Monday, July 16, 2012

My Day Is Their Night

So the reports continue to come in from the other side of the world. I guess it's time for an update from the West...

Originally I was going to title this blog, "Never a Patient, Always a Dog," since so much of my focus right now is on Cameron. When we decided not to treat Cameron for lymphoma, the decision was based on painstaking discussions about what was best for him. As a ten-year-old Golden Retriever, we knew upon his diagnosis that he is already edging the beginning of normal life span and that cancers are common. Not that we like either of those statistics. In any case, after watching Duke's decline from hemangiosarcoma (yet another common cancer in Goldens) ten years ago, despite surgery, blood transfusions and chemotherapy, we have been determined to keep Cameron in our care at all the comfort of his home, providing the dignity that our sweet puppy deserves.

That said, the torrent of emotions that have surrounded this entire situation have been extreme. From the second that Steve and the kids got into the car, it has been very difficult, given that I have never been separated from them like this before.

Yet within all of the distress, I have been able to count so many blessings. First, I have had wonderful days with my mom. She was kind enough to come down immediately and so we have spent time having short outings and getting involved in projects around the house that have been long overdue.

Second, I have been able to spend some summer time with the flora and fauna that are in the neighborhood. There are flowers that I have literally not seen since around 2008.

Finally, there is the sweetness that is Cameron. Despite his prognosis of four to six weeks, he has exceeded that both in time and manner. The daily surprises that he provides for me have made this separation one that I have difficulty regretting. While I know the seriousness of his illness, I delight in the little things he does each day. From stealing my watermelon off the table to finding and bringing me his ball from the middle of the backyard (not a big deal for a dog that can see, I know, but the organs that this disease has had the most severe effect on for Cameron are his eyes...he is virtually blind), to staying close to me, no matter where I am in the house or outside, there have been so many opportunities to recognize how much the little things can matter.

In all, there is no doubt that this situation is, well, I can't even think of a word to describe it...but the comfort that I have felt inside at each step helps me to know that our decisions have been the right ones. While Steve and I are planners, we have been forced to take things day by day by day. This has undoubtedly helped all of us understand the true meaning of patience...and the true value of long distance phone cards.



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