as I find it really uncomfortable staring into someones face whilst they try to rip your tooth from the gum. I have no idea what kind of implement he was using, I am guessing some kind of pliers, as I could feel the end of them against my lower lip. As he was pulling away the pressure was immense. I felt like my cheekbone was going to shatter and my TM ( temporomandibular joint – the hinge joint of your jaw either side of your face in front of your ears) was going to dislocate. I put up with it for so long and then I grabbed his arm and explained that the TM joint was moving beyond a normal range of motion and felt like it was being pushed to the point of dislocation. Let alone the feeling of pressure in my cheek bone. He wasn’t impressed and said “you are going to feel some pressure” I responded that I understood that but I was very aware of the fact that it wasn’t going to take much more for the joint to pop. Reluctantly I agreed that he could continue. He started up again and it was really quite clear that this approach wasn’t going to work. My tooth was claiming squatters rights and a different approach was needed.

As my tooth was quite fragile due to the fracture in it he decided to put a band around it to try and maintain its integrity and to stop it fracturing into tiny pieces. It didn’t work as although all I could feel was pressure there was the sound of a tooth exploding and a wedge of tooth dropped into the back of my throat. I tapped his arm for him to allow me to sit up and then I spat out what had dropped into the back of my throat. It was a chunk of the filling and a piece of tooth. What shocked me though was the sheer amount of blood, the dental nurse had done a good job using the suction device as I hadn’t tasted or felt any blood at all. I had however missed the sink bit when spitting and the dentists pristine white unit and floor now resembled a bare knuckle boxing ring. I apologised profusely for making such a mess. I then grabbed another piece of tooth out of my mouth and loudly declared “the tooth fairy isn’t going to accept this shit is she?” to which both the dentist and the dental nurse laughed. Probably more at the fact the longer I was in the chair the more drunk I was sounding.

As the tooth had disintegrated in my mouth the dentist decided he was divide up the rest of the tooth and remove it piece by piece. This meant the use of the dreaded drill. I started shaking a lot and I had zero control over it. The dentist asked me if I was ok but as he had his hand in my moth at the time I could only make a weird sort of noise that was accepted as a yes. The smell was disgusting, a weird burning smell. I spent the whole time gripping the armrests praying that the local anaesthetic was going to hold. I knew that this deep into the tooth there was a high chance if it was to wear off it would be like a scene from Marathon Man.

More moves with the pliers and more blood. I was starting to swallow it now, which was making me feel sick and slowly the tooth  came out in pieces but it was only the tooth that was visible above the gum line. The roots themselves were refusing to budge. The shakes were getting worse, at about this point I was lying there thinking I wish I had just had the bloody crown done. I had innocently assumed that the tooth would pop out without issue and now 20 minutes in we were looking at playing a game of dig out the roots. My heart rate well that must have been close to the 200’s. I was shaking like I was plugged into the electric mains. My heart sank when he informed me he was going to have to dissect the root in my gum using the drill. Again the fear was that the local anaesthetic would have worn off and I was going to be in pain.

I have to say at this point my dentist was really good. Every time he went to use the drill before touching me he would blow cold air onto the area he was going to work on to check it was still numb before he started. It wasn’t until it was all over and I was sat up talking to him that I clocked that he had a syringe primed with extra local anaesthetic in case it had been needed. I finally felt that after all this time he was listening to me.

I tried really hard to get the shakes under control but there was nothing I could do. The taste of blood the smell of the roots of the tooth being  broken up into pieces. I heard him ask the nurse for the root forceps or something similar. I had to ask to sit up again as whilst the nurse had been getting the tool for him a whole load of blood and bits of root / tooth was sat on the back of my throat choking me. Again I was a little taken back at the amount of blood. I know it was mixed with saliva but the blood was really bright red and thick, so was probably 90% blood and 10% saliva. I really didn’t fancy my prospects of being able to get off the dentists chair without fainting.

By the time it was over I had been in the dentists chair for over 35 minutes. I still couldn’t stop shaking. The dentist showed me the root’s of the tooth he had removed it was over an inch long no wonder the fucking thing hadn’t wanted to come out. It had also been twisted around the other side the root. Still under the influence of Diazepam I said “that’s a fucking monster” I do try to limit my profanity when in polite company but it felt right in the moment. It also noticed there was blood all over the instrument tray and all over his gloves. It is a good job that I don’t faint at the sight of blood.

I have to say this was the most violent and traumatic tooth extraction I have ever gone through. At the end of the procedure the Dentist told me that at one point he thought he was going to have to send me to hospital as he didn’t think he was going to be able to get the roots out. I am not surprised because I think I went into shock during it and that was what was causing me to shake so violently. Plus the sight of all that blood, repeatedly.

At the time of talking to the dentist I was clamping down on the gauze they give you to apply pressure to the wound. After five minutes he checked that it had stopped bleeding which it had but he gave me a spare gauze to take home. Just as well because 10 minutes after being home my mouth was full of blood and I then had to sit for 40 minutes with the gauze clamped against the extraction site to stop the bleeding. When I finally removed it, it was soaked all the way through.

The pain really started to kick in a few hours after I had got back home and my face started to swell. It took every pain medication in the house taken at regular intervals to get the pain under control. My TMJ also flared up with pain so moving my jaw was incredibly painful. For the next few days I was washing my mouth out with salt water every 2 hours. I felt so sick for hours afterwards due to the amount of blood I had swallowed during the course of the surgery. Its not an experience I want to repeat and I think I maybe referred to hospital for the wisdom tooth to be extracted after that debacle.

Its now Wednesday and I am still in pain at the extraction site. The pain hasn’t got any worse and it is localised just at the site rather than what it was like on Friday where the whole right side of my face hurt. I think due to the EDS it is going to take longer to heal. If it hasn’t settled down by next Monday I will give the Dentist’s surgery a ring as it would have been well over a week since the tooth was removed. I have had a quick look inside my mouth and there is quite a bit of bruising so I imagine that is contributing to the pain.

The good news is that on the same day of the tooth extraction Jay picked up our new 2nd hand car. I didn’t get to go out in it until Saturday but it is lovely and very comfortable. Dembe has given it his seal of approval and covered it in long yellow hair!

***

About an hour after I finished writing this post my mouth really began to hurt. It was hurting all along my cheek bone, up into my eye and nothing was touching it. I waited until 11.50am to ring the dentist as I was wondering if it was psychosomatic but as the pain was increasing I knew it wasn’t. Finally the dentist surgery rang me at 14.30 after I had rung them again just before 2pm to find out why I hadn’t heard from them – the pain was increasing and I just wanted there to be an end in sight. They asked me to come straight down.

Even thought this was an emergency appointment I was seen straight away by a different dentist than my own. He confirmed that the blood clot had been lost from the extraction site and that bone and nerves were now exposed. He had to give it a good clean out with cold water and then picked out all the food debris that had got in it. He said it was showing no signs of infection but he took an x-ray and they will contact me if they find anything. 

The extraction site has now been packed with iodine gauze – which tastes grim but has reduced the pain I was in enormously. I have got to try to keep it in situ for the next few days. Then resume the hot salty water rinsing. 

I knew this morning when I woke up feeling exceptionally tired and rough that something wasn’t right but just couldn’t put my finger on it. So glad that I have been, the only time in my life I was happy to visit the dentist!

Advertisements

Adulting

Well it seems that the universe isn’t done with fraying my nerves. 24 hours after last week’s blog pots was published we found out that our car was in need of some expensive repairs. The repairs were going to cost more than the car was worth – just the cambelt change we had been advised would cost us £400 with the best case scenario. On top of that we needed to get the mid section of the exhaust repaired as Jay had gone over a stick or stone and that had removed the exhaust from its mountings. It is at times like this I really can’t abide this adulting shit. I wish sometimes that someone else would swoop in and fix it all but then that would mean I wasn’t an adult at all. At 45 I need to realise the days of someone swooping in have long gone.

Being nervous about my tooth extraction went out the window. Instead Jay and I had come to the realisation that as much as we loved the car we have that this was probably a slide into it becoming a money pit. With one of the hospital consultants I see an hours drive away we need a reliable car. Other than trips to the hospital we do very little mileage. But I can’t be sat at the side of the road waiting for the breakdown service. 

I did a quick search online – this has been how I have found the last two cars. I thought I had found something ideal a silver Peugeot 207 Estate. It looked in good nick, nothing on there was screaming out to me. So rang the garage and this is where its gets bizarre. This garage was advertising on several well known sites yet when the phone was answered it was answered with just a “hello” not a “Hello XXX garage”. Initially I thought I had dialled the wrong number, so I asked if I had rung the garage, to which there was a bit of a pause and the guy at the end of the phone said yes. I then proceeded to ask him if the car was still for sale and if it had a recent cambelt change, full service history. The answer I got was yes the car was still for sale but he didn’t know about the cambelt or where the paperwork for the car was. The bloke sounded strange but I put it down to maybe he just wasn’t the full shilling. I should have taken a breath and realised how dodgy this all sounded. I mean a garage who answer the phone without telling you the name of the business, a car for sale ( and they only had 4 advertised on all the sites) and he didn’t know where the paperwork was. However I was stressed, I wasn’t thinking straight and we needed a car. Jay was dispatched by Taxi to the garage.

Whilst Jay was on route something was nagging at me about the car – my brain had finally engaged. So I did a background check on the cars history. Its cost me 50p and I could look up 5 different cars should I want to. What I found out concerned me, the car had not been on the road since 2017 ( which would mean an 8 year old car in 2017 hadn’t been able to be sold). It had failed its 2017 MOT and the list of fails and advisories were shocking. Ok I admit I had to google what half of them meant but even I knew a sub-frame failure wasn’t good. I messaged Jay and told him to come back. He messaged me back saying they hadn’t been able to find the garage – another bizarre thing, as the guy on the phone had told me the full address was on the website. However Google Maps had never heard of this garage. Thirty quid lighter and very stressed Jay got home with a migraine. He had to sit outside in the cold for a while, whilst I got him some pain killers and anti-sickness medication. He really did look rough.

So back to the computer I went, our options were being dictated by what was nearby and what boot size the car was as I have a mobility scooter and a wheelchair that I need to be able to put in the back. Most cars other than estates and people carriers just don’t have that kind of space. Just when I was about to cry with frustration I discovered a small garage 12 miles away that had a Renault Grande Scenic for sale, this was the next model up from what we currently drive so we knew the boot space was going to be ideal. I showed Jay the photos and I then rang the garage. This time I was told the name of the place I was ringing, which was a good sign! I then had a chat about the car and asked if the cambelt had been changed. The guy said no but it would be changed before we bought it. 

I did another background check it was 22 days without an MOT and probably about the same for car tax. I looked through its MOT history it had passed it’s last MOT with no advisories ( for those of you in the USA etc who are unfamiliar with the UK system cars have to be checked every year by a garage after they are 3 years old. This is to check it is safe and its emissions are compliant with the law. Advisories are things the garage notes that tells you although it didn’t fail the MOT on those points they will need repairs before your next MOT.) It had failed MOT’s in the past but all the work needed to ensure it passed and all the advisories had also been addressed. 

The problem was we had been advised that our Cambelt could go at any moment and we were only using the car now for essential travel. Where we needed to go was out in farming country and was down tiny single track roads. Should the Cambelt go out there we would effectively be up a certain creek without a certain paddle. Thankfully my parents had text me to let me know that they were up at their caravan ( about 3 miles away from us) so I rang them and explained the problem. They came to the rescue with my dad taking us over to the garage to have a look at the car. We took Dembe with us and he was such a good boy, as he isn’t brilliant in the car as he can whine a bit but he barely made a sound.

As we pulled up the the garage I could see that the owner had pulled the car out onto the tiny forecourt for us. Believe me I have travelled an hour to see a car at a garage in the past and found it at the back of the lot hemmed in by other cars despite them knowing we wanted a test drive! So that was another tick in the box. We had a look at the car, it was perfect for us. The boot was enormous and technically it is a 7 seater as there are two folded down seats ( completely flat ) in the boot. The car is big enough to take Dembe’s crate and my mobility scooter un-assembled. My mobility scooter comes apart so it can fit in the boot of a car. 

As we were happy with the car the deposit was paid and now we play the waiting game. The car needs an MOT and whatever work needs done for it to pass, if it needs any. It will be having a full service, the cambelt changed and the rear drivers side passenger window fixed. It’s an electric window which isn’t working, not that we open the rear windows with Dembe in the back. 

I am now going stir crazy as although Jay is still using our current car to take Dembe up to the common for his walks, I am not going with him as if the car breaks down I can’t walk home. I don’t have the ability or strength to walk should that happen. So I am currently going stir crazy as I haven’t left the house since Friday afternoon. Normally I go out of the house in the car about 5 times a week. That drive out onto the common, even though I just sit in the car, keeps me sane. It gives me something different to look at. I am at the point now where I just can’t wait to get outside. Of course this week I had a load of appointments my hospital appointment was booked for tomorrow so that has been cancelled. I was supposed to be at physio today but again its been cancelled due to not wanting to drive the car that far. The only appointment that is still going ahead as planned is my dentist appointment Friday for my tooth extraction. If we don’t have our new ( 2nd hand car) here by then I will take a taxi. 

Whilst sorting out the replacement car I ignored the fact that I had a UTI brewing, which caused me loads of pain over the weekend and I am only just feeling back to normal now. Thankfully I already had antibiotics in the house so as soon as I realised it wasn’t just an irritated bladder I started taking them. So Saturday afternoon I ended up having to go to bed as I felt so ill.

So we are on the countdown now to getting the car, I just can’t wait to get outside and see something other than my home and the garden!

what’s a cambelt?

Solace in creativity

Last week I wrote of my guilt at being happy, although I received lots of supportive comments, my emotions are still all over the place. The last week or so I have cried everyday over Mollie, Frankie and Willow. I think that is why I have been trying to occupy every minute of every day lately through some sort of creative endeavour or to get out of the house, so I can’t sit and brood.

I am beyond exhausted, last week Jay was on holiday and we spent the week catching up on jobs that have probably been outstanding for 12-24 months. Obviously I am very limited in what I can do and with Dembe ( our nearly 16 week old yellow Labrador pup) it is very difficult to do things together. We made a massive dent on the list of jobs that need done but as anyone who owns a house will tell you, one job soon multiplies and becomes another 4.

We have sorted out our bathroom, its been in a state of almost done for around 10 years I kid you not. Little jobs needing done but neither of us having the energy or inclination to get it completed. I finally cracked and decided a week before Jays holiday enough was enough and it would get completed. Initially it was just that the grout and silicone sealant would be redone. That however has evolved into the bathroom being redecorated – overdue as I believe it was last done possibly 5 years or more ago. Which then means that before the walls are painted the woodwork gets repainted. So the thing spirals. All because I can’t spend any free time doing nothing because the minute I do the sadness overwhelms me.

I have been working hard on the creative side of things as well. For a while I didn’t want to do anything, I didn’t know if I would ever be able to do anything again. Both days that the dogs health suddenly declined I was sat at my embroidery machine. I blamed myself for not paying them enough attention. To not sew or give myself a  creative outlet was a way of punishing myself. Because as I stated in last week’s post I love to make myself feel guilty.

So I thought I would share my makes with you. I am limited with how much I can type this week as my shoulder (right) is grinding away and popping out, my wrists and fingers are also playing me up. So typing is uncomfortable.

I have been making this one for a friends granddaughter. This will get turned into a cushion at some point over the next few days, depending on when my shoulders and wrists / fingers decide to cooperate.

I’m not happy with either the hedgehog or the sheep as I rushed the hooping and as a result they have puckered. However these two will be turned into cushions for our home and I was desperate to see how this design stitched out.

I love the highland Cows design, this was from the same Etsy seller who designed the sheep and the hedgehog. This one will be a cushion for us. I am toying with putting this design on one of my blank sweatshirts.

 

 

The Charlotte cushion is a Christmas present for my niece – you probably think I am bonkers but I like to work well in advance in case my health suddenly declines. That way I don’t feel stressed out in December trying to make lots of gifts to a deadline of when Jay will drop them down to our relatives.

The owl Cushion – I bought this design around Christmas time. Due to the dogs passing I never got the opportunity to stitch it out. So I had a go a few weeks ago. I am really pleased with how it turned out. 

The Evie cushion was for a friends Granddaughter. This will be the last one I stitch out of this design as it has been poorly digitised. Every time I stitch it out I have problems in the same place. I have invested in a new unicorn design now!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I made a job lot of doorstops, many of these will be gifted during the year or at Christmas. These doorstops have washable covers as the bottom has an opening that has velcro to fasten it. Inside I have used cat litter ( clean obviously) to weigh it down. I place the cat litter inside a ziplock bag and also use an elastic band so it has two forms of closures to stop any leakage! I enjoyed making these door stops, it made a nice change and was a challenge for me after making so many items the same on the run up to Christmas and with making cushions.

As I haven’t posted a photo of Dembe on here for a few weeks, I thought I would share this with you. 

This is me and the little man. He sleeps every night with his head on my pillow. Most nights his nose is touching my head or face. I love feeling his breath against me. He is such a loving little chap. Without him I’d have never made it through the last 10 weeks.

The guilt at being happy

Those of you who read last week’s blog post will be happy to know there have been no further Sula Drop “incidents” since the one described by last week’s post.

Guilt is something I deal with on a daily basis. I feel guilty about most things. I feel guilty that I can’t do as much as I used to in the house due to my medical conditions. I feel consumed with guilt that our lives haven’t gone the way that we had planned them to go. At the moment I am being eaten up with guilt because for the first time in week’s I feel happy. I worry that people will think that I didn’t love Frankie and Mollie or didn’t love them enough because now I love Dembe.

I catch myself sometimes in a negative cycle of self talk telling myself that it is not possible to love another dog so much already if I truly loved the other dogs. I know that what is amazing amongst human beings is our capacity to love even when in the depths of despair. The love I feel for Dembe is different to the love I had for Travis, for Frankie, for Mollie or for Willow. Each of those dogs I loved differently but with the same intensity. I never felt the guilt of having Frankie and Willow after Travis passed away because they were born in the house, although Frankie was sold and came back to us. So I don’t get why I am struggling with the guilt of having Dembe?

Is the guilt stimulated by the fact we had to go out and buy him from another breeder? Rather than him be born in our spare room? I feel it acutely at times. Just looking at Dembe on occasion will reduce me to tears because looking at him reminds me of what we have lost. 3 dogs in the space of 55 weeks. That is a lot of loss to deal with, on top of the human losses we also suffered. 

I also feel guilty because my anxiety levels have dropped since Mollie and Frankie passed away. I knew that they weren’t long for this world even though you hope in your heart they will last just a little bit longer. Frankie had rapidly declined over the space of the 12 months and I am now pretty sure that the inner ear infection Mollie had in the summer was her first stroke. Purely because the symptoms the day before she passed were exactly the same.  Both dogs were spoilt rotten in the last 12 months of their lives. They really enjoyed themselves. We had hoped Mollie would have a good six months after Frankie passed but it wasn’t to be and that breaks my heart. In the days after Frankie passed I made such a fuss of her, plied her with sausages like they were the elixir of youth. I feel guilty that perhaps I didn’t see how much she was grieving for her son. The vet certainly felt that the grief was a contributing factor in her catastrophic stroke. 

My anxiety levels have dropped also because Frankie was having some quite bad mobility issues. At night I would never sleep very deeply because I was always listening out for him in case he fell or he couldn’t manage getting back upstairs after going down for a drink or to let himself out into the garden. Because Dembe is younger he doesn’t get to roam around the house at night or even during the day. He can’t yet manage the stairs so he is confined to my room at night by a baby gate.

I would talk about the day that we wouldn’t have the Weimaraner’s anymore and it always seemed like some mythical date in the future. Even though I could see them ageing and losing condition I must’ve practised cognitive dissonance because on another level I couldn’t believe we would ever lose them. They would live forever in our little bubble, being loved and returning that love tenfold.

Now I get anxious about loving Dembe too much in such a short space of time. I still look at him at times and have to remind myself that he is mine. I wouldn’t be without him, he is a devoted pup who loves Jay and I equally. Today at a friend’s place Jay was training Dembe in the garden and Dembe was so totally focused on him. All this little dog wants to do is please us, be loved and be fed the occasional piece of cocktail sausage when he has been a good boy. If we had tried to do the training with the Weims they’d have put two fingers up and walked away. We loved the Weims for that, they were so independent, free thinkers, the hooligans we used to nickname them – in a loving way. The relationship we have with Dembe is so totally different, he lives to please and be told he is a good boy.

He has a lot of traits like the Weims had, he is almost like a mish mash of all their characters. He reminds me a lot of Frankie the way he is such a mummy’s boy, the way he herds me ( nudging the back of my leg with his nose) when following me into another room. The way he has to be with me the majority of the time, although Frankie would have never climbed into the shower with me, Dembe does this frequently. The girls however would regularly poke their heads around the side of the shower when I was in there. Willow was the most adventurous and would come in and have a drink! She was the water baby out of the three, she would run to the pond on the common and dive straight in for a swim. She always looked like a human when she was swimming due to the way she held her head out of the water. I always imagined her with one of those 1970’s  swimming caps covered in flowers. 

I am glad that we decided to change breeds after the Weimaraners.  Weims will always have a special place in my heart, too many years involved with them not to. I have owned 4 plus 18 puppies were bred from Mollie over two litters. Life without them is strange. However my eyes have been opened to the world of Labrador’s now and although I know each dog has a different character, I love Dembe’s character. I can’t get my head around the differences in breeds of dogs. I was quite ignorant before and just thought all dogs were pretty much the same. We have gone from hose pipe / shower averse Weims to a dog we can’t stop getting wet at the slightest opportunity. In the shower no problem I’ll join you mum, got the hosepipe on ? I need to chase that and bite the water. He has us in stitches every day.

I guess guilt is just part of my makeup, I have always been this way. I feel guilty about stuff I haven’t done. I think it comes from a sense of always being in the wrong, even though that is untrue I always felt that way. I always doubt any decisions I make for fear of getting it wrong. Now I am trying to break that habit, I know the guilt is just a stage of grief. I have been through it with every dog I have ever lost. With Travis for years I felt guilty that we had given up on him – despite being told his kidneys were failing and that he had less than 12 weeks to live. I felt the same way about Willow, not noticing how poorly she was quickly enough – neither of us did and the vet told us how stoic our dogs were and didn’t show any signs of illness until at death’s door. I felt guilty after Willow had a closed Pyometra despite taking her to the vets in the preceding weeks saying that there was something wrong with her. I felt the same guilt when she had breast cancer, even though the vet told us he was surprised that we had felt such a small lump.

See how the guilt eats at me. Even when I make the right decisions for my dogs or discover something early the guilt starts that I could have been better, spotted it sooner. It is a pattern I am trying to break but its hard when this has been your thinking pattern for over 40 years.

Although I was terrified of what people would say about us buying  Dembe so soon after Mollie & Frankie passed away, even though I knew it was absolutely necessary to preserve Jay and my sanity. Unless you have lost two dogs within a week you aren’t in a place where you can judge. You never know what you would do until you were in that position. I now no longer care what people say about it. 100% it was the right thing for us. 

Whilst I struggle with the guilt of loving him so much,  I am a work in progress. I am learning to deal with the guilt of being happy again.