I need to stop responding to comments regarding my last post because, after what I wrote to KJ, I realized that my heart is closed. A closed heart doesn’t necessarily preclude honesty, but it sure as hell precludes compassion and respect.
We took Baxter to the vet yesterday—on his eleventh birthday—about a persistent cough. X-rays showed that the cause is most likely lung cancer. Our choices suck. We can do our best to make his remaining time comfortable, or we can put him through a lot of suffering, ourselves through a lot of anguish, and spend untold thousands of dollars and probably lose him anyway.
I’ve never been much good at compartmentalizing my emotions. Yesterday at the vet’s, Peggy had tears in her eyes, yet she was able to listen closely and ask intelligent questions. Yesterday at the vet’s, I stood to one side with a blank expression on my face. After the word cancer, I was too consumed by fear and grief to listen.
Say what you will, much of life is lose/lose. Much of life is about making the best of the worst.
I wrote the second half of my blog entry yesterday after the vet visit. Maybe I should have written it at another time, not because I don’t believe every word of it, but because I lack tact when I’m hurting.
I had rather see entire nations perish than to lose one of my dogs. That’s not an admirable thing to say, maybe, but it too is true.
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