Opal is very smart. She is my self-appointed caregiver and makes a point to always be by my side or nearby should I need anything. She has watched me navigating with the oxygen hose as I deal with this hopefully temporary breathing issue and has heard me grumble that moving it around so that I am not impeded is sometimes a challenge.
In general the White Dogs, the longer I wear the blasted device, are making connections about it and me and my mood and movements. They are learning to use the plastic tube as a momma remote sensor and some sleep on it so they can feel if I get up to walk. They are not afraid any longer of the noise of the stream of oxygen passing or of the O2 concentrator unit's constant mechanical pumping.
Opal figured out that if the hose dragging at my feet or around my legs makes things hard for me that SHE could help by taking the hose in her mouth and marching ahead of me. The surprise caught me off guard and I stumbled. My yell, "Opal!" startled her nd she ran to hide, still carrying my hose which pulled the cannula from my nose. Fortunately she ran into the living room and dropped the hose in front of my chair so no true harm was done. But her good deed had been quashed.
I softly called her over and tried to explain that her thoughtfulness was appreciated but that working with the O2 equipment was something I needed to do myself. She hung her head and looked hurt.
The easiest solution would, of course, be finding out what is wrong and fixing it so oxygen is not required...but the medical industry moves slowly and specialist appointments are scheduled by QUARTERS not days or weeks. I do not want my Army to fear coming to me but I am not sure how to convey the ways my mobility is compromised so that they understand the complexities.
I laughed and when White Dog looked at me I shared. "I was just thinking," I told her, "that what I need is WIRELESS oxygen delivery."
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