Sometimes it's better to light a flamethrower than curse the darkness

Gary had one of his most sundowning days (sundowning is a term that applies to humans and dogs with dementia, it's too sad for me to skim links enough to find a suitable one so sorry if you don't know what I mean). And nights.

He fell on the stairs again -- not all the way from the top, but while he was trying to go up the stairs, he slipped and tumbled down. It happened in the afternoon, and I was around to monitor him and be kind to him while he was a little dazed. But then it happened again at something like 1:30 in the morning.

Usually he falls asleep in the living room in the evenings, when we're all there, and wakes up some time after we've all gone to bed and comes upstairs to, these days, sleep in my room. This time he seemed to wake up not long after D had gone to bed (which is also pretty normal), so D and I both heard the distinctive sounds of his tumble. D was a little closer/quicker than me, so he's the one who went downstairs to check on Gary. Who I guess was okay but D was worried he'd have a concussion and stuff. Not that it would be easy to tell. Or do anything about it at such an hour. He kept Gary company while Gary settled down from an apparent, very understandable, adrenaline rush. I was still awake when D came upstairs after about two hours, sad that his sleep had been ruined by this since mine was apparently already doomed to be, and if I'd gone downstairs it would have meant at least one of us got some sleep. But I didn't expect D to be downstairs so long, I didn't expect myself to be awake so long... We can't always make perfect decisions.

It was 4 or 5 when I got to sleep. And it was about 8 when I woke up to Gary doing his "I need help" bark. Usually it means he's stuck on the stairs, or furniture, that he's not sure how to get down from. I rushed downstairs -- rushing not because I expected an emergency for him but because I know that once he starts that bark it will not stop and I was desperate not to wake up the others at such an early hour, especially knowing how late D had gotten to bed and that MB was still in the throes of post-ezertional symptom exacerbation from their four days away.

Gary wasn't stuck (which is good; his "I will growl/bark/try to bite if you touch me" rule does extend to us touching him for the express purpose of providing help he has asked for, and that's just a lot to deal with after one of those nights where I felt like I didn't sleep at all); he just needed to go outside for a pee. I let him out and back in again and then as I headed towards the stairs to go back to bed I went close enough to the front door that Gary, as he often does when someone goes near the front door, excitedly anticipated that a walk was about to happen and wouldn't that be a good idea.

In a t-shirt and boxers, barefoot, I did not think that would be a good idea so I went upstairs to get dressed enough to do this. By the time I got back he wasn't interested in a walk any more, but he was pacing and it was clear he wouldn't be okay if I went upstairs. So I resigned myself to starting my day on insufficient sleep: I opened the curtains (at least it was sunny!), I emptied the dishwasher, I had yogurt and orange juice for breakfast.

I'm pretty used to this kind of exhausted start to the day, thanks to my sleep-maintenance insomnia, and a "fake it til you make it" approach normally is reasonably successful for me. But this time it just didn't happen: I was so tired that my body felt like it had been poisoned (it sorta had, of course, but sleep deprivation doesn't always feel like poison and for me if it does that's a sign that it's pretty severe).

It didn't help that Gary still wasn't able to settle. He never stopped slowly moving around -- the bottom floor of the house; he never even seemed to consider the stairs -- and he seemed pretty out of it. Which could have been his own sleep deprivation, it could've been a concussion or other effect of the fall down some stairs, or it could be a more direct signal that his doggy dementia is worsening...perhaps brought on by the fall but just hastening a loss of cognitive function that would happen anyway.

I tried not to dwell on it, and my inability to hold a complete thought in my head due to my own tiredness probably helped me not think about it, but my body was exhibiting all the signs of anxiety that I find so uncomfortable and impossible to ignore (my back and shoulders are still sore from how tightly and uselessly I was tensing them up this morning).

It was a miserable time for me, and a lonely one. Being responsible for an old dog is not for the faint of heart, I always say.

It went on, unchanging, for a period of time I could not determine but must have been two hours or close to it.

D came downstairs eventually, looking about as grim as I felt, and we sat quietly on the sofa for a while. I eventually went upstairs to put something in my room and fell asleep. I slept lightly and had weird dreams thanks to hammering and powerwashing and other outside chores I could hear happening nearby through my open window. But it was still enough to leave me feeling significantly better when I woke up at 1:30. I could finally contemplate having a shower, and showering also made me feel better.

Gary wasn't much changed by the time I got downstairs, except at least he was sleeping. On MB's new special pressure cushion, to hopefully help with their hip and leg pain. They've ended up ordering another one for Gary, because maybe it's just coincidence that he fell asleep there, maybe he just liked it because it smelled like his humans, but we can totally see that it might help Gary's own hip, which has arthritis. And if there's anything we can do for him that only means spending fifteen quid, we're absolutely gonna do that. So that'll be interesting. (If, as we also expect, Gary refuses to sit anywhere where his new cushion is, MB will be able to use it so it's no loss.)

After several more hours he did slowly seem to be more back to his usual self. He ate the treat-food with his meds in it, which help his brain. And maybe whatever it was, sleepiness or concussion or whatever else, started to wear off too. By the time we ate, like 7:30 (no one felt like cooking and it took a while to order burgers and then have them arrive), getting bored and actually playing with a toy, pining for D who was upstairs asleep, and then excited about the food and how it made D appear downstairs.

He ate well, he demanded his usual after-dinner walk (but only once he said it was time, not five minutes earlier when it would have been significantly more convenient for the humans... typical Gary! reassuringly so, today), and after the usual amount of squeaking at us because he thought he had inconsolable problems but was actually just tired, he fell asleep in his usual spot at his usual time of the evening.

We all watched a movie together (American Fiction, which made us all laugh so hard that Gary repeatedly looked up blearily at us in a "who doth disturb my slumber" kind of way, which is adorable) and went upstairs around the same time. As we chatted and did bedtime chores like tooth-brushing, I heard MB greet Gary with just as much brightness and happiness as usual but even more reason to be delighted this time. There wasn't anything physically wrong with his ability to get up and down the stairs, I determined today after careful observation, but he had such a mental block on it that it was like he suddenly lived in a one-story house. The stairs weren't even a consideration.

I can relate -- will I ever go roller skating again? maybe not! -- but it would be both really sad and an incredible nuisance if Gary didn't go upstairs again: he has a little bed in every room (except the bathroom) up here, and he spends a lot of time here: every night in my room these days, and with D and often MB up here during the day time on weekdays, he's often snuggled up in one of those rooms (or sleeping in my room again). I'm accustomed to having to go upstairs now if I want to see anyone when I finish work!

Things like Gary whining at us to produce D when he could be napping next to him (something they both love) seemed like an unpleasant future. I hadn't really let myself contemplate it too much, hoping it would just be for today until his brain sorted itself out a little more. But you never know, do you! And I always think that What if this is just how things are now? is one of the most frequent, most tiring, and saddest thoughts that comes through my head, as a human that an old dog belongs to. I try to balance preparing for the possibility with not catastrophizing. Some days it's easier than others.

But anyway, like I say, Gary suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs and hopefully after all these words you know how happy that made me.

This ordinary thing, which I never take for granted anyway (his little shuffling noises on his bed are so cozy to me; even when he wakes me up with big coughing fits or whining at me (which may be because he wants me to let him out or may be that he wants pets or may be a secret third thing I don't understand at all, I just know that it's usually helped by me speaking to him, saying his name and telling him he's a good boy and trying to reassure him that it's okay to go to sleep)), seems especially lovely and magical tonight.

I hope you've had less exhausting days. But just as lovely and magical as this.