Tag: #thissucks

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.

Feeling Overwhelmed

As I type this out, I have six stitches in my arm from an excision surgery last week. Not only did I have a uterine biopsy in October, I also had a skin biopsy that resulted in this surgery. So for those of you who don’t want to do the math: I’ve had 3 biopsies now in roughly 6 weeks. The surgery was a few days ago and while it appears to be healing fine, I wish I could say the same for my mental health. Yet again waiting on pathology report to help me know whether any further action is needed. If you have never had to play the waiting game of “is it cancer or not?” lemme tell you, it is a fun one <insert heavy sarcasm>.

I have been on a mission to get up-to-date on home inspection and repair stuff since this home is now approaching 22 years old. And the wasband (i.e. ex-husband LOL) didn’t do any of this shit (I would have known because I managed our finances while married). I have had dryer vents cleaned, trees trimmed away from the house (no more critters in my attic please!), chimney inspected and cleaned, and this week was to have the HVAC units inspected. I had suspected the HVAC units were original to the house…and as it turns out, I was right. Since this house has 2 units (one in the attic and one in the basement), I am looking at roughly $15k-$20k to replace them. The technician told me they are safe for now, but it’s all basically a house of cards at this point, because the furnaces have basically passed their average lifespan. The good news? That total cost is both the furnaces AND the A/C units, so it’s doing it all at once. The bad news? I dunno about you, but I don’t know any elder Millennial or Xennial that has an extra $20k just laying around. I’ve spent this entire weekend agonizing about how to finance this amount of money. How I can work it into my budget. If I replace one unit at a time or just do the whole schebang at once. I think I have a plan devised, but am fraught with worry about making sure I pay this off and don’t get myself into a financial bind. I am so grateful to my bestie, who is a whiz with finance and budgeting, and am running my plan by her to make sure it is sound. If there are any holes in the plan, she will find them.

To add to that fun of financial worry, our Chief Human Resource Officer at my job sent out a memo about hiring for 2024 that seemed pretty bleak. More or less no new roles will be added in 2024 (that wasn’t already budgeted for) without his express approval. Every single role. Seems excessive right? There’s also talk the new CEO wants to look at cost cutting measures so he will look good to the board. So yay to uncertainty there. While I don’t think I may get laid off, I don’t know for sure, and come up with contingency plans because nothing would surprise me. Having been laid off from Corporate America previously I don’t put stock in anything anyone says about whether my job is safe or not.

And last, but certainly not least, I had been texting with someone for a few weeks off a dating app that seemed promising. We hadn’t met up for a date yet because we are both divorced with kids and it’s been hectic trying to find free time on already packed holiday schedules. I had this niggling feeling this week that I am still over-giving, being the one to initiate all too often as that has been my historical role in relationships. I am an anxious cutie (I like the term Therapy Jeff has coined!) and know I have the tendency to fill in communication gaps myself because it makes me uncomfortable and to get validation they do in fact still like me. Well, the last time we texted was on Thursday and I was the last person to send communication…and I haven’t heard from him since. Admittedly, I am a bit bummed, because I was genuinely looking forward to meeting him but I don’t want to be with someone where there isn’t a more equal exchange of effort. And looking back through text messages, I told him I skew anxious and that if there will be communication gaps, it’s helpful to me if he’s proactive in letting me know. I even told him consistency and effort are key things I look for. <insert sigh here> This has been probably the first time in my life where I am able to observe this and actually find the inconsistency unattractive, instead of me wanting to try harder to convince him why he should like me.

All of this has felt heavy on my shoulders this week, and although I have a good support system of friends and family, I still feel alone in dealing with all this. Plus I have been feeling lonely for awhile now. Going on year 3 of living separate, almost a year and a half of being divorced, plus being lonely for years in my marriage, I have had the thought of “when is it my turn?” I know that is a completely human reaction and I’m trying to have compassion and sympathy for myself in this moment. Beating myself up or trying to toughen up isn’t going to help…in fact, it’s only going to make me feel more like shit than I already do.

Here I sit in the overwhelm, acknowledging and holding space for these feelings as best I can. Ultimately I trust I will be able to figure this all out, because up until this point in my life, I’ve been able to successfully figure everything out. I trust that future me has got this and know the rain and storms I’m currently in cannot last forever. Things will eventually get better. I’m trusting in that thought today to keep me going.

Hi Ho It’s Off for a Biopsy I Go!

I have been struggling with heavy periods for awhile now and went to see my OB/GYN. Not only do my cycles last 7-8 days, but I am having disgusting size clots that would make you gag if I were to describe the size of them to you. In addition to that fun, I am having terrible cramps as a result. I get it, my body is trying to extricate this stuff from me, but often leaves me wanting to curl into a fetal position and just sob. The pain is through my lower abdomen, radiating down the front of my thighs, and is so intense I am forced to stop and deep breathe through it. To no one’s surprise, I have been feeling depleted and exhausted both during and after my periods. I thought it may be attributed solely to perimenopause, my OB/GYN had different thoughts. Just a reminder to all the ladies out there: heavy periods aren’t normal.

During my appointment with my OB/GYN, she scheduled me for both an ultrasound and a uterine biopsy to rule out fibroids, endometriosis, ovarian and uterine cancer. Yay! My ultrasound is scheduled for Monday and the biopsy is scheduled for Tuesday. Let the worrying begin!

Although this isn’t my first biopsy (I have titanium beads in both boobs from previous biopsies!), I thought I was handling this round pretty well until I realized I wasn’t. Last Sunday afternoon, I was lying in bed trying to nap and an image came up in my mind of having to tell my daughter I had cancer. The vision felt so real I started to sob in my bed. I lost my dad to cancer, albeit lung cancer, but this is one of the biggest worries and fears as a mother. That my daughter will lose me early in life. I was 24 when my dad died, and he was only 50 years old. I am 45 years old, and in just five short years, I will be the same age as when my dad left this Earth. I wish I could tell you I don’t have paranoia about dying at the same age he did, but I do. I really, really do. And as my biopsy appointment approaches, I feel more and more anxiety creeping in. If you haven’t ever had to experience this, it is pure agony having to wait for biopsy results. As if the lead up to the procedure isn’t bad enough, those days after, when everything seems to hang in the balance while you are waiting on a pathology report, are completely excruciating.

If you read this, please say a little prayer for me or send me good vibes or anything positive. I sure could use it. Until then, I will be trying to keep myself distracted so I don’t circle down this black hole of what if scenarios until I have a panic attack.

Good Enough

Recently, I’ve been feeling this inexplicable sense that somehow life is passing me by. I am sitting on the sidelines of my own life and it gives me so much anxiety I can hardly breathe. I feel so depleted physically and emotionally from the past week, and yet, my body, my soul, is screaming out from inside of me to do something! Except I don’t know what that something is. I feel so lost right now, so completely unfulfilled, and I don’t know how to remedy it and it is driving me slowly insane. I am not happy right now with my career, my personal life, my finances, my love life, my health & well-being…it all needs an overhaul and a revamp. I don’t know where to begin.

I have been in the house for almost 10 days now, from my daughter testing positive for Covid, to me testing positive last Friday. With the exception of two short Target pick up orders (with masks!) and walks by myself, I have been stuck within the confines of this house. I am lonely and in need of connection very badly. However, I feel like the only connection I can come by these days comes with a price: money or sex. I am running short on the first and I don’t have the energy right now to use my body as currency for connection. I literally cannot have someone take from me without it being returned in full force. And so I sit here, the dog my solo companion.

I keep thinking to myself – when am I going to get it together? But honestly, deep down inside I know that is a very harsh, uncompassionate response to myself. I know this! And I know that voice is not my own…it likely stems from my mother. Or step-mother. Or one of the other cruel teachers from my life. My own inner being is not cruel; she is inquisitive, joyful, hopeful, playful, curious, and loving. I have been so tired of having tough experiences that have hardened me in some form or fashion. I’m ready to live a life of ease, of softness. I’ve got myself and can take care of everything in my life, but I am tired of having to do it all alone. We weren’t meant to be alone. We weren’t meant to be lonely.

I’m crying as I type these words out, knowing that all these feelings have to come out somehow. I can no longer suppress them and have this resentment, anger, or sadness welling up inside of me. They must come out. So I type, and cry, cry and type, until I feel like enough of my emotions have been released that I can say “Good enough” for today and put my computer away.