Today it is two months since Holly’s amputation. I so badly want to be posting in the forums about our ampuversary celebrations, and about how well she is doing. If you had told me that, despite treating the cancer as aggressively as we could, she wouldn’t make it two months post-amp, I never would have believed you. We decided to do chest x-rays before her surgery even though the doctors told us that it wasn’t necessary to do them if it wouldn’t change our minds about how we would treat. Even knowing that we would likely go through with the amp either way, I wanted to do the x-rays for a couple of reasons: one, I wanted all of the information that I could get about what we were up against. Then, the other reason…we knew that if she had lung mets on x-rays at that point, it was likely that our time was pretty limited. I was scheduled to be away on a business trip for nearly a week, and I remember thinking that if we were only going to have 2 months, I didn’t want to miss an entire week of it and I would try to stay home. With the way things were going, I wasn’t worried (ok, I was constantly worried, but worried in a more optimistic, hey things are going well kind of way), and I ended up going away twice. Out of less than 8 weeks following her amp, I was only home for about 6 of them. May I have that time back now, please? I tried to really enjoy our time with her and live life to the fullest once we got the diagnosis. Knowing that your time is limited will obviously do that…but you of course still have to go on with your daily life. I truly saw us as having at least a year, which meant that missing a couple of weeks would suck, but it wouldn’t be a huge chunk of the remainder of her life. In some ways, I wish I had known that our time would be as limited as it was – I would have gone on with my daily life a little less. I would have taken every single vacation day just to take her out to enjoy the world. A few times, we left her home while we took the others to the dog park. I sometimes got upset because she clearly wanted to come, but I didn’t want her to overdo it, especially if she had already had a big day the previous day. If I had known that wouldn’t have mattered in the end, I would have let her come, or I would have stayed home and just spent time with her. Luckily, working from home allowed me to maximize the time I physically spent with her, even if I was distracted by work (although now working from home is pretty awful – I can’t even work in my office yet. I think that it would be better if I had to go somewhere else every day, somewhere that didn’t have quite so many memories. I would go work at a park or coffee shop or something, but now I want to stay home with Clyde.). I want back every. single. second.
She was such a strong girl, so full of life and love. I am still happy that we did the surgery. She recovered so well and relatively quickly – one of the few instances of good luck that we’ve had. It allowed her to be free from the pain, and to be free of our overwhelming worry that her leg would break. She was able to enjoy life again, to play and be happy. It was such a joy to watch her really go back to being her old self. I keep thinking that there absolutely MUST be a way to press the rewind button so that we can go back and do things differently post-amp. This living without her thing is too hard. It wasn’t time for her to go…she had more left to do and more left to give, and we had so much more left to give her. My heart is just in millions and millions of shattered pieces. I know it isn’t healthy to keep going through the what ifs in my head, but at this point it is just impossible to stop. So many things had to line up for us to be where we are today – it’s hard to believe that changing something wouldn’t have changed the outcome.
This afternoon, I picked Clyde up after his radiation. We didn’t have an appointment to meet with a vet, so I was waiting in the lobby for the tech to bring him out to me when our oncologist happened to walk in to get a file from the front desk. The last time I saw him was the last day I saw Holly (last Monday he was off on vacation so we met with another doc to get Clyde started). Up to that point, I had been doing really well. I hadn’t cried at all – I had just gotten a teensy bit teary when one of the front desk guys (who is one of the sweetest, most compassionate people ever) came over to tell me again how sorry he is. But as soon as I made eye contact with our doctor, I just burst into tears. He told me that he, too, is having difficulty wrapping his mind around what happened because it was all just so bizarre and not something that anyone would ever see coming. I asked him a few things that I have been wondering – mostly what ifs. He assured me that we did exactly what he would have done were he treating his own dog. That actually helped for a little bit…until a while later when I of course went back into the “what if” and “maybe I should have….” black hole.
Two months ago, I thought that I was in absolute hell. How could it get any worse? My beautiful baby girl had cancer and was having her leg removed! Then, a couple of weeks ago, I thought…ok, now it really can’t get any worse. TWO of my dogs have cancer. Both times, I was so wrong. I would LOVE to have two cancer dogs. All of the pills, the appointments, the treatments, the worry, the watching for side effects, the cost, the reading every single thing you can find, the considering every possible option that has ever helped any dog, figuring out the diet, the exhaustion, the tests, the stress – it’s all worth it. If you can get an extra five minutes of quality time, it’s all worth it.
Alex, you have been given a really cruel deal. Cancer is bad enough but I think losing someone unexpectedly when you thought you had more time together is even harder.
You will probably continue to go over events for some time yet. Don’t judge yourself. It is still very early days and it is not unhealthy to feel what you are feeling. It is normal. It is hard to see it now (and I say that acknowledging that I am far from OK yet myself) but I hope that with time you will begin to accept that you did everything you could and that Holly was lucky that she had you by her side, giving her your love.
I didn’t know how I would survive the first couple of weeks and I tortured myself constantly with the “what ifs”. I still find myself doing it but I am doing it less and finding a little more peace (but the food bowls still sit untouched over 8 weeks later and I’m ok with that. I’ll move them when I’m ready).
Thank you for sharing the photos of Holly. She looks so happy sitting on you! I can relate to letting her sit on you and putting up with the discomfort. Our perspective changes a lot with cancer.
Please take care of yourself. We are always here for you.
Sending you many healing hugs.
Karen
we all heal at our own speed, the road through the grief can be long and twisted, but you will eventually start to feel a little better. wish there was a ‘magic fix’, but then, it’s part of how we grow.
hope clyde is doing well with his radiation.
charon & spirit gayle
I feel your pain…I was just saying the other day that I was so angry that I only got a week post surgery and it was not a good week. We feel cheated when someone so special is taken from us. Your bond with Holly was amazing and so strong. I concur with Charon, I wish there was a “magic fix” or “magic wand” to take the pain away.
-Kori & Angel Lupe
I’m sorry :(. I feel your pain, I know it myself. All I can say is when I hit the hard part, of which I still do 4 months later, I try to picture how my boy would feel seeing me so broken up. He would hate it that I was so sad, he would do all kinds of funny things to make me smile. Then I do smile, remembering his antics. The love never goes away, so hold on tight to that. She lives in your love.
I’m am so sorry that you are so troubled by the events that lead up to the loss of your precious Holly. It is only human to go over and over things again. I was too young the last time we lost a dog, so I don’t know what you are feeling right now, but I can truly feel your frustration and sadness through your words. I’m sure that when God decides to take Hunter from us we will experience a lot of the same emotions. It will be extremely hard, especially on my husband, since Hunter is his heart dog.
The clinic we are using for Hunter has free pet loss grief counseling. Maybe you would benefit from talking to someone about your situation, or others who have gone recently experienced the loss of their pet… face to face. Just a thought.
Please take care of yourself and give Clyde some extra hugs from us.
The ‘what if’ hole is definitely a black one. Been there myself too. It does get better, but it takes a lot of time. I still cry a lot and feel cheated and angry a lot – but I can also get through some days ok, and talk about our girl and remember her with more smiles than tears. You’ll get there too, but it’s a long hard road. I hope the writing helps. I found looking at pictures helped. I love the pics you posted – the one of her sitting on you is so sweet. And Abby had the exact same blue flowered “e-collar”. Your Hollybeans had such a sweet face! I hope she’ll maybe send you a little sign that she’s doing ok and looking out for you!
Jackie
Alex, I think maybe Holly has sent a sign that she’s ok. Two nights ago outside the grocery store, I saw Holly’s twin. A man was standing with her outside, waiting for someone. I’m sure he thought I was demented or something because I stopped and gawked, and then when I got inside my car I kept staring. I almost got my phone out to take her photograph, but I thought that might get me arrested.
When I saw that dog, I immediately knew who it looked like. There was no doubt in my mind. Holly was new here but I thought she was beautiful and would know her coloring anywhere.
The pit of despair can be deep and hold us, but you need to take the hands of those reaching out to you to help you out of it. Holly would be the first to help you out of the pit. She would not want you unhappy or doubting. If you asked her, she would say she was loved perfectly and had no regrets. She got two months that were bonus months, so please don’t regret anything.
Shari
The what ifs will drive you crazy, they sure do drive me crazy. I am so sorry about Holly and these terrible struggles in such a short period of time. But I’d bet she would want you to try to be happy and to be strong for Clyde. Hugs to you and belly rubs to Clyde! Hoping things go well with his radiation.
Nancy, Butchey and MB Lola