Not My Buddy: One woman, a dog, and their journey toward healing, by Tracey Berkowitz
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Not My Buddy: One woman, a dog, and their journey toward healing, by Tracey Berkowitz
Free Ebook PDF Not My Buddy: One woman, a dog, and their journey toward healing, by Tracey Berkowitz
How is it possible to love something that almost ends your life? Three days after the arrival of "Buddy," an adorable Golden Retriever puppy, Tracey Berkowitz's picture perfect life shatters. Almost overnight, she looks horrible, feels horrible and has no idea why. Not My Buddy is a love story between one woman and the dog who restores her spirit while she finds her way toward health. Over the course of five years, Tracey Berkowitz and her family spend more than $80,000 on a team of 16 health care professionals and, at one point, 132 pills per day, while they seek a diagnosis and treatment for this mysterious illness. Taken to the brink of bankruptcy and divorce and incapacitated as a mother, Tracey removes the masks that contributed to her dis-ease, leaving her vulnerable, terrified, and headed on a collision course with her soul's true purpose: to help those suffering from chronic giardiasis-ironically "the gift" from the dog who teaches her self-love.
Not My Buddy: One woman, a dog, and their journey toward healing, by Tracey Berkowitz- Amazon Sales Rank: #2187987 in Books
- Published on: 2015-06-16
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 8.50" h x .52" w x 5.51" l, .64 pounds
- Binding: Paperback
- 246 pages
Review "In her debut book, Not My Buddy, Berkowitz invites readers to join her on a whodunit medical mystery, sharing her five-year journey of self-discovery as she fights her way back to health after contracting Giardia from her golden retriever, Buddy, for whom the book is titled."Berkowitz writes in a style so endearing that readers will feel as though they are one of her inner circle and candidly shares the intimate and escalating struggles she and her family encounter in the face of her rapidly declining health."Berkowitz's take-charge mentality when it comes to being her own advocate, both as a patient and in her family life, is nothing short of inspiring and Not My Buddy is sure to positively impact the lives of all who read it, as it did my own." ~ Stacey Freeman of Middle-Aged Mania blog"An insightful, edifying tale of the toll that a parasistic disease can take...Berkowitz writes of this challenging situation with honestly, humility and even humor." ~ Kirkus Reviews"In her first memoir, author Tracey Berkowitz shares with abject and detailed frankness a battle for health and what it both cost her and brought her. But Not My Buddy is more than a person's personal battle with chronic illness; it's a journey shared with two - and four-legged - family, one filled with beautiful words that detailed the deep kinship she shares with other small souls." LB Johnson, author of The Book of Barkley and Saving Grace"An inspiring tale of persistence and determination. If you suffer from chronic giardiasis or any mystery illness, you should read this book." ~ Leo Galland, MD, author of The Fat Resistance Diet
From the Author CHAPTER 1 In April 2009, I stood in front of a full-length mirror and stared at my distended belly. I'd given birth to twin girls eight years earlier but looked and felt as if I was about to go into labor, except I was not pregnant. What I was--was a mystery. My runner's body had vanished overnight. I struggled to stay balanced on my feet. My dark hair, once shiny, had turned dull and fell out in clumps. I was shedding as frequently as the Golden Retriever that sat at my feet. Something was very wrong and he knew it. Buddy stared up at me, yearning for attention and a chance to play, but any activity other than sleep was more than I could handle. He was barely a year old, but I swear he was trying to apologize. His big brown eyes asked, is it really my fault? ** My fraternal twin daughters, Abby and Jolie, begged me to get a dog after we read every tale of Biscuit the Puppy and watched all the "Air Bud" movies. By May 2008, my husband and I finally gave in and contacted the breeder that my sister used the prior year. We told the girls we were going to the "dog farm," the breeder's house, to play with purebred Golden Retrievers. I melted seeing the girls sitting on the kennel floor surrounded by a new litter. I didn't care that it was filthy--it was a kennel after all. Abby and Jolie were ecstatic. "What would you say if we told you that we can bring one of these puppies home soon?" A chorus of "OMGs" were followed by a round of "THANK YOUs!" Two weeks later, we returned to choose our puppy. Choosing a puppy required some preparation and a lot of reading. I had done my homework, determined to find just the right dog for our family. What exactly did that mean? I wanted a smart dog, an affectionate dog, a dog that behaved and was good with children and made bad people run like hell from our house. I wanted a dog that looked cute, that we loved very much and that loved us back unconditionally. I wanted a dog that the girls would learn to take care of. Like a 4-H project. We could do this, I kept telling myself. It might even be fun. I did not have a dog growing up and hadn't considered myself a dog person until I spent time at my first boyfriend's house in junior high school. Stephen owned a beautiful blonde Golden Retriever with a seemingly submissive personality. He made it look like taking care of a dog was easy. I thought so, too, until his dog pinned me against the door in Stephen's laundry room, where he stayed when people visited. All he wanted was to play with someone and receive some attention. I knew he wouldn't hurt me but I panicked and screamed for help. Later in college, I had another chance to become a dog lover when my roommate agreed to keep her boyfriend's new litter of Bulldog puppies at our apartment. Their hairless bodies fit into the palms of our hands and I found myself racing home from class every day to play with them. Once they were sold, our apartment seemed empty. I was startled by how quickly I had bonded with those puppies and I missed them very much. When my daughters fell in love with the storybook character "Biscuit," it didn't take much time for me to start dreaming about our new lives together. I could imagine myself in our local dog park, chatting with my new dog lover friends, tossing Frisbees and balls, comparing dog foods and obedience training. Adding a dog to our family would complete us, I believed. The picture was almost perfect. I wanted 'the perfect dog,' but every puppy squirmed right out of my arms before I could complete the four personality tests recommended in Good Owners, Great Dogs; What All Good Dogs Should Know; Children with their Dogs and Golden Retrievers for Dummies. "You think those tests will work completely?" my husband, Jeff, asked dubiously. I continued petting the puppy between my legs, aware of my husband's smirking. I refused to let his healthy skepticism alter my plans. He nudged me a few times in the arm, then flashed his goofy, dimpled grin and raised his eyebrows until they disappeared under the lid of his baseball hat. He raised his hat in one hand, pushed back his brown hair with the other and winked--as if to emphasize his teasing. I elbowed him and rolled my eyes. The breeder helped narrow the selection for us, removing the puppies we didn't want, leaving us with three males whose fur wouldn't get thick like a wolf. We didn't want to ruin the carpets for God's sake. Abby insisted we take the runt. "He is so calm and not biting my shoelaces like the other ones. He's small and cute like me," she said and smiled. "No way I'm taking the runt!" I declared. I wanted a healthy dog. Maybe even a show dog. A dog we could rally behind, the centerpiece of holiday cards. Abby flipped me a look. "How about this one," Jolie asked. "He's cute and sort of calm." She laughed when he jumped right out of her arms and looked at us. "I guess. It's so hard to choose." Jeff held one of the puppies for a while. The puppy seemed calm. Jeff turned the puppy on his back to cradle him--using the personality test he had mocked. "Trace, he's really sweet and he's been hanging out in my arms the longest. We're never going to know what any of these pups will be like in a few months. We'll train him and he'll be great. Take him." I grabbed onto the six-pound bundle of fur. He was sweet and looked directly into my eyes. I turned him over, rubbing my hand around his little bald belly, feeling the warmth and softness. It struck me, here's my chance to have a third child--despite his performance on those personality tests. Suddenly, I forgot about the books. My future pulsed with possibility. It was as if I'd finally get to experience what caring for a newborn "baby" would be like without the constant worry of splitting my attention equally like I had always done with the twins. I paused with my hand over his heart and scratched under his chin. He hardly moved, clearly relishing this connection. Cradled on his back, he didn't squirm much, and he nipped only playfully. Clearly, this was a gentle soul wrapped in just the right amount of soft blond fur. He passed all four tests. I glanced at my family. "I can't believe I am going to say this, but I like him. I think he's the one! I think we found our Buddy guys!" ** At ten weeks old, Buddy would be ready to leave his mother and siblings and start a new life with us. We gave the breeder a deposit and returned Memorial Day Weekend to pick up Buddy. While I filled out the last of the paperwork, the breeder told us that Buddy had a parasite. I paused and looked up at him. "A parasite?" The breeder shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, giardia. It's very common among puppies. Nothing that this won't cure," he said and handed me a Ziploc bag with tubes of liquid antibiotics, instructing us to inject them into his mouth every day for a week. His relaxed manner eliminated the need to inquire further. I figured parasites, especially in puppies, were no big deal, like my girls having the stomach flu. "Easy, right?" he asked. I nodded, recalling the times I gave Jolie acid reflux medicine when she was an infant, and within a few days her stomach got better. I could handle this. We took more pictures and headed home while my daughters bickered over who got to have Buddy on her lap. I refused to let anything ruin our beautiful day and sat in the back seat between them while Buddy laid on my lap, completing the perfect picture. **
From the Inside Flap Later that afternoon, Jeff and I stood on our deck, watching Buddy interact with our girls in the backyard. Jolie sat on the grass Indian-style, with her dirty blonde hair in a low ponytail, her back against the tree, coddling Buddy. She looked more relaxed and confident than I had ever seen her. Caring for an animal came naturally to her, and she clearly appreciated Buddy's attention after years of sharing everything with her fraternal twin. I was amazed that Jolie kept up with him after hours of play. Her intentions from the start were genuine. She was looking for a companion in this puppy. Abby had a slightly different experience. She enjoyed Buddy's attention when she was in the mood to play with him, establishing a more conditional love. When Abby decided to move on to something else, such as the swing set, she expected Buddy to leave her alone, but he nipped at her clothing. Abby was frustrated, so I sat her down on the grass and tried to help. I gently swept away Abby's thick brown hair behind each ear, revealing her tiny face and light brown eyes. "You have to ignore him when he nips at you. It's a puppy's way of teething and playing. If you keep moving every time he does it, he will do it again. It's a game for him." Abby's eyes welled up with tears. "It's annoying. Why doesn't he do that with you guys or Jolie? We should have picked the runt," she said, crossing her arms. "Besides, you like him more than me." "Oh Ab," I said with a slight chuckle. She couldn't possibly believe I would favor a dog over her. I continued, "Come on. You don't really believe that? You're my sweetheart, and I love you so much, but we just brought a puppy home who needs to be watched at all times. This is the part about being responsible that Daddy and I discussed with you girls. Remember? We have to train him and teach him how to be a well-behaved dog." "Buddy likes you guys better than me," Abby said between gasps. Tears ran down her face. I wrapped my arms around her. "Buddy is just looking for attention and will take it from anyone who gives it. Why don't you go inside the house and grab a treat," I offered. "Next time he deserves a reward, I'll let you be the one to give it. Trust me, he'll remember who gave him the good stuff and come back for more!" ** House-training Buddy demanded even more of our attention. By the third day, the only thing I was scrubbing was his poop off the terra cotta tile floor in my kitchen. While I was on my knees, I wondered if I was really cut out for this. I had never felt more exhausted, and yet only three weeks ago, I had run a half marathon. I wondered if we should have gotten the runt. Jolie pointed out the spreading mess, "Uh mom, he made over here, too." "You've got to be kidding me!" I said, convinced I had picked the wrong puppy. ** After Memorial Day Weekend, I was left alone with Buddy. Jeff was back at work and the girls were off to school. Buddy explored the kitchen while I sat at the table, dressed in gym clothes, yearning to go on my morning run. Since Buddy cried the first couple of nights in his crate, we didn't sleep very well, although no one else in my family seemed to be affected. Their energy was intact. I attributed my fatigue to the stress of being responsible for this new puppy. However, my exhaustion from caring for infant twins didn't compare to what I felt like now, and I had spent only a couple days with him. This should have been a cakewalk, but I could barely lift my head off the table. I noticed Buddy slow down as he approached the corner below the kitchen island. It was obvious he was about to make another mess. I shut my eyes for a brief moment and sighed. "Just fabulous, Buddy." I should have swept him up, run outside, and used his bathroom command, "go hurry ups," but I did nothing. I was on my knees cleaning his mess once again. I felt a lump in my throat and an uneasy sensation in my stomach, this time attributing it to constipation, knowing it had almost been two days since I'd gone to the bathroom. I fought tears as I cleaned Buddy's mess. I didn't recall my sister complaining too much about raising Jagger, her Golden Retriever, which she had affectionately called her "third child." How could I feel so tortured by our adorable puppy? The telephone rang. At first, I didn't get up to answer it. I had no desire to speak to anyone and give them the opportunity to ask how things were, because I was embarrassed that I couldn't handle this simple situation. My machine picked up and I waited to hear the message. "Hi Tracey. This is Debbie returning your call. When you get a minute." Thank God, I thought. It was the dog trainer to rescue me. I struggled to get off the floor and dove for the telephone before she hung up. "Thank you for returning my call. I am so happy to hear your voice!" I said, a little breathless. "You have no idea. I need serious help. My dog is having accidents all over the place and I'm exhausted and miserable. When can you come?" Debbie listened to my desperate pleas for help and calmly redirected my focus. She explained that Buddy was acting as my master, when the roles should be reversed. She wrapped up our half hour call, explaining that we would start lessons when he was twelve weeks old. I could barely wait. Until our first appointment, I listened to her instructions as if my life depended on it. She told me to get him on a leash and follow him in circles outside until he went to the bathroom after I said my command, hurry ups. If he didn't go after a few minutes, I should bring him back into the house and put him immediately in the crate. When I was ready to take him out of the crate and try again, I should repeat the whole routine in the same spot with his leash: command, praise and treat. CPT, I told myself. It wasn't that hard. Then I was supposed to let him back into the kitchen, but at no time should I let him roam around the house. "Keep him in a confined area," Debbie reminded me. "You are the master, not him. Make that clear and you'll be fine. He is following your lead. I'll see you in two weeks as originally agreed." I scribbled down her tips as fast as I could so I wouldn't forget anything. I was grateful for Debbie's instructions. Crate training meant I could put the puppy in the crate even while I was home. Somehow I missed that important detail even after reading all four books. ** A week later, I had become Buddy's master. I had even gotten used to our new schedule, but was still feeling constipated and extremely fatigued. Jeff and my mom agreed. "You're probably getting run-down from Buddy and should take something so you can go to the bathroom." I wish it could have been as simple as using a laxative or any such remedy. It had been a week since I had relief and the size of my belly was the proof. I looked like I was starting a second trimester of pregnancy, and what I was about to give birth to remained a huge mystery.
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Most helpful customer reviews
2 of 2 people found the following review helpful. Your journey is not publicized or marketed like breast cancer and chemo By mindy I finished the book. I was so intrigued with the details of your journey I couldn’t put it down. I have known the story line but am beyond impressed at the person you have become. The medical terms, the vitamins, the holistic methods, the meditational awareness, the food sensitivity, the positivity, and the strength you have shown in this book is beyond admirable. There is so much that I can relate but yet there is so much that I can’t. Your journey is not publicized or marketed like breast cancer and chemo. My wish for you is that this book becomes national and parasites become as well known as cancer. There needs to be an awareness about this. I always had an extremely high admiration for you, but this book has raised the bar. You are one smart cookie, one devoted mother, and one strong person. Like I said, this is only the beginning for you….THE BEST IS YET TO COME!!
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. A testament to the unfaltering strength of the human spirit. By Stacey Freeman, J.D. She did everything “right.” Before completing the picture-perfect life she had always envisioned with the addition of a new puppy to her young family of four, author, and soon-to-be divorced mom, Tracey Berkowitz, did her homework. But what she ended up learning was a powerful life lesson no amount of research could have ever prepared her for.In her debut book, 'Not My Buddy,' Berkowitz invites readers to join her on a whodunit medical mystery, sharing her five-year journey of self-discovery as she fights her way back to health after contracting Giardia, a parasite commonly responsible for causing waterborne illness, from her golden retriever, Buddy, for whom the book is titled.Berkowitz, who writes in a style so endearing that readers will feel as though they are one of her inner circle, candidly shares the intimate and escalating struggles she and her family encounter in the face of her rapidly declining health.As we envision Berkowitz’s steadfast attempts to balance life as a wife, mother, part-time preschool teacher, and caretaker of a rambunctious new puppy while trying for more than a year to systematically uncover the cause of her illness, readers will find themselves wondering how they, too, would function if similarly confronted with such a personal crisis.Berkowitz brings unexpected life and heart to an illness that is far more deserving of the limited awareness it presently garners. The attention Berkowitz gives throughout her five-year ordeal to her constant medical care, the needs of her family, and the dog she continues to love unconditionally is a testament to the unfaltering strength of the human spirit. Berkowitz’s take-charge mentality when it comes to being her own advocate, both as a patient and in her family life, is nothing short of inspiring and 'Not My Buddy' is sure to positively impact the lives of all who read it, as it did my own.
1 of 1 people found the following review helpful. but glad she is on the mend By hf I thoroughly was very impressed reading how Tracey searched with determination on what her chronic ailment was. It was a long journey, but glad she is on the mend. By writing her story, Tracey can help others with chronic Giardiasis. H.F.
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