I am sitting here staring at a beautiful picture of you. One that was taken on the day we had Nicolas's birthday party back in June. The beginning of June. Before the second diagnosis. You look so beautiful. So wise, and kind, and sweet. You were all of that and more. I know you were so so much more.
I had a horrible day yesterday. I was just emotional the whole day and had a breakdown bringing the garbage cans in. What a silly place to have a breakdown. Drew came out and talked with me about what was wrong. She misses you too sweet girl. We all do. It was two months yesterday. Two months ago I lost you. If I measured the time by my pain, we would still be in that room saying goodbye. I hurt just as much, actually more. I have to live with my reality. My sweet Bailey is gone. You are everywhere still though. In the kitchen, in the back yard in the garage, my room ,the playroom, the front lawn..the neighbors houses. Everywhere. I feel like you are here sometimes. When the house is quiet and the kids are at school I walk in the house and my heart is once more hit with the fact that you in fact, are gone. I am so used to you in my life. I have a file box of memories in my head of all the times we had together. I wish I could of recorded it all on tape. Your entire life. Then I could go back and watch it and smile at your sweet face on the screen. Just to hear you bark again would be so wonderful.
Two months. What is time if it can not heal all wounds? Only two months and it feels like forever. Then at times it feels like it just happened. I wish I knew how to make this pain easier. I wish I knew for certain that you were okay. That you indeed are in a better place and will wait for me to join you. I wish I could receive a sign that all was ok. Please let me know that you are not mad at me. Please tell me I made the right decision to let you go.
I can't snuggle with a box of ashes. I can't love a picture like I can the real thing. I want you back. I know in my reasonable mind I can't have you back with me here. I just want to know that I will see you again, hug you again, feel your soft ears again, kiss your sweet nose again.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Guilt
Did you know sweet girl? Did you know what was happening inside you? You were a smart girl, and one that always impressed. Sure, you lived for food, and water, and fun walks in the mountains, but you were more than that. I found you such an intelligent creature. One that felt, and experienced things like a human might. I can't help but wonder if you knew that night what was happening.
Once I saw the blood, I decided to call someone. Dove Lewis was where Dr. Freeman was and I knew it was an emergency hospital, open 24 hours. It was 4:30am now. Once I made the phone call, the Vet I spoke with suggested that I bring you in asap. With blood, and your history, there was really no other alternative. I knew Dr. Freeman would not be in on a Saturday morning, so I decided at that time to wait until I could call Dr. Cleveland and talk to him. He worked on Saturday and he knew your history.
Bailey I stayed with you, I sat in the chair by you and just watched you as you tried to rest. Each time you would start to rest, your breathing and the coughing would wake you. I felt so horrible and wanted to be able to help you rest. I remember the sound of the wind chimes, and I remember at about 5am the sun beginning to rise. It was a beautiful sight and a very peaceful one. We had spent the last couple of hours together. Just me and you. I was able to talk to you, and I hope my presence in some way was a comfort. What I did next makes me so incredibly mad at myself and so incredibly sad and regretful as well. It was about 6am. I went inside to tell Daddy that something was very wrong and that I would have to take you in. I told him my decision to wait for Dr. Clevelands office to open. He was still asleep, and agreed and told me to do whatever I thought best. He didn't fully understand what was happening. Neither did I really. Otherwise, how could I of gone back downstairs and instead of going outside to you again, I went to the couch to rest for a little while. I saw you in the same spot you were before, and I rested. I remember looking back out at you at one point and you had moved just a few feet forward. I remember wondering why you had moved, but I stayed inside. Then at about 7am I went back upstairs to talk to Daddy again. He was awake now with Nicolas. He told me to lay down and rest and he would go check on you. The next thing I know it was 8am. I got up and immediately went outside to check on you. Daddy was sitting with you. You were no longer in the grass, but on your bed. I asked Daddy what he thought. He agreed that I better take you in asap. I called Dr. Clevelands office then. His front office answered and told me he was actually not in that day, he was on vacation. So, my only choice was Dove Lewis. I called them and explained the situation again. I asked them if they could contact Dr. Freeman, and access her records. They said yes to both. So, I told Daddy that I would take you there. I went inside to get dressed while he loaded you in the truck for me.
Once I was ready to go, Daddy came in and told me that we better all go. He said he got you in the truck, but that you could not even stand up. He said that you had fallen over like you had a dizzy spell and hit your head on the side of the truck. We better all go, you needed us all.
Bailey I still at that moment was in no way thinking that we would be saying goodbye to you that day. I knew we were dealing with something serious, but not death. Not saying goodbye. My heart was heavy and my mind kept telling it that everything was going to be okay. I hated myself for leaving you for those couple of hours. I could not believe that I felt okay to go inside and leave you to suffer alone. I swear to you baby girl that I would take it all back if I had only known. I truly am so sorry for leaving you and will never forgive myself for my lack of understanding what was truly going on during those early morning hours. I'm so sorry. I love you so much and my entire body aches for your presence. I swear to you that if I knew of anything I could of done for you, I would of done it.
Once I saw the blood, I decided to call someone. Dove Lewis was where Dr. Freeman was and I knew it was an emergency hospital, open 24 hours. It was 4:30am now. Once I made the phone call, the Vet I spoke with suggested that I bring you in asap. With blood, and your history, there was really no other alternative. I knew Dr. Freeman would not be in on a Saturday morning, so I decided at that time to wait until I could call Dr. Cleveland and talk to him. He worked on Saturday and he knew your history.
Bailey I stayed with you, I sat in the chair by you and just watched you as you tried to rest. Each time you would start to rest, your breathing and the coughing would wake you. I felt so horrible and wanted to be able to help you rest. I remember the sound of the wind chimes, and I remember at about 5am the sun beginning to rise. It was a beautiful sight and a very peaceful one. We had spent the last couple of hours together. Just me and you. I was able to talk to you, and I hope my presence in some way was a comfort. What I did next makes me so incredibly mad at myself and so incredibly sad and regretful as well. It was about 6am. I went inside to tell Daddy that something was very wrong and that I would have to take you in. I told him my decision to wait for Dr. Clevelands office to open. He was still asleep, and agreed and told me to do whatever I thought best. He didn't fully understand what was happening. Neither did I really. Otherwise, how could I of gone back downstairs and instead of going outside to you again, I went to the couch to rest for a little while. I saw you in the same spot you were before, and I rested. I remember looking back out at you at one point and you had moved just a few feet forward. I remember wondering why you had moved, but I stayed inside. Then at about 7am I went back upstairs to talk to Daddy again. He was awake now with Nicolas. He told me to lay down and rest and he would go check on you. The next thing I know it was 8am. I got up and immediately went outside to check on you. Daddy was sitting with you. You were no longer in the grass, but on your bed. I asked Daddy what he thought. He agreed that I better take you in asap. I called Dr. Clevelands office then. His front office answered and told me he was actually not in that day, he was on vacation. So, my only choice was Dove Lewis. I called them and explained the situation again. I asked them if they could contact Dr. Freeman, and access her records. They said yes to both. So, I told Daddy that I would take you there. I went inside to get dressed while he loaded you in the truck for me.
Once I was ready to go, Daddy came in and told me that we better all go. He said he got you in the truck, but that you could not even stand up. He said that you had fallen over like you had a dizzy spell and hit your head on the side of the truck. We better all go, you needed us all.
Bailey I still at that moment was in no way thinking that we would be saying goodbye to you that day. I knew we were dealing with something serious, but not death. Not saying goodbye. My heart was heavy and my mind kept telling it that everything was going to be okay. I hated myself for leaving you for those couple of hours. I could not believe that I felt okay to go inside and leave you to suffer alone. I swear to you baby girl that I would take it all back if I had only known. I truly am so sorry for leaving you and will never forgive myself for my lack of understanding what was truly going on during those early morning hours. I'm so sorry. I love you so much and my entire body aches for your presence. I swear to you that if I knew of anything I could of done for you, I would of done it.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Time
Where were you wanting to go? 2007The kids and I left for Utah on July 17th for Grandma Waymans birthday. She had a heart attack a few weeks prior and I felt like I really needed to be at this birthday. It was one that I felt I would regret if I was not there. We only spent a few days. Friday night through Tuesday morning in Utah. You were home with Daddy. You and him were having a good time together, and I think now as I look back, it was good for you to be with him to have your last goodbyes. If I had known what came next??? More what ifs that I prefer not to think about.
We came home. Drew started a camp at church and Nicolas and I went about our normal routine that week. I can't think of anything significant that would of made me realize something was not right with you. You were happy and seemed completely normal. I look back at those days and I have no memory. I have no memory until Friday July, 24th. I picked Drew up from camp. She had her friend Alexus come over and we were going to Papas pool for a swim. I remember being at the pool with my friends Julie and Shelley, and the kids. I came home to you, and then left again to take the kids to eat. When we came back, again, you seemed fine. I went outside to talk to the neighbors and brought you with me. The kids were all playing and having a good time. You were loving the attention as usual from all the neighbors, and getting treats of course. Daddy was not home from work until late that evening because of a flight schedule. Drew had her friend spending the night and all seemed normal really. I remember our neighbor had a sandwich and you were trying to get to it, so I grabbed you by the collar to bring you home. I remember the neighbor with the sandwich ask if the need you had for food was related to your cancer, and his wife explaining the effects of the steroid to him. Then I left with you.
I got the kids in bed. I was in bed when Daddy came home. It was about 9pm. Then I remember waking to the sound of you breathing hard. Daddy hadn't put you outside yet where you felt better and cooler. I went downstairs somewhat annoyed with Daddy for not getting you out. I called you out and vaguely remember saying goodnight to you. I hate that I was annoyed then. I hate that because of the annoyance, I was quick to get you out and didn't spend enough time saying goodnight. I went back upstairs to go back to bed.
3am. Nicolas came to me. He had a bad dream and was scared. I went to his room where I layed on his bed with him. It was then that I heard you. It took me a minute to realize I was hearing you. It sounded like wheezing. Like an old man that had smoked his whole life. I told Nicolas I would be back and went to check on you. I opened the door to the backyard slowly. I didn't turn on the light because I wanted to make sure I was in fact hearing you, and try to do it without startling you. You couldn't hear then, but I knew you would see me if I turned the lights on. Once I heard you, and knew it was you that was wheezing, I decided to turn the lights on and see what was going on.
Nicolas had come out by then. I took him upstairs to Daddy and told him you were having a hard time and to please help me with Nicolas.
Then I went back to you. You saw me and ran to me. I tried to get you to drink some water and get you settled back down. You wanted to go in the house and just kept going for the door to go in. I decided to bring you in then and get you on your bed.
Once inside the wheezing continued and you began to cough a little. I brought you back outside to get some water in you. We stayed there. You drank some water and then went to lay in the grass. I took a spot on the chair and just watched you and wondered what to do. Wondered what was going on and what I should do.
I was not fully aware of the seriousness of the situation because of how well you had been doing just hours before. You kept looking at me and had a look in your eyes of concern as well. We stayed that way for about an hour. I sat and talked to you. Wondered aloud what was going on and who I could call. A cat crossed on our fence. I saw it, and thought you had, but you showed no sign of getting up to chase it away. You were coughing again. I noticed at one point something shiny in the grass in front of you. When I went to see it closer, you coughed again. It was blood. Blood was on the grass and now on your paw. I went in and grabbed a towel and refilled your water bowl. I wiped the blood off your paw and held the bowl to your mouth so you could drink. You drank a little and more blood showed up in the water. It was then I knew for certain something was terribly wrong. This wasn't just another episode that would go away. It was then that I began to cry. It was then that your head would began to drop and your eyes would close. Only to be opened again by another wheezing and coughing episode. You looked so tired sweet girl. So tired.
Time. If I had know hours before. Time. If I had known days before. What if I had run out of time? Why couldn't I turn it back. Turn it back to a year ago when I knew you were beating the cancer and had my happy healthy girl back?
Why didn't I take those months that had passed and used them more wisely. Yes I loved you and you were so happy, but I could of been better at so many things. I loved you so so much Bailey. You have to of known that. I hope you knew that. I was so incredibly in love with you. So lucky to have you. My life was different because of you. You made it fuller. You made it better and full of unconditional love.
Time was getting away from us now. Our time was almost up.
We came home. Drew started a camp at church and Nicolas and I went about our normal routine that week. I can't think of anything significant that would of made me realize something was not right with you. You were happy and seemed completely normal. I look back at those days and I have no memory. I have no memory until Friday July, 24th. I picked Drew up from camp. She had her friend Alexus come over and we were going to Papas pool for a swim. I remember being at the pool with my friends Julie and Shelley, and the kids. I came home to you, and then left again to take the kids to eat. When we came back, again, you seemed fine. I went outside to talk to the neighbors and brought you with me. The kids were all playing and having a good time. You were loving the attention as usual from all the neighbors, and getting treats of course. Daddy was not home from work until late that evening because of a flight schedule. Drew had her friend spending the night and all seemed normal really. I remember our neighbor had a sandwich and you were trying to get to it, so I grabbed you by the collar to bring you home. I remember the neighbor with the sandwich ask if the need you had for food was related to your cancer, and his wife explaining the effects of the steroid to him. Then I left with you.
I got the kids in bed. I was in bed when Daddy came home. It was about 9pm. Then I remember waking to the sound of you breathing hard. Daddy hadn't put you outside yet where you felt better and cooler. I went downstairs somewhat annoyed with Daddy for not getting you out. I called you out and vaguely remember saying goodnight to you. I hate that I was annoyed then. I hate that because of the annoyance, I was quick to get you out and didn't spend enough time saying goodnight. I went back upstairs to go back to bed.
3am. Nicolas came to me. He had a bad dream and was scared. I went to his room where I layed on his bed with him. It was then that I heard you. It took me a minute to realize I was hearing you. It sounded like wheezing. Like an old man that had smoked his whole life. I told Nicolas I would be back and went to check on you. I opened the door to the backyard slowly. I didn't turn on the light because I wanted to make sure I was in fact hearing you, and try to do it without startling you. You couldn't hear then, but I knew you would see me if I turned the lights on. Once I heard you, and knew it was you that was wheezing, I decided to turn the lights on and see what was going on.
Nicolas had come out by then. I took him upstairs to Daddy and told him you were having a hard time and to please help me with Nicolas.
Then I went back to you. You saw me and ran to me. I tried to get you to drink some water and get you settled back down. You wanted to go in the house and just kept going for the door to go in. I decided to bring you in then and get you on your bed.
Once inside the wheezing continued and you began to cough a little. I brought you back outside to get some water in you. We stayed there. You drank some water and then went to lay in the grass. I took a spot on the chair and just watched you and wondered what to do. Wondered what was going on and what I should do.
I was not fully aware of the seriousness of the situation because of how well you had been doing just hours before. You kept looking at me and had a look in your eyes of concern as well. We stayed that way for about an hour. I sat and talked to you. Wondered aloud what was going on and who I could call. A cat crossed on our fence. I saw it, and thought you had, but you showed no sign of getting up to chase it away. You were coughing again. I noticed at one point something shiny in the grass in front of you. When I went to see it closer, you coughed again. It was blood. Blood was on the grass and now on your paw. I went in and grabbed a towel and refilled your water bowl. I wiped the blood off your paw and held the bowl to your mouth so you could drink. You drank a little and more blood showed up in the water. It was then I knew for certain something was terribly wrong. This wasn't just another episode that would go away. It was then that I began to cry. It was then that your head would began to drop and your eyes would close. Only to be opened again by another wheezing and coughing episode. You looked so tired sweet girl. So tired.
Time. If I had know hours before. Time. If I had known days before. What if I had run out of time? Why couldn't I turn it back. Turn it back to a year ago when I knew you were beating the cancer and had my happy healthy girl back?
Why didn't I take those months that had passed and used them more wisely. Yes I loved you and you were so happy, but I could of been better at so many things. I loved you so so much Bailey. You have to of known that. I hope you knew that. I was so incredibly in love with you. So lucky to have you. My life was different because of you. You made it fuller. You made it better and full of unconditional love.
Time was getting away from us now. Our time was almost up.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Now who will eat my turkey?
Sweet girl. Yesterday was your birthday. You would of been twelve years old. You almost made it baby girl. Almost.
I was at a loss all day. Remembering birthdays past and wishing we had made a bigger deal of them at the time. We ate cake last night to celebrate. Although, nobody was really celebrating. I had a Subway sandwich for dinner with the kids. I always thought they put too much turkey on the sandwich, so I would take it off and always give it to you. Now each and every time I look to give it to you. The realization of your absence will hit me like a ton of bricks. And I am left with turkey and nobody wants it. You always wanted it.
I cry all the time. Everyday. All the time.
I miss you and still can't fathom life without you here. I see other dogs and think of you. I smile at the sweetness in their eyes, but think of your eyes and again, I cry.
The kids want another dog. They both do not know life without a dog in their house. I am so sad and still in a place of such sorrow that I can't imagine bringing another dog into what I still consider "your house." No, not yet. Never? Maybe.
I realize you will never be replaced and never forgotten and so I think it would be unfair to do to another dog. We (or I) would always think of you and may not love the next one enough to make it happy. You were my girl. My soul mate in canine form. I love you and miss you as much as the whole earth will allow. My heart is heavy at times, but mostly, I feel empty inside. It really is doing a number on me, this grief.
If I could look in your brown eyes one more time. If I could feel your soft ears again. If I could see your sweet smile and tail wag. Once more. It wouldn't be enough. But I may sacrifice the pain of you leaving me again, for just one more day.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Denial
You were doing so well after your biopsy. We knew it was cancer and we knew it was more aggressive this time. You were normal though, and so life went on as if everything was good. Your breathing even had improved and you seemed very happy. Other than the steroid, you were no longer taking the chemo drug because Dr. Freeman thought it was no longer working. The cancer had come back despite the drug, so there was no reason to continue. She said to keep you on the steroid. It was going to keep you comfortable and help to hopefully slow the growth of the tumor.
I remember her calling after she got the biopsy results and telling me that on the steroid she thought you would be fine for about 4-6 weeks. I remember her saying that, and I remember thinking she was crazy. I was with you, watching you, you were fine. We would beat this again. You were a fighter, and the prognosis may of been grim, but I had more faith in your zest for life. Yes this time it was different, more aggressive, in a bad spot. But I was convinced they were wrong again. Just like the first time, you would beat this.
Your hearing went. It happened over night. It was right around the time of your biopsy, I can't remember the exact time. You would be in the backyard and when I would open the gate and call you, you would not come. I walked to the other side of the yard and once I was right up on you, you would hear me and jump up with a smile on your face. I chalked it up to old age. I mean a lot of older dogs have bad hearing.
On the fourth of July the neighborhood had a big party to celebrate. You were right there in the thick of it. Running around eating whatever someone had dropped on the ground. Laying in the grass, greeting everyone that approached you with a smile. It was fun to watch you just enjoying the day and all of your friends. The steroid was annoying. You were always hungry. I had to pull you away from many unattended plates of food, and you seemed to never get enough. I felt bad for you. It must of been weird to never feel satisfied. You always loved to eat, don't get me wrong. But this was ten times worse than you normally were. In fact during the fireworks display we had a bit of a mishap where the fireworks all started going off...shooting in every direction. Mass chaos. People running for cover and kids crying. During all of the craziness, I was running down the street to find the kids and there you were. Everyone had jumped up from their seats so quickly, they had left their food behind. You were in heaven. Hot dogs and cookies right on the ground for you to eat! Fireworks were shooting right at you, but you were totally oblivious. Thanks to not hearing very well, and a steroid telling you to eat, eat, eat, you were not even aware of the danger or the others around you running for their lives.
We looked back on that night the next day, and as scary as it was nobody was hurt. The seriousness of the situation made everyone a little on edge. But then the stories of seeing you just as happy as ever eating all the food that was left behind started coming. Everyone was able to laugh, and everyone remembered seeing you at one point during all of the chaos just enjoying life and thinking we had left it all there for you to enjoy! You were able to enjoy the holiday, and I think it was probably one that went in your book as one you would always remember.
You were so funny and so full of life those last few weeks. You seemed tired, and really couldn't sleep well, but it didn't slow you down. Ryan and Stacey came to visit with their kids after the holiday. You were so happy to see them and enjoyed having the attention. I was always amazed at how you remembered everyone. Even though we hadn't lived in Utah for years, if we visited you would always start to whine and got so excited once we were within a mile of my parents house. Your first home. I guess you would always remember it there. But you ran to everyone as if you had been thinking of them, and missing them. You loved Robby the most I think. He really loved you too and when we would visit, he took you and Addie (your Nemesis!) to the canyons to run after squirrels and swim until you couldn't move anymore. You were so incredibly sweet and kind that the entire family loved you and missed you when we moved away. But every time they would visit us, or we went there, it was such a great time for you. I wish we could of gone one more time together. I wish you could of gone into the canyon with Robby again. He misses you so much. I know he wishes he had one more time with you sweet girl.
You were doing so great, I had no idea that very shortly I would be saying goodbye to you. You were so incredibly brave and strong. If you were sick, you never showed it. I forgot about the timeline then. I forgot about the 4-6 weeks Dr. Freeman had given you. Too bad the tumor hadn't forgotten. It was growing and slowly beginning to take you from me. It took you and left me with your bed, your bowl, your collar, and your pictures. It left me with an emptiness in my heart that I can't describe. It left me with a fear of loss and a fear of love. It left me wondering if I did all I could do for you. If maybe, just maybe I could of killed the tumor and kept you. It left me with self doubt.
I remember her calling after she got the biopsy results and telling me that on the steroid she thought you would be fine for about 4-6 weeks. I remember her saying that, and I remember thinking she was crazy. I was with you, watching you, you were fine. We would beat this again. You were a fighter, and the prognosis may of been grim, but I had more faith in your zest for life. Yes this time it was different, more aggressive, in a bad spot. But I was convinced they were wrong again. Just like the first time, you would beat this.
Your hearing went. It happened over night. It was right around the time of your biopsy, I can't remember the exact time. You would be in the backyard and when I would open the gate and call you, you would not come. I walked to the other side of the yard and once I was right up on you, you would hear me and jump up with a smile on your face. I chalked it up to old age. I mean a lot of older dogs have bad hearing.
On the fourth of July the neighborhood had a big party to celebrate. You were right there in the thick of it. Running around eating whatever someone had dropped on the ground. Laying in the grass, greeting everyone that approached you with a smile. It was fun to watch you just enjoying the day and all of your friends. The steroid was annoying. You were always hungry. I had to pull you away from many unattended plates of food, and you seemed to never get enough. I felt bad for you. It must of been weird to never feel satisfied. You always loved to eat, don't get me wrong. But this was ten times worse than you normally were. In fact during the fireworks display we had a bit of a mishap where the fireworks all started going off...shooting in every direction. Mass chaos. People running for cover and kids crying. During all of the craziness, I was running down the street to find the kids and there you were. Everyone had jumped up from their seats so quickly, they had left their food behind. You were in heaven. Hot dogs and cookies right on the ground for you to eat! Fireworks were shooting right at you, but you were totally oblivious. Thanks to not hearing very well, and a steroid telling you to eat, eat, eat, you were not even aware of the danger or the others around you running for their lives.
We looked back on that night the next day, and as scary as it was nobody was hurt. The seriousness of the situation made everyone a little on edge. But then the stories of seeing you just as happy as ever eating all the food that was left behind started coming. Everyone was able to laugh, and everyone remembered seeing you at one point during all of the chaos just enjoying life and thinking we had left it all there for you to enjoy! You were able to enjoy the holiday, and I think it was probably one that went in your book as one you would always remember.
You were so funny and so full of life those last few weeks. You seemed tired, and really couldn't sleep well, but it didn't slow you down. Ryan and Stacey came to visit with their kids after the holiday. You were so happy to see them and enjoyed having the attention. I was always amazed at how you remembered everyone. Even though we hadn't lived in Utah for years, if we visited you would always start to whine and got so excited once we were within a mile of my parents house. Your first home. I guess you would always remember it there. But you ran to everyone as if you had been thinking of them, and missing them. You loved Robby the most I think. He really loved you too and when we would visit, he took you and Addie (your Nemesis!) to the canyons to run after squirrels and swim until you couldn't move anymore. You were so incredibly sweet and kind that the entire family loved you and missed you when we moved away. But every time they would visit us, or we went there, it was such a great time for you. I wish we could of gone one more time together. I wish you could of gone into the canyon with Robby again. He misses you so much. I know he wishes he had one more time with you sweet girl.
You were doing so great, I had no idea that very shortly I would be saying goodbye to you. You were so incredibly brave and strong. If you were sick, you never showed it. I forgot about the timeline then. I forgot about the 4-6 weeks Dr. Freeman had given you. Too bad the tumor hadn't forgotten. It was growing and slowly beginning to take you from me. It took you and left me with your bed, your bowl, your collar, and your pictures. It left me with an emptiness in my heart that I can't describe. It left me with a fear of loss and a fear of love. It left me wondering if I did all I could do for you. If maybe, just maybe I could of killed the tumor and kept you. It left me with self doubt.
LIfe progressing.
Your life was moving along as if we were never given your diagnosis of cancer. Besides the occasional visit to Dr. Freeman for blood work, all was normal. Summer 2008 moved into Fall of 2008 and so on. Then before we knew it 2009 was here. You had made it a year past your diagnosis once March hit and showed no sign of stopping! Thank you for that sweet girl. Thank you for being so strong and fighting this disease. You fought it so bravely and with such grace.
The kids got out of school in late June, and summer began. Nights outside with the neighbors. Nights where you received a lot of attention and lots of extra treats. You loved those summer nights. Right up to the last night you were here, you were outside with all the neighbors, just hanging out, being Bailey. And we loved you for it. I feel as if I didn't take advantage of those nights now that you are gone. I should of sat by you longer. Talked to you longer. I shouldn't of gotten angry with you over silly things that you would do. I should of told you I loved you more, and I should of known that things were happening inside you that I couldn't control.
It started out with you having a harder time breathing. You would have what I could only describe as an asthma attack. I was worried, but I think in the back of my head I thought you were fine, I mean look at how far we had come! I took you into see Dr. Freeman. She had moved to a new hospital, Dove Lewis. We went there only two times you and I. Twice I would walk through those doors. But only once would I leave with you next to me.
She said it may be the cancer in your throat again, perhaps on your other tonsil. Maybe even laryngeal paralysis. She recommended a surgeon look at you.
I made an appointment and took you back to see Dr. Howard. He was not able to look down your throat, but was almost certain it was laryngeal paralysis. Another surgery. More stress on you.
Daddy is the one that convinced me to go ahead with the surgery. We would never forgive ourselves if you were to leave us because you couldn't breathe. So, we scheduled the surgery. I took you in early one morning. It was hard to leave you. So hard. You looked back at me with your big brown eyes and the look I saw was one I will not forget. You were telling me no more. No more surgeries. No more Vet's and leaving you alone. You tried pulling back to me, but the girl leading you pulled back. Your eyes did not leave mine as you rounded the corner out of my sight. I kept telling you it was okay. I would be right back. But you knew, and I realized at that moment that you were tired and just wanted to be at home with me and the rest of your family. I felt so bad. So, so bad. I cried for you the whole way home. I waited by the phone. I wanted you home so badly.
Dr. Howard called. He told me the news. The news I had feared, but never would of guessed. Laryngeal paralysis was not to blame for your trouble. It was a tumor. A tumor above your soft palette that was making it hard for you to breathe. It had snuck in when we weren't looking and it was growing. The best thing at the time to do was get a biopsy of it. I didn't want to put you through anything else. There was nothing anyone could do.
I rushed back down to pick you up as soon as they called to let me know you were awake and ready to go home. You were mad at me. Same as always. I don't blame you. I left you and now here you were in pain and groggy from so much medicine. I wish I knew what you were thinking. I wish you could talk and tell me that you were mad, but you would get over it in time. I took you home and led you to your bed where you could rest.
That evening you were very groggy. You couldn't eat your food. Kim (treat lady) gave you some soft food she had on hand for Diamond and Chloe. We had to feed you from our hands, but you ate it and seemed satisfied. You were tired, and just wanted to rest.
I will never forget that night. You came to me that night. You had not wanted anything to do with me after I brought you home. But while the house was quiet, and we had all fallen asleep, you came to me. I woke to you next to our bed. You wanted just to be next to me. I brought you into the playroom so that Daddy wouldn't be woken up. You were snoring so loud then because of the tumor, and it would of kept us all awake. You seemed content to lay on the floor in the playroom and sleep. I went back to sleep then and was surprised to hear you sleeping so quietly. The biopsy may of helped. Just getting some of the fluid out may of been helpful. I was just happy that after such a trying day, you were sleeping soundly. You were close and I was able to sleep knowing that you were no longer mad at me.
This was the end of June. This was the beginning of our last days together sweet girl. I didn't know it then. That June night, when you came to me, I think you wanted to let me know something. I wish I could have that June night back.
The kids got out of school in late June, and summer began. Nights outside with the neighbors. Nights where you received a lot of attention and lots of extra treats. You loved those summer nights. Right up to the last night you were here, you were outside with all the neighbors, just hanging out, being Bailey. And we loved you for it. I feel as if I didn't take advantage of those nights now that you are gone. I should of sat by you longer. Talked to you longer. I shouldn't of gotten angry with you over silly things that you would do. I should of told you I loved you more, and I should of known that things were happening inside you that I couldn't control.
It started out with you having a harder time breathing. You would have what I could only describe as an asthma attack. I was worried, but I think in the back of my head I thought you were fine, I mean look at how far we had come! I took you into see Dr. Freeman. She had moved to a new hospital, Dove Lewis. We went there only two times you and I. Twice I would walk through those doors. But only once would I leave with you next to me.
She said it may be the cancer in your throat again, perhaps on your other tonsil. Maybe even laryngeal paralysis. She recommended a surgeon look at you.
I made an appointment and took you back to see Dr. Howard. He was not able to look down your throat, but was almost certain it was laryngeal paralysis. Another surgery. More stress on you.
Daddy is the one that convinced me to go ahead with the surgery. We would never forgive ourselves if you were to leave us because you couldn't breathe. So, we scheduled the surgery. I took you in early one morning. It was hard to leave you. So hard. You looked back at me with your big brown eyes and the look I saw was one I will not forget. You were telling me no more. No more surgeries. No more Vet's and leaving you alone. You tried pulling back to me, but the girl leading you pulled back. Your eyes did not leave mine as you rounded the corner out of my sight. I kept telling you it was okay. I would be right back. But you knew, and I realized at that moment that you were tired and just wanted to be at home with me and the rest of your family. I felt so bad. So, so bad. I cried for you the whole way home. I waited by the phone. I wanted you home so badly.
Dr. Howard called. He told me the news. The news I had feared, but never would of guessed. Laryngeal paralysis was not to blame for your trouble. It was a tumor. A tumor above your soft palette that was making it hard for you to breathe. It had snuck in when we weren't looking and it was growing. The best thing at the time to do was get a biopsy of it. I didn't want to put you through anything else. There was nothing anyone could do.
I rushed back down to pick you up as soon as they called to let me know you were awake and ready to go home. You were mad at me. Same as always. I don't blame you. I left you and now here you were in pain and groggy from so much medicine. I wish I knew what you were thinking. I wish you could talk and tell me that you were mad, but you would get over it in time. I took you home and led you to your bed where you could rest.
That evening you were very groggy. You couldn't eat your food. Kim (treat lady) gave you some soft food she had on hand for Diamond and Chloe. We had to feed you from our hands, but you ate it and seemed satisfied. You were tired, and just wanted to rest.
I will never forget that night. You came to me that night. You had not wanted anything to do with me after I brought you home. But while the house was quiet, and we had all fallen asleep, you came to me. I woke to you next to our bed. You wanted just to be next to me. I brought you into the playroom so that Daddy wouldn't be woken up. You were snoring so loud then because of the tumor, and it would of kept us all awake. You seemed content to lay on the floor in the playroom and sleep. I went back to sleep then and was surprised to hear you sleeping so quietly. The biopsy may of helped. Just getting some of the fluid out may of been helpful. I was just happy that after such a trying day, you were sleeping soundly. You were close and I was able to sleep knowing that you were no longer mad at me.
This was the end of June. This was the beginning of our last days together sweet girl. I didn't know it then. That June night, when you came to me, I think you wanted to let me know something. I wish I could have that June night back.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Bus Stop Mornings
I was reminded this morning as we were putting Drew on the bus for her first day of fourth grade of a favorite ritual of yours. During the school year when Daddy or myself would walk Drew to the bus stop, you loved to come. I would let you outside in the morning out back where you would wait patiently by the fence. When Daddy would open the garage and get ready to head out with Drew, I would open the fence to let you out. You would come running so fast around the corner, so excited to go see all the kids. Rain or shine, you loved hanging at the bus stop until the kids were on their way!
You were just so convinced that those kids were there just to see you in the morning! Your tail would be wagging as you went up to each of them to say hello. You would stick close by and every time someone showed up for the bus, you would run to them and greet them as well. I have always said you never met a person that wasn't your friend. It was also a chance for you to see Linus, the neighbors cat. He would come to the curb just on the other side of the street just to torment you. Daddy would make you stay and you would sit, but it was the hardest thing you ever had to do! Your eyes wouldn't leave him, and each time Linus moved your body would move forward a little ready to run. It was so hard for you not to just take off after that crazy cat! You were so good though, and always listened. There were a couple times that the temptation got the better of you, and you took off running! Linus would run away so fast and you would turn back to us with a smile on your face and your head held high. Linus is one brave cat, because he came back for more every morning.
I remember being upstairs watching out the window as the bus would drive away on those mornings. You would watch it leave and then Daddy would call you and you would have a big smile on your face as you both came running back to the house. It put a smile on my face every morning to see you so happy. It was so fun for you, and you looked forward to those mornings so much. There were a couple times when Daddy wouldn't take you because it was a rushed morning. I could see the disappointment on your face when Drew would walk out the door. You looked at me with a look of confusion and sadness. I felt so bad because I knew you loved seeing all the kids. It wasn't very often though that you weren't there with them, sending all the kids off to school with your big goofy grin.
This morning was tough. It wasn't until I was down there and saw Gabby sitting at her fence staring up at all of us. She was looking for you too sweet girl. Gabby is just a puppy, but you were her first friend. She was at the bus stop with you many of those mornings. I think she was wondering where her friend was. I know how much everyone loved seeing you every morning, and we all missed your presence there today. It is the little things that get me. I miss seeing that goofy grin running back up the street with Daddy. I miss opening the fence and having to move so that I wouldn't get run over by you. I miss seeing the kids smile when you would go up to greet them. Things are not the same, nor will they ever be. I will cherish those moments, those wonderful mornings forever angel girl.
You were just so convinced that those kids were there just to see you in the morning! Your tail would be wagging as you went up to each of them to say hello. You would stick close by and every time someone showed up for the bus, you would run to them and greet them as well. I have always said you never met a person that wasn't your friend. It was also a chance for you to see Linus, the neighbors cat. He would come to the curb just on the other side of the street just to torment you. Daddy would make you stay and you would sit, but it was the hardest thing you ever had to do! Your eyes wouldn't leave him, and each time Linus moved your body would move forward a little ready to run. It was so hard for you not to just take off after that crazy cat! You were so good though, and always listened. There were a couple times that the temptation got the better of you, and you took off running! Linus would run away so fast and you would turn back to us with a smile on your face and your head held high. Linus is one brave cat, because he came back for more every morning.
I remember being upstairs watching out the window as the bus would drive away on those mornings. You would watch it leave and then Daddy would call you and you would have a big smile on your face as you both came running back to the house. It put a smile on my face every morning to see you so happy. It was so fun for you, and you looked forward to those mornings so much. There were a couple times when Daddy wouldn't take you because it was a rushed morning. I could see the disappointment on your face when Drew would walk out the door. You looked at me with a look of confusion and sadness. I felt so bad because I knew you loved seeing all the kids. It wasn't very often though that you weren't there with them, sending all the kids off to school with your big goofy grin.
This morning was tough. It wasn't until I was down there and saw Gabby sitting at her fence staring up at all of us. She was looking for you too sweet girl. Gabby is just a puppy, but you were her first friend. She was at the bus stop with you many of those mornings. I think she was wondering where her friend was. I know how much everyone loved seeing you every morning, and we all missed your presence there today. It is the little things that get me. I miss seeing that goofy grin running back up the street with Daddy. I miss opening the fence and having to move so that I wouldn't get run over by you. I miss seeing the kids smile when you would go up to greet them. Things are not the same, nor will they ever be. I will cherish those moments, those wonderful mornings forever angel girl.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
The jingle of your collar
Once we moved to Washington we learned that instead of having you next to us at night on your bed, your body had other plans. Because of the arthritis that took over your bones, it was hard for you to climb the stairs. So after deliberating, and a little bit of Daddy worrying about the carpet, we moved you to the family room. Your bed had a corner, your own place of comfort. It was not next to me, like you had always been, but you liked it. It was your own. I think it was because you were still in the center of everything there. You could watch the kids come and go, see me in the kitchen and hang out with me in the evenings.
There was only one problem with being downstairs. You were getting older, and you were on medication that made your bladder seem a little smaller in those days. So you needed to go out at night at least once. But how was I supposed to know when you needed me? Once the routine of you being downstairs started, you figured out a way to wake me up at night. It helped that I was a light sleeper of course, and also that you and I had a way of communicating thanks to our strong bond.
So I would be asleep. Then I would hear a "click click click" of your nails on the wood floor. Soon after, once I was trying to ignore it and fall back asleep, you would shake your head so that the noise of your collar would for sure wake me. I would open my eyes, try and move and if I didn't, if I wasn't quick enough, another shake. And to top that off a short of annoyed yawn that I can't put into words would echo up the stairs. It became your trademark in those last years, that annoyed sort of yawn. We all laughed and tried to copy it when you would do it. We knew it was just a way for you to let us know you needed something, wanted to be left alone, were bored, or just plain wanted us to pay attention to you. But it would come, and I would be up on my feet stumbling down the stairs.
The best part about those nights, even though I was tired and my eyes were barely open was seeing your face. There you would be at the bottom of the stairs, sitting looking straight up at me. You would stand and start to pant with a smile coming to your face followed by a tail wagging. You were so happy to see me. "Thanks for coming!" you seemed to say with your eyes. I would let you out and wait for you to use the bathroom or get a drink of water. And even on the nights when I may of been annoyed at you for getting me up several times, I never could go back upstairs without watching you lay back on your bed and rubbing the top of your head. I guess it was my way of letting you know "Anytime sweet girl, anytime."
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Pride and Bunnies.
The moments I remember during that time, the last year and a half (almost) of your life, are happy ones. You with your white face running towards me with a big smile. You laying on your bed making sure that I was near while Daddy and I watched TV in the evenings. The neighborhood summer nightly gathering "wine 30" where you were so affectionately named the official "mascot." Boy did you love it there! Cookies, steak, pizza etc. etc. All for you. Everyone loved you there and you were content to lay on the cool grass and listen to us all chat and socialize. The occasional visit from another neighborhood dog got you off the grass just to make sure they knew you were there first and to back off, and then you would go lay back down in your spot and begin to listen again.
We took you to the beach in January of 2009. You loved to chase the seagulls and loved to run after the water as it drew back into the ocean. At first you were a little worried about the waves, not too sure of the water rushing at you. You had swam in lakes only before, and the ocean was a new, inviting and exciting thing in your life once we moved to Washington. After a bit of getting used to, you loved it. Of course you did, you loved any body of water. When you were a puppy in Arizona you would jump into the man made lake in our neighborhood and swim so far away from me in hopes of catching a duck! I would be so worried that if something happened I would have to jump in and try and get to you as quick as I could possibly swim (and I can't swim very well!). But you were always fine. And when the ducks would tire of you swimming after them, they would take flight from the water to get away. The best part was watching you too try and take flight. You would lift the front of your body as high as you could and move your two front legs willing them, pleading with them to take you up and out of the water too. And even though your body never performed in that way, you would turn back and swim to me with the biggest smile on your face! "Look Mom!" " I scared them away!" You seemed to be saying.
One time in the summer of 2008 you were at the park with me and the kids. I was watching the kids play, you were off your leash just wandering around searching for food that some kid had left behind. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a rabbit run across the grass field. I saw that you saw it too, your ears perked right up. I remember thinking there was no way you could catch that thing, not with the TPLO surgeries you had on your legs and the arthritis they welcomed into your bones. You had other ideas though. Off you went....fast, very fast. Moving like you were a puppy again, moving like once again you were begging your body to do this for you, let you get this bunny. I started thinking that I better run after you in the case that the bunny headed for the road. Just then you disappeared into a cluster of trees in the corner of the park. I stopped running and waited for movement. Then out of the trees you came. Prancing toward me with just a slight limp. Head held high and big smile on your face. As you got closer I realized other than the smile on your face, there was an awful lot of blood. You had gotten it. The poor bunny thought it was going to make it when it saw your slower older body, but no. That poor bunny had never met you and your determination. I couldn't scold you. I had to just be happy for you. You had done it. Cancer and all. You got the bunny.
After cleaning off the blood and telling the neighbors about it, you sat on the grass proud. You knew you had it in you still. I think you wanted to let me know not to worry, you could will that tired body of yours to do whatever it needed to do.
I was proud of you. And everytime we went back to the park you would prance to the trees and sniff around hoping to have one more go of it with that little bunny. I would keep a close eye on you from there on out. If a bunny or a kitty crossed your path, I wanted to give the poor things a little head start at least! Nothing gave me more happiness then seeing you run like that again sweet girl. I was so happy to see you in your old form. I wanted to take you back to the lake in Arizona and see if maybe, just maybe, your body would listen to you this time and take flight with those ducks. I wouldn't of been surprised if it had.
We took you to the beach in January of 2009. You loved to chase the seagulls and loved to run after the water as it drew back into the ocean. At first you were a little worried about the waves, not too sure of the water rushing at you. You had swam in lakes only before, and the ocean was a new, inviting and exciting thing in your life once we moved to Washington. After a bit of getting used to, you loved it. Of course you did, you loved any body of water. When you were a puppy in Arizona you would jump into the man made lake in our neighborhood and swim so far away from me in hopes of catching a duck! I would be so worried that if something happened I would have to jump in and try and get to you as quick as I could possibly swim (and I can't swim very well!). But you were always fine. And when the ducks would tire of you swimming after them, they would take flight from the water to get away. The best part was watching you too try and take flight. You would lift the front of your body as high as you could and move your two front legs willing them, pleading with them to take you up and out of the water too. And even though your body never performed in that way, you would turn back and swim to me with the biggest smile on your face! "Look Mom!" " I scared them away!" You seemed to be saying.
One time in the summer of 2008 you were at the park with me and the kids. I was watching the kids play, you were off your leash just wandering around searching for food that some kid had left behind. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a rabbit run across the grass field. I saw that you saw it too, your ears perked right up. I remember thinking there was no way you could catch that thing, not with the TPLO surgeries you had on your legs and the arthritis they welcomed into your bones. You had other ideas though. Off you went....fast, very fast. Moving like you were a puppy again, moving like once again you were begging your body to do this for you, let you get this bunny. I started thinking that I better run after you in the case that the bunny headed for the road. Just then you disappeared into a cluster of trees in the corner of the park. I stopped running and waited for movement. Then out of the trees you came. Prancing toward me with just a slight limp. Head held high and big smile on your face. As you got closer I realized other than the smile on your face, there was an awful lot of blood. You had gotten it. The poor bunny thought it was going to make it when it saw your slower older body, but no. That poor bunny had never met you and your determination. I couldn't scold you. I had to just be happy for you. You had done it. Cancer and all. You got the bunny.
After cleaning off the blood and telling the neighbors about it, you sat on the grass proud. You knew you had it in you still. I think you wanted to let me know not to worry, you could will that tired body of yours to do whatever it needed to do.
I was proud of you. And everytime we went back to the park you would prance to the trees and sniff around hoping to have one more go of it with that little bunny. I would keep a close eye on you from there on out. If a bunny or a kitty crossed your path, I wanted to give the poor things a little head start at least! Nothing gave me more happiness then seeing you run like that again sweet girl. I was so happy to see you in your old form. I wanted to take you back to the lake in Arizona and see if maybe, just maybe, your body would listen to you this time and take flight with those ducks. I wouldn't of been surprised if it had.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
An emotional day.
I am getting off track here. I had intended to stick to my timeline. the timeline of your diagnosis to July 25th, 2009.
But I am off track in my life right now, so I am going off here too.
I miss you. I am walking around the yard pulling weeds today when suddenly tears begin to fall. There is the spot you loved to lay in. There is the rock you drank rain water from. There is the other spot you loved because the dirt was always damp so the spot was always cool.
When I went to get the broom, there was your collar. And your leash. With the poop bag holder newly stuffed full of bags. I think back to the day I put those bags in. July 23rd. Papa took you to the park. You loved Papa, and loved the park.
I remember watching you trot off with him. I was running with the kids to get some dinner. You seemed so happy and so healthy. But things were brewing and that nasty tumor was beginning its evil plot of taking you from me. Shortly there after, you would be gone.
It is amazing the amount of grief that takes over when this happens. Sadness, disbelief, anger, loneliness. All of it comes at me like a giant wave that I can't run from. It is a tsunami. Too big, too fast, and too forceful to ignore. I lay on the floor next to your bed. I was up until late last night thinking of you and where you slept in all the houses we lived in. I couldn't remember the spot in our home in Utah. I had to text Daddy. Sometime as I was beginning to drift off, it started to become clear. You slept next to me. You always slept by me in the early years.
When I came inside I called Jackie. We talked about stuff, normal stuff. Until I brought you up and then I cried and recounted what my day had been like today to her. She told me to cry, not to worry. She understood my love for you.
I understand that I am supposed to miss you. Be sad, grieve, cry, etc. etc. What I am experiencing is more than that though. It is bigger and more painful then I ever expected. How could I have determined what my grief would feel like? How was I to know that your death meant a big part of me would be missing too. I told Drew the other day when we were in the car that it felt like someone took a shovel and scooped out a lot of my insides when you died. I feel empty without you. I have love and I have happiness with Daddy and the kids that I am grateful for. I love them all so much. But the house is missing something with you gone. A big something. I can't explain what it is. But we have all been effected by it. We all carry it around on our sleeves as if it is a burden we must bear. We are happy, life is good. But not the same. It never will be sweet girl. Not unless you come back. Can you? Please? The wind will blow sometimes and I feel like it is you telling me you are near. The wind chimes out back are bittersweet to hear. They remind me of you, but also of our last night together. I want a sign from you, something to tell me you are okay. Something to tell me you are not mad at me and that I made the right choice to let you go. See, I just miss you so much and I feel not only this tremendous sadness, but guilt as well. I think it was the right decision. I want you back to let me know that it was. Or not.
I keep picturing when they took you from me on the gurney. You heart had stopped, but mine was still beating. Mine was broken and yours was stopped. You looked at peace on the gurney. But my heart and mind were not at peace. Will they ever be at peace angel girl?
But I am off track in my life right now, so I am going off here too.
I miss you. I am walking around the yard pulling weeds today when suddenly tears begin to fall. There is the spot you loved to lay in. There is the rock you drank rain water from. There is the other spot you loved because the dirt was always damp so the spot was always cool.
When I went to get the broom, there was your collar. And your leash. With the poop bag holder newly stuffed full of bags. I think back to the day I put those bags in. July 23rd. Papa took you to the park. You loved Papa, and loved the park.
I remember watching you trot off with him. I was running with the kids to get some dinner. You seemed so happy and so healthy. But things were brewing and that nasty tumor was beginning its evil plot of taking you from me. Shortly there after, you would be gone.
It is amazing the amount of grief that takes over when this happens. Sadness, disbelief, anger, loneliness. All of it comes at me like a giant wave that I can't run from. It is a tsunami. Too big, too fast, and too forceful to ignore. I lay on the floor next to your bed. I was up until late last night thinking of you and where you slept in all the houses we lived in. I couldn't remember the spot in our home in Utah. I had to text Daddy. Sometime as I was beginning to drift off, it started to become clear. You slept next to me. You always slept by me in the early years.
When I came inside I called Jackie. We talked about stuff, normal stuff. Until I brought you up and then I cried and recounted what my day had been like today to her. She told me to cry, not to worry. She understood my love for you.
I understand that I am supposed to miss you. Be sad, grieve, cry, etc. etc. What I am experiencing is more than that though. It is bigger and more painful then I ever expected. How could I have determined what my grief would feel like? How was I to know that your death meant a big part of me would be missing too. I told Drew the other day when we were in the car that it felt like someone took a shovel and scooped out a lot of my insides when you died. I feel empty without you. I have love and I have happiness with Daddy and the kids that I am grateful for. I love them all so much. But the house is missing something with you gone. A big something. I can't explain what it is. But we have all been effected by it. We all carry it around on our sleeves as if it is a burden we must bear. We are happy, life is good. But not the same. It never will be sweet girl. Not unless you come back. Can you? Please? The wind will blow sometimes and I feel like it is you telling me you are near. The wind chimes out back are bittersweet to hear. They remind me of you, but also of our last night together. I want a sign from you, something to tell me you are okay. Something to tell me you are not mad at me and that I made the right choice to let you go. See, I just miss you so much and I feel not only this tremendous sadness, but guilt as well. I think it was the right decision. I want you back to let me know that it was. Or not.
I keep picturing when they took you from me on the gurney. You heart had stopped, but mine was still beating. Mine was broken and yours was stopped. You looked at peace on the gurney. But my heart and mind were not at peace. Will they ever be at peace angel girl?
Monday, August 31, 2009
September 2008. A milestone reached.
We made it. Only a few months prior I had thought we would not have you here on your eleventh birthday. Here you were, and healthy to boot. You made it angel girl! You were doing great and that 4-6 month timeline was up.
Our neighbor, Kim, you know her...the treat lady? With the bones in her garage and her puppies Diamond and Chloe there to greet you every time the garage opened and you made a beeline for the treats? Yeah, her. She sure loved you sweet girl. Diamond and Chloe were for the most part happy to share their treats with you too. Well she said it best that beautiful September day, she said "everyone thinks Bailey is sick except Bailey!" It was so true. You were just living your life as if we were all crazy to think anything was wrong. Happy to partake in the sympathy if only for the extra snacks, food under the table, and love you received. You must of thought we had all just finally realized how wonderful you were and how much you deserved all those "extras"!
So that September 15th you rolled in the grass, ate a giant bone that Papa brought you, and showed off the new collar I had bought you. You were smiling all day I swear. We sang Happy Birthday and you looked at us as if we had lost it, but still smiled.
We were all so happy to have you there with us still. So happy and just grateful that you seemed to be in no pain and completely at peace with your life.
I laid next to you that night after everyone else had gone to bed. I wanted you to know how grateful I was to you for being such a wonderful dog and more than that really. You were my girl for eleven years. You had been there through so much with me. Marriage, the birth of both kids, and so much more. So much more. I am so incredibly lucky that you were there for me through all if it. You were more than just a dog, you were a huge part of my heart.
Friday, August 28, 2009
The giant man eating cyst.
About the same time you were diagnosed you started to grow a bump on your left ear. When I brought you to Dr. Cleveland to look at it, he said it was a sebaceous cyst. No big deal. It didn't bother you, and suggested to just leave it alone. At that time it was about the size of a walnut, so I didn't think much more about it.
Well a walnut turned into a golf ball, which turned into sort of a baked potato looking thing hanging off your ear. It was both hilarious and horrible all at the same time. I mean give me a break! You had enough on your plate already! Now this horrific thing that made your head hang a little to one side, and also made it difficult for you to shake your head back and forth. It became a problem and we felt so bad just looking at you!
Dr. Freeman said the same thing Dr. Cleveland said to us, "no big deal, isn't painful, leave it be." We did leave it be for the most part. We had a routine. We would try and drain this giant thing on our own sometimes. A needle, a lot of paper towels, blood and disgusting fluid were all included in the routine. It became a joke in our family...Nicolas would say "cyst juice comin up!" And the needle would go in a squirt of "cyst juice" would arch it's way across the grass with either me or Stan holding pressure on the cyst. Lots of nasty things would come out, but the pressure on the skin would be relieved and the cyst would lose some of it's weight. You seemed a little relieved after our routine was done. Until about an hour later when it would fill back up and be just as full again! We went through this month after month. Neighbors would come by and run the other way when they saw what looked to be a murder scene in our front yard. We became so used to this disgusting act, that it became no big deal for us to squeeze this nasty stuff from your ear. But sure enough the relief was always short lived for you. It always came back, and your head would start to hang to one side again. About the beginning of 2009 your ear was so heavy that it begin to effect your eye. It was getting all gross and you were constantly pawing at it.
So after dealing with the thing that had become it's own zip code basically for months and months, we decided enough was enough and started looking into having it removed. In came OSU and the Veterinary teaching hospital.
The surgery was successful. The staff at OSU was wonderful and treated you very well. You had to spend two nights away from me. That was hard. On both of us. You had not been at a strange place like that for more than one night before. I hated it and worried. But you were fine. I went to pick you up and again you treated me horribly. You were mad, tired, and in a little pain. Not to mention the "Cone of Shame" they made you wear. Two weeks they told me to keep this on you. Um, we lasted one week. It was too pitiful to watch. You would run into everything and could barely eat your food with that thing on. One week was long enough. Your ear looked great. It healed up very nicely and one would never guess that you had such a giant man eating cyst on it at one time. You were back to normal, and we were happy to have you back.
One thing...when the lab work was done on the cyst (standard protocol), it came back that it in fact was not just a sebaceous cyst. But another form of cancer. The Oncologist at OSU was confidant that it was all removed with the cyst. But we were told to keep an eye on your lymph nodes. If it were to still be present, it would move and move fast. Into your lungs and then we would have no choice but to say goodbye. That was one thing I was certainly not ready to do. So, I watched you like a hawk after that. I made sure that both Dr. Freeman and Dr. Cleveland were aware of how disappointed I was at their way of handling the cyst. For almost a year they told me to leave it alone and not to worry. I wanted them to know that if the fact that I trusted them took you from me even one day, one hour, one minute sooner...I would hold them responsible.
The Cone of Shame!!!
Well a walnut turned into a golf ball, which turned into sort of a baked potato looking thing hanging off your ear. It was both hilarious and horrible all at the same time. I mean give me a break! You had enough on your plate already! Now this horrific thing that made your head hang a little to one side, and also made it difficult for you to shake your head back and forth. It became a problem and we felt so bad just looking at you!
Dr. Freeman said the same thing Dr. Cleveland said to us, "no big deal, isn't painful, leave it be." We did leave it be for the most part. We had a routine. We would try and drain this giant thing on our own sometimes. A needle, a lot of paper towels, blood and disgusting fluid were all included in the routine. It became a joke in our family...Nicolas would say "cyst juice comin up!" And the needle would go in a squirt of "cyst juice" would arch it's way across the grass with either me or Stan holding pressure on the cyst. Lots of nasty things would come out, but the pressure on the skin would be relieved and the cyst would lose some of it's weight. You seemed a little relieved after our routine was done. Until about an hour later when it would fill back up and be just as full again! We went through this month after month. Neighbors would come by and run the other way when they saw what looked to be a murder scene in our front yard. We became so used to this disgusting act, that it became no big deal for us to squeeze this nasty stuff from your ear. But sure enough the relief was always short lived for you. It always came back, and your head would start to hang to one side again. About the beginning of 2009 your ear was so heavy that it begin to effect your eye. It was getting all gross and you were constantly pawing at it.
So after dealing with the thing that had become it's own zip code basically for months and months, we decided enough was enough and started looking into having it removed. In came OSU and the Veterinary teaching hospital.
The surgery was successful. The staff at OSU was wonderful and treated you very well. You had to spend two nights away from me. That was hard. On both of us. You had not been at a strange place like that for more than one night before. I hated it and worried. But you were fine. I went to pick you up and again you treated me horribly. You were mad, tired, and in a little pain. Not to mention the "Cone of Shame" they made you wear. Two weeks they told me to keep this on you. Um, we lasted one week. It was too pitiful to watch. You would run into everything and could barely eat your food with that thing on. One week was long enough. Your ear looked great. It healed up very nicely and one would never guess that you had such a giant man eating cyst on it at one time. You were back to normal, and we were happy to have you back.
One thing...when the lab work was done on the cyst (standard protocol), it came back that it in fact was not just a sebaceous cyst. But another form of cancer. The Oncologist at OSU was confidant that it was all removed with the cyst. But we were told to keep an eye on your lymph nodes. If it were to still be present, it would move and move fast. Into your lungs and then we would have no choice but to say goodbye. That was one thing I was certainly not ready to do. So, I watched you like a hawk after that. I made sure that both Dr. Freeman and Dr. Cleveland were aware of how disappointed I was at their way of handling the cyst. For almost a year they told me to leave it alone and not to worry. I wanted them to know that if the fact that I trusted them took you from me even one day, one hour, one minute sooner...I would hold them responsible.
Pre-Surgery looking a little worried!
Post-surgery. Shaved head and loss
of just a little pride I think!
The Cone of Shame!!!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
More decisions
After our fateful trip to the Internist and my trip to Utah, I was so grateful to be back home with you. There was about a week that I spent agonizing over my decision to not do the chemo. There was a week of guilt, phone calls to friends, a lot of research on the Internet, and a lot of love for you and from you. After agonizing over a week about my decision, I received a call from Dr. Cleveland.
Sweet Dr. Cleveland. Your "regular" vet. We had met him soon after we moved Washington and we both (you and I) liked him right away. He was easy to talk to, and always took the time to address all my concerns. He called you "old moose" sometimes and you never were offended. He got down on his arthritic knees and talked to you, looking you right in the eyes.
He had received the report from your diagnosis. He was calling with concern and also an idea. There are two Veterinarian Oncologists in the Portland area. He suggested that if it were his dog, he would pay the consultation fee to get their opinion. If anything, just for peace of mind. He told me about special diets, and told me that I should never second guess my decision about the chemo. He understood why I had decided against it. But was really adamant about me calling an Oncologist for you.
Enter Dr. Freeman. She was a nice, petite woman who was very knowledgeable and helpful. That first appointment with her, you were nervous. I think you could smell the cancer and the chemo in the air. You may of thought I would be leaving you for your treatment. But once we met Dr. Freeman, you seemed to relax a little. She went over the type of cancer, asked me the history of how we ended up there in her office and provided a lot of answers. She suggested that we send the tissue to another lab and have it tested further. See, depending on the type of cell, how it grew etc. would have a lot to do with the best way to treat you. So we decided to send it back to the lab and go from there.
That sweet girl was the best thing we could of done for you. It came back that yes you had the cancer, but it was a small cell and very slow growing type. We would only have to give you and oral dose of chemo to treat it. One pill, once a day, no side effects.
I was happy. Four to six months came and went. We were in the clear, out of the woods. Your blood work continued to come back looking great, the cancer was not moving through your lymph nodes. You were beating that horrible, life sucking disease. We were so happy.
We stayed with Dr. Freeman. We never went back to the Internist, to the surgeon at her office, yes. But never to her. I would hear from her again, much to my dismay. It was if the cancer was telling me, you may of gotten a break then, but this time the Internist and I will have our way.
But for now, we were just grateful that you were doing so well and handling the treatment with no issues at all. You were strong baby girl, so strong. Your heart was beating and you were not ready to give up on your life. It was too good and too much fun.
Sweet Dr. Cleveland. Your "regular" vet. We had met him soon after we moved Washington and we both (you and I) liked him right away. He was easy to talk to, and always took the time to address all my concerns. He called you "old moose" sometimes and you never were offended. He got down on his arthritic knees and talked to you, looking you right in the eyes.
He had received the report from your diagnosis. He was calling with concern and also an idea. There are two Veterinarian Oncologists in the Portland area. He suggested that if it were his dog, he would pay the consultation fee to get their opinion. If anything, just for peace of mind. He told me about special diets, and told me that I should never second guess my decision about the chemo. He understood why I had decided against it. But was really adamant about me calling an Oncologist for you.
Enter Dr. Freeman. She was a nice, petite woman who was very knowledgeable and helpful. That first appointment with her, you were nervous. I think you could smell the cancer and the chemo in the air. You may of thought I would be leaving you for your treatment. But once we met Dr. Freeman, you seemed to relax a little. She went over the type of cancer, asked me the history of how we ended up there in her office and provided a lot of answers. She suggested that we send the tissue to another lab and have it tested further. See, depending on the type of cell, how it grew etc. would have a lot to do with the best way to treat you. So we decided to send it back to the lab and go from there.
That sweet girl was the best thing we could of done for you. It came back that yes you had the cancer, but it was a small cell and very slow growing type. We would only have to give you and oral dose of chemo to treat it. One pill, once a day, no side effects.
I was happy. Four to six months came and went. We were in the clear, out of the woods. Your blood work continued to come back looking great, the cancer was not moving through your lymph nodes. You were beating that horrible, life sucking disease. We were so happy.
We stayed with Dr. Freeman. We never went back to the Internist, to the surgeon at her office, yes. But never to her. I would hear from her again, much to my dismay. It was if the cancer was telling me, you may of gotten a break then, but this time the Internist and I will have our way.
But for now, we were just grateful that you were doing so well and handling the treatment with no issues at all. You were strong baby girl, so strong. Your heart was beating and you were not ready to give up on your life. It was too good and too much fun.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
The Internist.
So there we were. Waiting in another office of a different Vet. One of the Internal Medicine specialty. I looked at them all the same up until that point. They were Vets. People who loved animals so much they wanted to go into practice to heal them. In turn they were there to sympathize, empathize with the animals human counterparts, right?
Not her. She was so matter of fact about everything. I don't even remember her name at this point, I just know she put me through a lot of despair and grief with her matter of fact, know it all attitude. Grief and despair that didn't need to happen. At least not yet.
"So, Bailey has lymphoma." she said. I remember thinking she could of said that with a little bit of "oh I am so sorry to hear that your sweet dog has lymphoma." thrown in. Nope she was to the point. I guess some people may like that way of handling this situation. I didn't. I saw the poster on her door. A poster with a picture that included several breeds of dogs. On the top of the poster it said "One in three dogs will die from cancer." I thought to myself this lady probably looks at that and smiles each day. For without that statistic, her job surely wouldn't be so fun right!?
Did I mention I didn't like this woman? Yeah, I didn't.
She went through standard chemo protocol. Telling me the schedule,the survival rates, the remission statistics etc. Then she breaks out the money part of it. And tells me in no uncertain terms that if I opt not to come up with this money and put my dog only on the steroid, she will be gone in four to six months.
There you were sitting there with your eyebrows alternating between left and right. Studying me. Happy, just nervous and ready to leave. We walked through that door twenty minutes ago and you were fine. Now I was losing you at a very rapid rate.
I drove home barley able to see the road. My eyes were foggy and full of tears. I was calling everyone I knew that would listen. I felt the stares of the people in other cars. We were stuck in traffic so their eyes had time to linger on the crazy lady next to them. I wonder what they thought of me then. Maybe they thought work had been hard that day, or perhaps I had been fired? Little did they know I was convinced that I needed $5000.00 or I would be saying goodbye to my sweet girl very shortly.
I was leaving for Utah the next day! Oh how could I possibly leave you for any amount of time when I had such a short time left with you! I knew I had to go. I had to make a lot of decisions in just a few short hours. Decisions that would save you or decisions that may take you from me too soon.
I remember being at my parents home the next day. I stayed in bed most the day completely depressed and confused. Stan was in Utah too. You were with some good friends of ours. In good hands. But I wanted to be with you more than anything then. I hated myself for leaving you, for coming on this trip. I am sure everyone there including my parents wished I had stayed home too. I had to call the Internist back. I had to tell her my decision to start the steroid. I felt like I was telling her that you were not important enough to spend the money on the chemo. I knew that wasn't true, I knew you were more important than that. Important enough that your quality of life took precedence over anything else. She was awful. She made me feel bad. And then when she found out I wasn't even home! Oh! Wow she was horrified that I would of left at a time like this! Now I know she was more concerned with her time and I was wasting it. She told me to pick up the steroid once I was home from my little "vacation" at out regular Vet's office. I hung up and cried for the next few days until I was on the plane headed back to you. I was determined then to live everyday as if it were your last. To feed you whatever you wanted and take you everywhere with me. The beach, the mountains, the park. McDonalds for ice cream, everywhere. I was going to make your last few months the best of your life.
Not her. She was so matter of fact about everything. I don't even remember her name at this point, I just know she put me through a lot of despair and grief with her matter of fact, know it all attitude. Grief and despair that didn't need to happen. At least not yet.
"So, Bailey has lymphoma." she said. I remember thinking she could of said that with a little bit of "oh I am so sorry to hear that your sweet dog has lymphoma." thrown in. Nope she was to the point. I guess some people may like that way of handling this situation. I didn't. I saw the poster on her door. A poster with a picture that included several breeds of dogs. On the top of the poster it said "One in three dogs will die from cancer." I thought to myself this lady probably looks at that and smiles each day. For without that statistic, her job surely wouldn't be so fun right!?
Did I mention I didn't like this woman? Yeah, I didn't.
She went through standard chemo protocol. Telling me the schedule,the survival rates, the remission statistics etc. Then she breaks out the money part of it. And tells me in no uncertain terms that if I opt not to come up with this money and put my dog only on the steroid, she will be gone in four to six months.
There you were sitting there with your eyebrows alternating between left and right. Studying me. Happy, just nervous and ready to leave. We walked through that door twenty minutes ago and you were fine. Now I was losing you at a very rapid rate.
I drove home barley able to see the road. My eyes were foggy and full of tears. I was calling everyone I knew that would listen. I felt the stares of the people in other cars. We were stuck in traffic so their eyes had time to linger on the crazy lady next to them. I wonder what they thought of me then. Maybe they thought work had been hard that day, or perhaps I had been fired? Little did they know I was convinced that I needed $5000.00 or I would be saying goodbye to my sweet girl very shortly.
I was leaving for Utah the next day! Oh how could I possibly leave you for any amount of time when I had such a short time left with you! I knew I had to go. I had to make a lot of decisions in just a few short hours. Decisions that would save you or decisions that may take you from me too soon.
I remember being at my parents home the next day. I stayed in bed most the day completely depressed and confused. Stan was in Utah too. You were with some good friends of ours. In good hands. But I wanted to be with you more than anything then. I hated myself for leaving you, for coming on this trip. I am sure everyone there including my parents wished I had stayed home too. I had to call the Internist back. I had to tell her my decision to start the steroid. I felt like I was telling her that you were not important enough to spend the money on the chemo. I knew that wasn't true, I knew you were more important than that. Important enough that your quality of life took precedence over anything else. She was awful. She made me feel bad. And then when she found out I wasn't even home! Oh! Wow she was horrified that I would of left at a time like this! Now I know she was more concerned with her time and I was wasting it. She told me to pick up the steroid once I was home from my little "vacation" at out regular Vet's office. I hung up and cried for the next few days until I was on the plane headed back to you. I was determined then to live everyday as if it were your last. To feed you whatever you wanted and take you everywhere with me. The beach, the mountains, the park. McDonalds for ice cream, everywhere. I was going to make your last few months the best of your life.
The first diagnosis
July 25th 2009. Who knew the depth of sadness I would discover inside myself upon your passing? I told myself over and over that day to be strong. I had in a sense been preparing for that moment for a year and a half. When I was told you had lymphoma back in March of 2008. I was told then that we would have you for at the most 4-6 months with the Prednisone. I didn't want to put you through chemo. I wanted you to have a comfortable and happy life. Not one spent in vet offices with an IV in you dripping poison into your system. All alone, without me. I could only think of what would go through your mind...."I am fine, why is she leaving me???" "this junk is only making me feel horrible!" "I must of done something to make them mad at me."
Nope I couldn't do that to you. That surgery to remove the tonsil and mass that would reveal itself to be the lymphoma was hard on you. Leaving you at the office of Dr. Howard was hard on me. I was afraid of the outcome. Afraid of what he would tell me. When I picked you up later that day, you were mad at me. In your way of showing me that you didn't want anything to do with me you acted as if you were not happy to see me when I showed up to rescue you. You turned your face from me when I tried to talk to you, kiss you on your sweet face. I was used to this, I had seen it before. I knew you were so happy I was there though. I had come to get you and you couldn't wait to be home with me.
A few days later I was called and told it was lymphoma. To come in and talk with the internist who could tell me what the standard protocol was for this. I was nervous, but had a positive feeling that all would be okay for some reason. It was just a diagnosis, I was sure we could beat it. You were fine. Never acting sick. Recovering fantastically from the tonsil mass removal. Normal, happy, hungry, sweet Bailey. How sick could you be?
This sweet girl was the beginning of our life at different Vet offices, and the beginning of me realizing how much I really needed you in my life.
Nope I couldn't do that to you. That surgery to remove the tonsil and mass that would reveal itself to be the lymphoma was hard on you. Leaving you at the office of Dr. Howard was hard on me. I was afraid of the outcome. Afraid of what he would tell me. When I picked you up later that day, you were mad at me. In your way of showing me that you didn't want anything to do with me you acted as if you were not happy to see me when I showed up to rescue you. You turned your face from me when I tried to talk to you, kiss you on your sweet face. I was used to this, I had seen it before. I knew you were so happy I was there though. I had come to get you and you couldn't wait to be home with me.
A few days later I was called and told it was lymphoma. To come in and talk with the internist who could tell me what the standard protocol was for this. I was nervous, but had a positive feeling that all would be okay for some reason. It was just a diagnosis, I was sure we could beat it. You were fine. Never acting sick. Recovering fantastically from the tonsil mass removal. Normal, happy, hungry, sweet Bailey. How sick could you be?
This sweet girl was the beginning of our life at different Vet offices, and the beginning of me realizing how much I really needed you in my life.
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