The days
become a solid sort of water which you have to swim through – a thick syrup –
when you’re about to lose someone or something you love. The world rushes past
you in a velocity you no longer connect to and life and the world feel alien
and not your own. So little seems to matter.
This is the
state we turned into last week when we heard our dog was seriously ill and when
from the non verbal communication we gathered that seriously ill could well
mean that our dog’s horizon was not far from here. Last Friday test results
came back and although no particular problem had been found, that sheer fact
showed that something irreparable is going on beneath that lovely fur,
something you can’t measure.
Patterned paper I created just to take my mind off things a bit…
Silke’s
lymphatic system is severely damaged. So lymphatic fluid does not follow its normal
path. Instead, it leaks into her belly, chest and legs. And unfortunately it is
so much fluid that her lungs are affected as well. So breathing is not that
easy for her. And to make things worse, with all that fluid in her body, her
heart has to work like crazy to get enough oxygen into her already
incapacitated lungs. And that is not good news.
Medication
can alleviate the symptoms for a while, but from the information I could gather
from the vet and from online research, even with heavy medication things will
only go downhill from here. In fact, despite the medication she’s on right now,
we see her getting worse already. One very sad fact is that we can’t take her
out for walks anymore. We did it anyway, this afternoon. And during the
(modest) walk, she seemed happy and lively, making us hopeful. But on the way
back to the car her tongue was purplish instead of reddish pink. And it’s taken
her all day to recover. Silke is now an impaired dog. And on top of that the
medication makes her lose control over her bladder. She regularly wakes up in a
pool of pee and then looks at me helplessly and ashamed.
More patterned paper to ease the mind a bit…
Tomorrow we
have a meeting planned with the vet. And I feel quite emotional about it.
Because if our dog can’t be a dog anymore, if she can’t go on long walks with
us or play with other dogs at the beach or sniff rabbit trails in the
woods…if she has to spend her remaining days in her crate only to prolong her
life, then what good is that? No cell in my body wants to lose this wonderful
dog. But every little bit of common sense resists treatment if no happy end can
follow. I don’t want to let my dog shrivel up into misery before letting her go.
She deserves better than that.