Life, NF, and 2020

Where has this year gone? In January, I started a new job, and as I was getting my sea legs with Vocational Rehabilitation, Florida, I went into quarantine. I think I can speak for the majority of the world population when I say that this year has been unfathomable. COVID has wreaked havoc across the world, killing millions in its trail. I am blessed that I have not lost anyone in my inner circle due to this virus; however, 2020 has not been free of death for me. 

Towards the end of January, my friend Kathy passed away due to NF complications; her death shook me to my core. It was the first time that I saw my mortality; for the first time, I realized that NF could one day be the cause of my death. 

In September, one of my closest friends lost the love of her life. He was only 30. He was a healthy man by all accounts, but he had a pulmonary aneurysm one night in early September and did not recover. An autopsy later revealed that he died due to heart failure. Two weeks after his death, I received a phone call from Colombia; Uchi, the woman that had been my nana, was in a medically induced coma. She had suffered a pulmonary aneurysm and two seizures within hours. Doctors ran multiple tests, but there was no brain activity. She died two days after the aneurysm. I decided not to share the death of Uchi with my friend, she was mourning herself, and I could not burden her with my loss. 

I most recently experienced the loss of my fourteen-year-old boxer, Ki-Bo. On November 28th, I said good-bye to my most loyal companion. A month after his passing, I still expect him to be at the door when I get home. I miss hearing his snores. I miss his licks and wet-nose kisses. I miss his head on my lap and his puppy-eyes digging into my soul. Ki-Bo, helped heal my broken heart after my dad left and kept me company as I recovered from surgeries. He forced me to get out of the house and go on walks when I was depressed. Ki-Bo had the most fabulous happy dance, those that were lucky to witness his wiggle and four-legged jumps know what I am describing. He will forever be my fur-angel. 

COVID altered many plans, for example, my trip to Paris, France, to visit my best friend in September. My trip has forcefully been postponed until this pandemic no longer is. I also planned on taking the GRE in October, but a week before my exam, the test center closed due to COVID. Now I am taking the test in March 2021. I am not too bombed about my exam being rescheduled; I actually need the extra study days. However, I have not taken advantage of this gift that COVID has given me; instead, I find myself with what I have named twenty-twentyities. Do you recall seniorities? Well, same concept but for the entire year of 2020. 

Despite everything that happened this year, I have many reasons to be grateful. I choose to hold on to those instead of gravitating towards the moments of 2020 that shattered me. It's the same concept I utilize when dealing with NF. I know that this concept is hard to grasp for many but think about it, by actively choosing to look at all the good in your life, life becomes a little easier; this does not mean that you ignore the hurt and pain; it just means that you acknowledge it but choose not to make it the center of your life. 

All I have seen in social media is how eager people are for 2020 to end. However, when the clock strikes midnight, nothing changes. Time is relative, and unless you actively change, 2021 is and can be just like 2020. We are currently living through a pandemic, and despite having multiple vaccines, it does not change the fact that COVID is alive and, for lack of a better word, thriving. The only way that this virus will weaken is if we all play our parts and consciously make an effort to wear masks and keep gatherings small. I do not want to get political, but this year has highlighted how racially driven this country is and how racism is a pandemic itself in the US. There is so much that needs to improve and change for humanity to continue because we will self-destruct at this rate if nothing changes. 

For now, my goal for 2021 is to be a better version of 2020 Angela. I am happy to send off 2020 with my family and start 2021 with them. 

Happy New Year! 

Ki-Bo

Ki-Bo means hope in Japanese, and that is exactly what he did when he entered our lives. Ki-Bo became part of our family in October of 2006 at four months old. This past Saturday, November 28, at 14 years old, I had to say good-bye to him. My heart is shattered, and I cannot begin to express the sadness and emptiness I currently feel. I woke up Sunday morning and was startled when I did not see his sleepy face lying on his bed. Tears immediately poured out as I realized that I will never again wake up to his snores or his cold snout. I miss him terribly. 

My mom, brothers, and I got Ki-Bo a month after my dad left. A few weeks before my brother Fransico brought him home, our friend Dai helped pick out a name for the soon to be the newest member of the family. I still remember the five of us huddled around the kitchen island, my mom, my brothers Andrés and Fransico, Dai, and me. My mom asked Dai, what the word for hope was in Japanese, he responded, Ki-Bo, and it stuck. 

His first weekend with us, he got stung by a bee above his eye during his first trip to the park. His face was so swollen, but it did not diminish his spirit of curiosity and playfulness. Ki-Bo was not the typical dog that chewed on shoes; instead, he ate plants. He once ate five orchids my mom had bought on sale.  He was bilingual and responded to numerous names, always coming to the person that called him with big happy eyes, floppy ears, and a huge smile. 

Ki-Bo brought life back to our home after my dad left,  with his spunkiness and clumsiness, tripping over his oversized paws. He filled the void left behind by my father. He helped heal the four of us. I grew accustomed to coming home to his happy dance and kisses, making his loss so much more heartbreaking. I miss him, I miss playing hide-and-seek, I miss walking with him, and I even miss waking up at 3 in the morning so he can be let out to pee. 

After twenty months of battling cancer and arthritis, Ki-Bo is resting and in puppy-heaven. I came home Friday to find him lying under the coffee table, unable to get up. I helped him up, but his hind legs gave, and he fell. I thought it was because his legs were numb, but I was mistaken. He lost his ability to walk and was in tremendous pain.  My handsome 14-year-old pup gave me one last wet- cold snout kiss as I gave him his medication on Friday night. He slept through the night and woke up with more pain on Saturday. I called the veterinary's office early Saturday morning and took him in at 9:30 am. He was gone by 10:30 am. 

My house feels different, odd, empty, too quiet. I know it's going to take time for me to become accustomed that he will never again wake me up at 3 in the morning to pee or give me puppy eyes so I can give him some of my food. Ki-Bo may no longer sleep at the foot of my bed, but his essence, his spirit will always be with me.