Maria is feeling better by the day, thanks for asking.

She is still weak and recovering from her Friday food poisoning. Me too.

I got sick Saturday night and Sunday and was up all night last night. We both had some Miso soup for dinner.

Tomorrow, we both go to see our friend Susan Popper in the hospital. Thursday I’m meeting with her and her doctors and brother in the hospital.

These last few days have upended our routines and rhythms.

On top of everything else, it has been brutally cold one day, warm the next, leaving the farm shrouded in ice that freezes gates, makes animals grumpy, and our lives twice as hard. Hay isn’t light to lift these few days.

We have been talking a lot about handling a farm with animals with both caretakers being sick. I’ve also been contending with a nasty round of tendonitis in my left foot, playing around with ice packs, braces, and trying to rest, which I am never good at. Neither is Maria.

Her idea of resting is working nine hours a day instead of 12.

Susan’s friend Donna Nicosia is trying to find a permanent home for  Susan’s dog, Sally. One strong candidate lives across the country on the West Coast; it would cost a lot of money to get Sally there.

I am uncomfortable, somewhat to my surprise, asking for $1,000 or more dollars to get Sally to a new home thousands of miles away.

The fund-raising I do, especially these past few years, has been for the refugee children and the Mansion residents.

I don’t feel comfortable taking money away from those people and causes when there are still refuge kids without warm clothes or enough groceries and  Mansion residents and aides in need of so many things.

I’ve learned that “no” is as important as “yes.”

The Army of Good is all about focus, and I write about dogs, but they are separate from the work I am doing in the context of our times.

I think the people who get our money and give our money are entitled for me to be a hard-headed gatekeeper. A Mansion aide asked me for help recently to pay her rent, and I said no, I can’t be loaning money, that is a boundary. I would have said yes a year or two ago.

And this week I have spent many more hours on Susan’s illness than on my work and writing. I am determined to help her get to the next chapter in this trouble, but I am not willing to make it a primary focus of my life beyond her planning the next chapter of her life.

Helping Susan is a full-time job for more than one person, and she deserves all of the help that she can get. But that help can’t be me, as cold and harsh as that might sound. Susan knows that, I’ve told her so.

I started – quite willingly – merely helping to get Sally a home. But I am already up to my neck in e-mails, suggestions, decisions, choices,  finances, and dog emotions. People feel very strongly about rescuing dogs.

That may look noble on the outside but is dangerous on the inside.

I can’t afford to give too many pieces of myself away.

I get a lot of messages praising “you and Maria,” but Maria and I lead fragile and challenging lives, as the last few days demonstrated.

I don’t want to live for praise, much as I love it. I want to live period. But I have to work hard to keep my life, I am my only and best advocate.

We aren’t about being saints and heroes. We are about keeping our creative and independent lives, and we both will fight very hard for that.

It’s so easy to help a dog; it’s harder to help a person, it’s impossible to do both sometimes and still keep a creative life.

I don’t want to be Mother Teresa. I want to be my own broken and muddled self looking to go right in focused and thoughtful and rational ways. As I’ve written a dozen times, you don’t need to be a saint to do good.

But it is so easy to slip into that hero role; there is so much that needs doing. And it’s so nice to be praised.

I can’t afford to do that on many levels. The Army Of Good works because it is so focused. We get to know the people we help, and we see the fruit of our generosity.

Am I wrong, or does raising money to send a dog cross-country not fit into that mold? I think it doesn’t.

If Donna asks me, I will forward her information on the blog, and let people know they send donations directly to her and the person adopting Sally, I would be happy to contribute myself.  Her e-mail is [email protected]. I am glad to help in that way. I would love to see Sally get her permanent home.

I believe Donna has a person in mind and I am happy to support her in this way. If that works out, Sally will have a long trek. The woman who wants Sally may be willing to fly East so she can take her with her on the plane. That’s a lot better than her flying in baggage.

I trust Donna completely to make that decision.

This week, I’ve arranged a series of meetings at the hospital – Susan, me, her brother, Donna on the phone, her doctors, the palliative care specialists. Tomorrow, Maria and I are going to visit Susan. There are a thousand details to work out, and I am going to help her understand those details and make good decisions for herself. We are communicating openly and well.

I’m learning to cut through the medical jargon. I am told that Susan’s illness is “incurable” but “treatable.” That means chemotherapy or palliative care or hospice.

Susan will have to make that decision. In our discussions, I need to be careful; I am a hospice volunteer and a passionate advocate for hospice. But it isn’t my job to encourage Susan or persuade her.  Or to be her caretaker.

Nor do I want to have too much influence over her life. That is dangerous. She has some big decisions to be making on her own.

But I do need to spend some time talking with her, and her doctors, and her family, doing some research, making sure she is aware of her options and prepared for the consequences. I will do the best I can for as long as I can. And that will take up a lot of the next few days.

I need to monitor myself carefully, I have often slipped over the border in my life, the consequences have been disastrous to me, and often to the people, I think I am helping. There is an enormous difference between helping someone and saving someone.

That’s why it’s good for me to write about this. It keeps me honest and on track.