Tag: #grief

F*ck Cancer: Dog Edition

F*ck Cancer: Dog Edition

I’ve been avoiding writing about this for awhile now, and figured it was time to finally download my feelings. My dog Chuckles had surgery in late March to remove a mass on his right hind leg. The pathology came back that it was cancer. And not just any cancer, it was the rare and aggressive kind. Chuckles has a mast cell tumor, grade 3, which has almost an 80% reoccurrence rate and an 11% one year survival rate. Plus with the location of where it was on his body, they had to be careful with how much skin they took, and as a result the margins of the tumor weren’t clear. He still has cancer cells present in his body. I did, however, receive an oncology referral from the vet, and wanted to do my due diligence to investigate what my options were.

So earlier this month, I took Chuckles in to talk to a vet oncologist. And the reality of his situation hit home for me with full force. Treatment for chemotherapy and/or radiation starts around $5k and goes beyond $10k. And from the discussion with the vet oncologist, the treatment would only be to prolong his life. The best estimates were that treatment would buy a few months to potentially up to a year…if it even works at all. The vet stressed there wasn’t a guarantee.

I sobbed almost the entire drive home, talking to to my bestie, and confessed to her how I felt guilty, as if I was just letting him die by not pursuing treatment. I know intellectually that isn’t true but emotionally that’s how it feels to me. I’m letting my dog, my best friend, one of the only men I really love and cherish, die. Normally when I cry, he runs away and hides upstairs. But that day, when I came home from the vet, I reviewed the paperwork again, and as I sat and silently cried by myself, he stayed. He just sat there, laying on the living room floor, looking up at me lovingly. His solid presence, even when the bad news was about him, was comforting and heart wrenching all in the same breath.

I’ve had Chuckles for just over 10 years. We adopted him before I even knew I was pregnant with with my kiddo, but he was always my dog, bonded exclusively to me. Sure he loves and adores my daughter, but when I leave a room, he’s hot on my heels. Always by my side. My constant companion. The prognosis for him with strictly palliative treatment is from 2-6 months. I have been putting off calling the vet, to start the process of palliative care, because literally and figuratively that feels like another nail in his coffin. I’m not ready to lose him. The thought of being completely alone after he’s gone, makes my heart constrict with grief. I know in my soul I am going to make it through this, as I’ve made it through losing my father, but there is a thick layer of sadness that weighs heavy on my heart. And on top of my own feelings, I have to contend with making sure my daughter is appropriately processing her grief as well. I’m not a young 20-something like I was when I lost my dad to cancer; I’m now a mother, who is raising a very deep feeling, empathetic, kind kiddo who is going to take the death of her first dog really hard.

I have arranged for a special photoshoot next month, and am confident we will make some good memories and have wonderful photos to cherish once he crosses over the rainbow bridge. And I’m so eternally grateful for all the time I have had with him. He’s been there with me through becoming a mother, changing jobs, being my emotional support dog through my divorce, and witnessing the joy and happiness that has come from my new chapter. I love you so much bubba, and I am so thankful I got the opportunity to love and take care of you. I’ll do my best to make sure you receive the very best love and care from now until the end. You have my word.

A New Beginning

A New Beginning

As of the 1st of this month, I am now officially divorced. I was on the phone with my sister when I received the paperwork from my attorney and I cheered with joy! I was filled with a sense of liberation and celebration at having the legal paperwork in hand. It was a year ago in September that I asked for a divorce, and we now have come full circle. I also love the fact that both events happened in September, the 9th month. The number 9 represents completion; the end of a cycle. I am no longer his wife and am reclaiming myself with this and each and every day that passes. I feel so fortunate for the opportunity to write a new story in my mid-40’s. I get to redefine myself solely for ME! I get to choose the narrative of my life moving forward. Admittedly, I didn’t feel like I was in the driver’s seat of my life in my marriage, and the prospect of taking back the reigns of my life is exhilarating.

But this new beginning is not without its challenges. I am weary because I need to sort through the last financial ties that still bind us, and it feels like a slog. I keep telling myself that I am nearly there, that this is the last stretch in a very long, exhaustive race. I have carried the majority of responsibility (financial, emotional, and parenting) while together with my ex, and feel a similar burden as I am wrapping up items from the divorce agreement. In addition to that, because I have chosen to go back to my maiden name, there are additional hoops to jump through including an updated social security card, driver’s license, passport, and getting all new credits and debit cards as a result. I spent a majority of the weekend trying not to feel overwhelmed by these last steps. It’s as though I am on the last few miles of a marathon…and I am desperate to see the finish line.

That leaves the one tie that binds us; our daughter. And if I am honest with myself, this has been the biggest challenge. He has already had a female “friend” staying with him while our daughter is there. It appears she now has basically moved in. He has only been in the new house for a few months, so the routine is still new for the two of them. Let alone adding in a third party. This friend was someone I suspected him of having an affair with last summer (she’s one of a slew of women) and it was the final implosion of a marriage that was on life support anyway.

My daughter confessed to me that she felt like she had to be perfect while this other person was at her dad’s house. She went on to tell me she couldn’t be herself and had to hold in her big feelings. My heart ached as she sobbed and told me she didn’t want to tell him because she didn’t want him to feel like a bad dad. She is almost 8 and has more emotional intelligence than her 46-year-old father. I made sure to explain she is not responsible for others’ feelings. I grew up experiencing that weight and it has been something I have struggled with my entire adult life. I tried having a conversation with him about the situation, but unsurprisingly, he was unable to consider his own daughter’s feelings or perspectives. I do not hold any ill will towards my ex or his friend. My sincere hope and prayer is for my ex to live a life that makes him happy and fulfilled. As the father of our child, I want him to be healthy physically, mentally, and spiritually. I recognize I do not have control over the situation in his house, so I said a silent prayer that his friend genuinely loves and cares for our daughter.

I am excited for my own journey and hopeful that things on a co-parenting front improve for the sake of our daughter. And with that in mind, I continue to show up and be the adult, the bigger person, the one who takes our daughter into consideration, while being free to walk the path that brings me the most joy and happiness.