The Global Slowmad

We have started a new chapter in the story of our lives.

We moved Alex into his forever (for now) apartment in Oklahoma City a few weeks ago. He started medical school last week and will participate in his white coat ceremony this weekend. We have not published anything on the blog recently because we have been trying to make the most of the time we have left with him and our aging dog. Priorities.

It is a happy-sad situation. We are thrilled to see Alex doing something he loves (he really enjoyed his first week and is even the proud owner of a shiny new stethoscope), but we already miss having him around. We appreciate the time we’ve had with him but realize it’s unlikely we’ll all live under the same roof again. Alex is in a good place, but he is going to have a lot on his plate over the next several years and there is no way of knowing right now where he will end up or what specialty he will pursue. And we certainly don’t have much useful advice to impart about surviving medical school. There is an existential finality that accompanies the realization that our job as parents, while technically not over, will never be quite the same.

As for the dog, Echo is hanging in there – albeit just barely. The vet informed us several months ago that he only has a few months left. His mind is still sharp, but his lifelong battle with Addison’s Disease and his advancing age (he turned 11 in December) have taken a toll on his body. Naturally, we have deployed a comprehensive senior canine maintenance routine. In addition to his regular medications, we are providing daily physical therapy, massage and structured play time; harnesses, braces and athletic tape; anti-slip socks on his back feet and textured stickers on his front paw pads; rugs and runners all over the house; acupuncture and physical therapy sessions; regular Adequan shots and a daily hyaluronic acid booster to maintain the fluid in his joints; a variety of over-the-counter hip and joint supplements; and a daily Ursolyx chewable to complement a high-protein diet (including a hard-boiled egg every morning and a sardine with every meal) to help maintain muscle. For so long as he seems to be happy and relatively pain-free, we will stick with it.

Maintaining Echo’s routine is nearly a full-time job. He struggles to get up from the floor and prefers to have someone available to help out if needed. He frequently trips and falls, which has led to him getting stuck in awkward positions and locations. He still loves to go outside, but play time rarely involves more than a couple of tosses of the tennis ball. We bought a wagon to take on our neighborhood walks so he can ride along with us after his legs invariably give out on him. (It’s good exercise for Stuart to lug around a 70-pound dog anyway.) And we put him in a harness with handles so we can lift him into the car. Echo has become even more attached to us since we returned from our world travels and gets anxious if we are away from home for more than a few hours. He also has developed a strong expectation of routine in his old age and is quite vocal when things don’t happen on his schedule. The whimpers crescendo into a full-on bark if we are slow to respond when it’s time for a potty break. He’s the Larry David of canines. We’re basically just running a highly unprofitable dog hospice.

We hope to leave the “no travel” era behind and return to slow travel soon enough, but we’re not in a rush. In addition to the Echo situation of understandably indefinite duration, we need to get ourselves healthy again too. It’s been quite a process.

Darla has been seeing a cadre of medical specialists in a valiant attempt to relieve chronic back pain from a couple of slipped discs that began bothering her last fall. Physical therapy has been complicated by the fact that they are slipping in opposite directions, meaning exercises that would be beneficial for one tend to make the other worse. It doesn’t help matters that she has a congenital labrum tear and some residual neck/nerve issues that will be getting their own MRI soon. She has become increasingly frustrated with her inability to work in the garden and resume her normal Pilates classes, but the most challenging part is that she is unable to stand, walk up steep inclines or sit in a chair for an extended period without pain. This makes concerts, road trips and even dining out – our usual respites from the oppressive Oklahoma summer heat – quite difficult. On the plus side, although progress has been painfully (pun intended) slow, it is finally happening.

Stuart would tell you his biggest problem is the tension between his insatiable wanderlust and the level of effort required merely to leave his own house right now. He feels – and probably is – as healthy as he’s ever been, but his doctors seem intent on running a never-ending series of cardio tests and actively recalibrating his heart medications anyway. We’ve learned it’s apparently more important to manage cholesterol if you already have a serious blockage. Unfortunately, he now has officially failed the entire class of statins, and getting insurance to approve him for an injectable PCSK9 inhibitor has proven to be a frustrating process. (Not to mention that anything requiring a weekly trip to the infusion clinic is incompatible with a nomadic lifestyle.) In the meantime, we learned from the week he spent wearing a heart monitor that his ventricles misfire about 5% of the time. It’s probably nothing to worry about, but that and a couple of near-fainting episodes have prompted a change in his ACE inhibitor too.

No disrespect to Alex’s chosen career, but we’re getting a little sick of doctors.

So that’s the update. Sorry to disappoint those who were hoping to read about more globe-trekking adventures, but perhaps we will feel like writing and/or start traveling again soon. (Alex and Stuart took a couple of short trips this spring, but Darla has yet to make it beyond OKC.) For now, we are making the most of our Tulsa time (including some dirt track racing, a tuna feast and backyard hawk spotting) and just wanted to share why you haven’t heard much from us lately and might not for a while. We are still processing one loss. The house will be even quieter soon. We may need a little time to sketch out the next chapter in our lives.