I have dreaded the anniversary of today, a year since I was viciously attacked by a dog. It’s been one of the worse years of my life: the pain, the scar, the lack of mobility and the worse—not dancing like usual.

The Joyful Part

On Sunday, July 21, 2024, I went to a neighbor’s house the pay her for cleaning my house. It had been a busy week and I felt like I had neglected her with all our activity. I arrived on Wednesday, July 17, excited to see my niece, her husband and son. We spent Thursday on the ranch together taking pictures and enjoying the land we love so.

On Friday, July 19, 2024, we drove to Denver for a baseball game between the Rockies and the San Francisco Giants. My brother’s family are all Giants’ fans. I also invited the daughter of my best friend to join, and we had a delightful time at the game.

On Saturday, July 20, 2024, my niece and her family headed north to go home and had an accident near Longmont, Colorado. So my brother and I turned around on the south side of Denver and headed up to help. The day ended up being full of disappointments and challenges.

We ended it with my niece and her son coming back to Branson, Colorado. She would drive my brother’s pickup back to Longmont the next day to pick up her husband who had stayed with their damaged car. My niece and her son left early Sunday, July 21, 2024, so I got up early to tell them good-bye. It had all the appearances of being a laid back day, enjoying the ranch and my brother.

Later, my brother came over for breakfast and we mused about the craziness of the last couple days. At that point, I felt like I had put off paying the woman who cleaned for me too long—I neglected to tell my brother my plan of going there thought. If I had told him, he would have warned me about their vicious dog!

The Pain

My brother and I made plans to go out to the ranch and enjoy each other. After he left, I got stuff together and then stopped by the neighbor’s house to pay her. The woman who cleaned my house’s partner was working in a lot north of their place. As I drove by, I waved as I went by, as usual. I didn’t realize she wasn’t home, and I went into the yard anyway. I went up on the porch, knocked several times then prepared to leave. Their two dogs rushed me barking and one grabbed my leg. I screamed and screamed.

Luckily, I had grabbed the gate when they attacked. With a final tug, I felt skin rip and I pulled the gate between me and the barking, snarling dogs. I was pinned between the wall of the house and the gate, safe from the dogs, finally. But I couldn’t get out because the dogs inched closer and closer! Then I screamed the guy’s name who was working north. Finally he heard me and came running and kicked the dogs off.

My brother drove me to the hospital in Trinidad, Colorado—50 miles away— where I got sixteen stitches and a warning from the ER doctor I might have nerve damage.

The Scar

After twelve weeks of working with the Presbyterian Wound Clinic in Albuquerque, New Mexico, the wound healed. Lin, my husband, nursed me through this time, changing bandages and chauffeuring me around because I couldn’t drive because my foot was numb! I hated the scar—I couldn’t look at it, touch it, nothing! It repulsed me! And it hurt!

Then I began several months of physical therapy, and the first therapist asked me if I had been massaging the scar—no way! But finally I could touch it and not be repulsed.

The Lack of Mobility

Because of the nerve damage and the diagnosis of CRPS (Chronic Regional Pain Syndrome), I have been cautious on activity. Plus it hurts! I have pain from my heel to my butt because of damage to the peroneal nerve and sural nerve.

One doctor warned me that if I reinjured my leg again, the pain could jump to the other leg. Oh, my God! I didn’t want that.

Also, I have been on various levels of gabapentin since October, and that has made me unstable on my feet.

During the last few months, I also saw two pain management doctors. The first one was a farce—he never touched me. The second one believed in injections. I had two sets of injections in my ankle and one in my thigh and butt—none of it eased the nerve pain.

 Not Dancing Like Usual

June 2024, Lin and I enjoyed the Colorado State Square and Round Festival. We saw old friends and made new ones and enjoyed the dancing. Excited about a new festival, we had plans to go to Boulder in July to dance to three of our favorite square dance callers. We had to cancel those plans.

Since the dog attack, I’ve done a couple round dances very slowly and deliberately. And I danced two tips at our Advance Workshop in Albuquerque a month or so ago.

If you know me, I’m a dancing fool! This has been so hard not to dance, not to travel, not to see friends from all over the country.

Finally, the day I dreaded!

Yes, I dreaded today and it has passed and I haven’t sobbed endlessly. In fact, I haven’t shed one tear. It’s my life now. I told my acupuncturist last Friday; I’ve usually described the pain as intermittent. Now I realize, it’s there all the time—sometimes a low buzz and other times a throbbing, screaming pain. And now I realize why CRPS is called “the suicide disease” because of the varying levels of pain. That’s my life today. I think the pain is less today—some doctors say it could subside in a year, two years or never. I’m hoping the year mark will be the answer!

---

My Newest Books

---

Buy My Audio Books:

This Tumbleweed Landed

Let Me Tell You a Story 

Hair on Fire: A Heartwarming & Humorous Memoir Audiobook

---

• Facebook
• Twitter
• Pinterest
• Instagram
• LinkedIn
• YouTube