I am happy to report that Clyde did great at his first treatment today. He has not yet had any side effects, except for being a bit drowsy this afternoon after we got him home (duh, he was under anesthesia!). He’s such a brave guy…and so easygoing and friendly. He wags his little stump at everyone he meets – vets, techs, random people in the lobby – and demands that they scratch him. As soon as he is even slightly comfortable with someone, he begs for belly rubs. He had a Flying Dutchman on the way home – partly to celebrate his first successful treatment and partly to honor his sister. Holly would be so annoyed by all of this…and who can blame her? Isn’t is JUST LIKE a monkey butt to suddenly get his own cancer so that he can refocus the attention on himself?!
Isn’t he just the most handsome fella?
I’m so glad he’s doing well so far – I feel so guilty that I’m not doing more research and that I feel like I’m not considering each and every possible side effect of treatment or every possible outcome depending on every different possible factor (for one thing, I’ve learned that you can’t possibly come up with every possible scenario – even your doctors can’t – so it will just drive you crazy to try). But mainly, I’m so physically, financially, and most of all emotionally drained that I just haven’t been able to throw myself into it the way I did for Holly. Granted, I have already read all of the cancer books, so I at least have a working knowledge of things, and he had already benefited from some of the things that I was doing for Holly, but I was always looking at things from the perspective of OSA, surgery, and chemo, not melanoma, radiation, and vaccination. I have tons of notes, tons of sites bookmarked, a file of articles that I haven’t even read all the way through yet (a file labeled Holly), and I get the daily digests from the yahoo groups (I should probably stop getting the one from bone cancer dogs – it just makes me upset…but maybe I’ll stick with artemisinin in case it’s useful for Clyde). The problem is – I did all of this research with Holly in mind. I agonized over what her treatment plan should be – both now and when the chemo ended. There were lots of things that I was going to do for her once chemo was done that we never even got a chance to try. Now, it really hurts to go back and look at all of it, so much so that I’m having difficulty doing it. It’s such a huge reminder of how short her journey was cut. If Holly were still here, even though it would be overwhelming, it wouldn’t be quite as devastating. When we found out that Clyde had cancer, we were completely devastated. We didn’t think it could get any worse…Holly sat with me on the couch while I looked up the different possible diagnoses and treatments. Everything was easier as long as I had her here with me…and then it got worse. In a forum post today, Jerry mentioned that hopefully I will be able to use her strength as I go through this with Clyde. That was a helpful thought; I had thought about it while she was alive, but felt like I had lost that once she was gone. Now I will try harder to draw inspiration from her.
Here’s the confession part. I don’t even want to write this. I don’t want to admit it; it makes me cry to express it out loud and announce to the world that I’m kind of a terrible person. I’m sitting with Clyde next to me and I’m SO GLAD that he’s here. He cracks me up with his goofy personality. I love listening to his absurdly loud snoring. He is so great with everyone he meets, which Holly sometimes struggled with. He’s ridiculously adorable. He loves to snuggle. I love him. Very much. I want him to beat this disease and stay here with me forever, and I will do absolutely everything in my power to help him fight. When it is his time, I know that I will be out of my mind with grief, exactly the way I am now.
I love all of my dogs equally….but I do think I love them differently. They all need different things from me and I get different things from all of them. I would give anything to get Holly back, except another member of my family. But Holly was an amazingly special dog. From the day I met her, I knew that we were meant to be. She was the one who took care of me, who sat quietly with me while I cried, and who always seemed to understand when I needed her. As an example, a few weeks ago I was pretty sick, and I was in bed all day. Holly used to come snuggle in bed, but she hadn’t gotten up there since the amp. That day, she hopped up for the first time and laid down next to me. She knew I needed her, and she came to take care of me. She was truly one of the great loves of my life.
Ok, I’m really getting to the confession part now. I wouldn’t trade a healthy Clyde to get Holly back. Sometimes, though, I have the thought that if this had to happen, if they both had to get sick and have crappy odds so that it’s likely that neither of them had a huge amount of time left, it might be easier if things had happened in the reverse order. Holly would somehow know how to help me work through the grief. Clyde is a comfort because I love him and I’m happy that he is here…but it’s not quite the same…he doesn’t intuitively know when I need him. I don’t know…maybe it’s just because I am in the deepest, darkest days of grief; maybe it’s because he is older, so in the back of my mind I always thought of everyone going in age order, so it’s just that my expectations are thrown off; maybe I would feel this way either way because I just so desperately want the one who isn’t here to come back. I feel so evil that I might not even post this. I LOVE Clyde. I DON’T love him any less than Holly. It’s just different. I know we talk about heart dogs or soul dogs or forever dogs…but somehow I feel like I’m making a comparison or a choice here, or that I’m betraying him in some way while he is still fighting. If you now think I’m the devil, that’s ok…I understand.
On a slightly different note…those of you who have had to deal with multiple diseases close together or who have lost multiple dogs in a short period of time – any advice? How on earth did you get through it?
Don’t feel like you’re the “devil”, you just had more of a heart & soul connection to Holly. We all have our own special dogs whom we love in a different way than our other furry family members. You are also still grieving for Holly and unfortunately have to deal with cancer again with Clyde. I can’t imagine the stress on you right now. Try and take some moments to just enjoy a few simple wonderful things this week. And don’t forget to breathe. You will make it through this for Clyde and your family.
seems you are doing the best you can, with what you have to deal with. having lost both of our girls within a year, i felt bad that gayle was the focus of my attention when jane passed. gayle (like holly) was a heart dog. it doesn’t mean jane wasn’t the most wonderful girl, or that we don’t love sam or fel mel, it’s just different.
there is no permanence. just remember, as labsrus says, to breathe. enjoy each and every moment, and capture each with all of your senses. glad clyde is doing well with his treatments – gayle had no side effects from the vaccine, hope clyde keeps feeling well and staying happy, he’s such a handsome boy.
charon & spirit gayle
You are not the devil. You are being honest about your emotions. The love we feel for each dog (and human) is different and that’s a good thing, that’s what makes each relationship special and unique. Your grief on saying goodbye to Holly is still very raw and now you have Clyde’s cancer to deal with. I can’t imagine how many different thoughts and emotions must be running through you.
Please come back and write more when you feel the need. It can be very cathartic.
Karen and Spirit Magnum