Conversations with Champ

If you have read my previous blog post about Champ, you know that he is a rescue dog that is transitioning to become Jazz's service dog.  Their bond has continued to grow and their daily routines have become well established.  While discussing the latest details of Jazz's entrance into puberty (another story for another day), my mom told me about a recent occurrence that is now fondly known as conversations with Champ.  During this time of day, Jazz, in an attempt to process any aspect of life she doesn't understand, will have Champ sitting in her lap while she, explains the topic to him in the same way we have done with her.  It has to be the most classic example of psychological transference I have ever heard of, and it seems to truly help her.  We also saw this behavior when she was a small child with her stuffed doggy, but I digress.

Accepting deficit is a hard and arduous process for anyone, but for a person with a brain injury, it's down right painful.  The young man that I spoke of recently, who was a dancer, just today became aware of his brain injury and what the term means.  He has been asking us for weeks why he was at CNS, and we always responded because of a brain injury.  Today, he realized that everyone around him has brain injury and the hard truth of what it implies about how his life has changed and how long he has been unaware of the change.  It all happened in the blink of an eye, just like turning on a light switch, of which none of us were prepared for. 

In the last year, Jazz has had a similar experience.  We have never hidden it from her, but have always tried to speak about it with caution, care, and respect.  She started admitting that she was "special needed" when we went to Disneyland and she could go to the front of the line unlike everyone else, and that she was always in the same classroom every year unlike her other peers.  She has now started to notice every single little part of herself that is "different" from other people, especially her peers.  This realization has been heart breaking for us because all she begs for from us is to be like everyone else.  And despite our best efforts, she just doesn't believe us when we say that everyone is different, or when we remind her that everyone in her class has similar special needs.  She is also realizing that what makes her different, is her brain injury, which in Jazz language she calls her "brain surgery."  Lord help us when she wants to know why she has her brain injury...

A great stride was made the other day in this acceptance phase when my mom was "puppy-sitting" for  a friend.  Champ has a tendency to play rough and this visiting dog cannot handle rough play.  In the midst of trying to get him to settle down, Jazz pulled him up onto her lap and explained to him that she knows it's hard for him, but he has to remember that everyone is special needed.  She continued to explain that: Champ is special needed because of his fur problem (he is missing chucks of it due to the abuse he suffered previously and the scar tissues left behind), Teton (the visiting dog) is special needed because he has bad knees, and Jazz is special needed because of her brain injury.  It was a true moment of clarity for her and ironically, explaining this to Champ seemed to help her openly explain to him about her needs.

Tonight, she pulled Champ onto her lap and explained to him that he has private parts like she does, and that he is mammal like she is, which makes them both have hair on their bodies.  This is an aspect of puberty that has not gone over so well with her as she has attempted to shave her eyebrows, pluck her pits, and cut chucks of her hair out.  But like I said, those are stories for another day.

In the mean time, remember to sit back and be thankful for every aspect that makes you who are, even if makes you "special needed."  And don't be afraid to talk over the confusing parts with your favorite furry friend.

Much Love!