"In order to write about life, first you must live it." ~ Ernest Hemingway

Category: dogs (Page 1 of 2)

When Grief Surprises You

Maisy waiting in the car with Mom while Dad was getting his Covid shot.
She absolutely loved car rides!

I woke up today with the intent of not letting another day go by without getting our tax information ready for our accountant. I know, you’re probably saying, “But it’s August”!

We file extensions every year because my husband’s business tax information doesn’t come to us until right around this time. Meanwhile, I gather all our forms and work on my medical deductions.

Calculating the medical deductions is getting easier for me every year, but it takes time. It’s best for me to do it all in one sitting as I have to go through multiple sources to document mileage, tolls, parking, deductibles, etc. I wanted to get it out of the way today because I have some extra free time and because September will be very busy for me. I didn’t want the stress of getting it done hanging over my head.

I sat myself down in my office this morning and got to work. I have a system put in place that works for me. One aspect of that system is going through my credit card statement, line by line, for the past year. I do this to look for medical expenses that I paid for out of pocket.

As I was scrolling through my credit card report, I began to get anxious. I wasn’t anxious at all this morning so I noticed it and just kept going. As I continued scrolling, the anxiety got worse and I realized I was on the verge of panic. I have a history of anxiety that recently has been under control, so this feeling was surprising to me.

Since I am armed with an arsenal of coping skills, I knew I needed to stop what I was doing and deal with the anxiety because it was just going to get worse. I put my pen down and did some diaphragmatic breathing.

It didn’t work.

That was surprising. So I moved on to other breathing techniques, including box breathing and 4-7-8 breathing. I did a grounding technique. I got a little relief, but my heart was still racing like crazy and I thought I was going to throw up. For a split second, I wondered if it was something medical, since these symptoms are also indicative of heart attacks in women. But, I know my body. I know my anxiety.

I stopped everything and went through my mind as to everything I had done since I got up this morning to try and figure out what was causing the anxiety. I wasn’t anxious about doing the taxes, but I realized that the page I was on in my credit report was line after line of veterinary charges…

Countryside Animal Hospital
Tufts Veterinary Hospital
Sturbridge Specialty Animal Hospital

And, a host of other expenses for medical and behavioral treatment.

I started to cry; not the tears rolling down your cheeks type of crying, but the chest heaving, sobbing kind.

It was Maisy.

I was still grieving Maisy.

I’ll be honest, this surprised me. Our dog, Maisy, passed away about fourteen months ago and I thought I was on the other side of that grief, as much as one can be anyways. But I knew, with absolute certainty, this was the cause of my anxiety.

Maisy was the third dog we had lost in the span of five years, one right after the other. Dogs are not just pets to my husband and I, they are family and each loss compounded the previous one. I always said I would write their stories for this blog, but I never found myself able to do so.

Even now, I don’t want to get into the specific details of all we went through with Maisy because it was difficult, heart wrenching, and the stress of her illnesses was one of the many causes of me going through a tough mental health crisis. I have worked through losing Maisy, and the loss of Molly and Foxy, in therapy, but while helpful, therapy is not a cure for grief.

There is no cure.

And, there is no way around the grief. You have to walk through it and hope that as you do, the good memories will slowly take over those difficult memories of their illness and subsequent death.

The grief of a beloved pet is a unique one. For me, it has been just as hard as the losses I have experienced with my loved ones. It’s the loss of a companion, a friend, and your source of comfort.

It’s the loss of unconditional love.

Whether it’s the loss of a pet, beloved family member, friend, job, health, etc., grief has no rules that it plays by. It is an experience that we must journey through and weave into the fabric of our daily lives.

One of the hardest parts of grief for me is how it can catch me off guard at the most unexpected times. The other day, I was scrolling through my Facebook memories and there were photos of Molly in her healthier years and it truly brought me joy. Another day, I came upon a video on social media of a purebred husky that was playing just like Foxy used it and the resemblance was uncanny. It made me sad as I yearned for all the experiences we wouldn’t have with her. Last night, my husband and I were watching the end of the Westminster Dog Show and enjoyed watching the final selection, as well as cheering for the winner.

But this morning I was doing taxes, and BAM, there was all my grief over losing Maisy, pouring out like it had happened that day in June 2020. So, I let it pour out. My first instinct was to try and ignore it while pushing on with doing my taxes, but I have come to learn that I need to allow what I’m feeling to be what it is, in that particular moment.

I put my head down on my desk and cried for as long as I needed to. I immediately felt better afterwards. My heart rate returned to normal. My stomach settled down. I had very little left to do to finish the taxes, so I finished them. But then, I felt like I needed to do more with my grief experience. I needed to write. I often ignore this need in favor of getting some other task done. Also, when I do write lately, I have been focusing on journaling just for myself.

This one though, I’m putting out into the world. Because I know you, the people who adore their beloved pets, and the grief we experience when their too short lives end, sometimes after years and years of love and devotion and sometimes just when we start to fall deeply in love with them.

Our pets are such an important part of our story.
Love them.
Grieve them.
Honor them.

The Jumbled Mess That We Call Life

I signed a DNR  (do not resuscitate) order for my dog, Molly, yesterday…

Life has gotten so messy and complicated so quick, it’s a bit staggering. One minute we’re having the time of our lives in Ireland and Northern Ireland and the next, the shit is hitting the fan. It’s almost like the world is playing a cruel joke on us by saying, ‘Here, go have the time of your lives, but be prepared because I am going to chew you up and spit you out when you get home!”

The reality is though, the world (or God) isn’t playing a cruel joke on us, that’s just life: highs, lows, and everything in between, all mixed up into this jumbled mess that one minute has you laughing and the next, has you crying.

As previously mentioned, shortly after we returned home, we got some disturbing news about a member of our family. And then we got hit with some unexpected financial expenses. Can someone please tell me why dental work and car tires cost SO much?? But, my husband and I still had our heads above water.

For me, my head started rapidly dropping below water when I went to my orthopedic appointment yesterday morning and I was told there are no other options to treat a severe problem (an osteochondral defect…if you have experience with this, e-mail me!) with my left ankle, except for surgery…a surgery that has a recovery period of up to six months-three months before I can even work or do anything resembling normal day-to-day physical activity.

I signed a DNR order for my dog, Molly, yesterday…

Surgery is a nightmare for me. I had my gallbladder out last year and I cannot believe I even have to consider the thought of going through that again. To start with, I will have to come off the low-dose naltrexone I take for my Sjögren’s symptoms because it cannot be mixed with narcotics. And we all know I am definitely going to need narcotics, at least short term. Secondly, there is my previous history of blood clots. I am guessing that a pending surgery will require discussion with my hematologist, especially since I will be in a cast post-op and my blood clot risk will be high. And that means blood thinners, frequent blood work, and a lot of worry for me.

So I am doing what every patient who is trying to avoid surgery is doing: postponing scheduling the surgery until I can get a second opinion. Hopefully that will come soon since walking is quite difficult at the moment.

I signed a DNR order for my dog, Molly, yesterday…

This morning’s doctor appointment had me subsequently going to the hospital for multiple x-rays of my back. Right after we arrived in Ireland, I started getting episodes of numbness on one side of my upper back. That was in addition to the pain I’ve been getting in my tailbone and sacrum for months now. Pain that the doctor keeps telling me will eventually go away. We went back and forth about cortisone shots this morning. She wants me to get more shots, this time under fluoroscopy, so we can get deeper into the small areas around my tailbone. I want an MRI to see if we can find out if something scary is going on in there. She says no. But, she does agree to x-ray the part of my back having numbness and sends me off to physical therapy to try and straighten my crooked sacrum out.

I don’t have the energy right now for physical therapy.
But, I’ll go because I think it might help.

So many decisions to make.
So many complicated conversations to have.

Does anybody appreciate how hard it is to stay focused in these long medical conversations when one is feeling overwhelmed? I know some of you certainly can.

But see, I can typically handle all this medical drama. And I can handle it pretty well, with a lot of grace. I am warrioresque like that.

I’m out of grace this week.

Why?

Because I had to sign a DNR order for my dog, Molly, yesterday…

Two nights ago I was sitting on the couch with my husband watching TV. Molly came over, put her head on the couch, and looked at me in a way I haven’t seen before. A look that said, “something is wrong with me.”

She’s fifteen years old. I was told about five years ago that she has a leaky heart valve, tricuspid valve I think it is. My husband and I both knew that she hasn’t been feeling so hot recently. She gets more fatigued on her walks and the heat/humidity we have had lately here in New England has been tough on her. She was panting more than usual. But overall, she looked content and I had made a promise to her, and myself, that I would not go to extraordinary measures to keep her alive at this point.

But what exactly does “extraordinary” even mean??

Yesterday morning I woke up and noticed my husband and Molly weren’t in the bedroom. I got up and my husband, Chuck, came upstairs with Molly. He had taken her down to our spare bedroom during the night to sleep because she was breathing too heavily and he was up most of the night with her. However it was one of those things where it came and went.

Because I had that doctor’s appointment about my ankle I could not miss and he had to go to work, he took her to work with him. She initially looked better, but then every time he took her outside, she would be short of breath and excessively panting again.

I met him at his work after my appointment and called the vet. She was in surgery all day and I was told to bring her in the next morning or if I thought she couldn’t wait, to take her to the E.R.

And that was where I spent the rest of my day.

It was hard, really hard.

They took her right in and checked her out. I got to fill out forms while I waited. I took my forms, sat down, and saw the form where I have to decide if needed, if I wanted her to have CPR. But at least they respectfully put the price of the CPR in parentheses next to the word “resuscitate.” There are different prices depending on how much life support you want them to perform.

You have to be kidding me.

And then the tears came. I knew we were going to face this eventually, but no matter how much I have tried to mentally and emotionally prepare myself, my heart started to slowly shatter into little pieces. A kind looking woman handed me tissues. Her gentle act of kindness was enough to help me pull myself together long enough to check the box for DNR.

Breath, Chris, breathe.

You promised you wouldn’t let her suffer or keep her alive just for your own sake.

Have I mentioned Molly has been my constant companion for twelve years and one of the two loves of my life?

About an hour later I got an update. The doctor thought her breathing was stable. She didn’t see the breathing distress that my husband and I had witnessed. I told her it comes and goes. She tells me her oxygen levels and vital signs are good. Can she have my permission to start an IV, just in case? I give it to her. She also asks for permission to do a chest x-ray and some blood work. I give her that as well.

How much is too much?

When do we decide enough is enough?

I sit there and decide we need to know what is going on and what we are facing. Maybe this is simply a case of pneumonia that can be adequately treated with antibiotics. Yes, let’s do the chest x-ray and labs…see what happens. Maybe even a cardiologist to further figure out what exactly is wrong so we can make her as comfortable as possible with medications. But it’s OK I tell myself, it won’t come to that. The doctor said her physical exam was unremarkable.

It comes to that.

Three hours later, I am brought back in. I am shown the x-rays. Her heart is enlarged, very enlarged. Possible congestive heart failure is mentioned. There are shady areas on her lungs, not tumors, but possibly pulmonary hypertension. I’m a nurse. I know what terms are bad and which ones still contain a shred of hope. To add insult to injury, the doctor took a quick peek at her heart valves. They don’t look none too good either, but I am told that they only way to know for sure is to see a cardiologist and have an echocardiogram done.

How much is too much?

This doctor is amazing. She explains everything in a way that I think should be a model for every doctor and vet in this country. She is not overwhelmed with my questions. She is patient. And she is kind. She asks me about starting Molly on two different medications for her heart and I agree. That was pretty much the point of me bringing her in, to make her comfortable.

I run through my checklist in my head. I developed this checklist sometime last year when I saw how much Molly was slowing down. It’s a guide of sorts to help me (us) determine when we are at the endpoint…

* Is she in pain or distress? No to the pain and the heart meds should help with the breathing distress.
* Is she eating? Yes, very well.
* Can she walk well? Yes.
* Does she enjoy something in her life that she’s always done? Yes, playing with her babies, going for car rides and to the park, spending time with us, cuddling.
* Can we afford her vet bills? Yes, despite the fact they are a killer and we will have to re-prioritize some things.

So, a plan is developed and we are homeward bound, both of us much more fragile than when we arrived. As I am driving home I think about one of the owners and his dog who were in the waiting room with me. I am pretty good at reading people and the read on this man was that this dog was everything, and everyone, to him. You could see it in the way he handled him. There are infants that I haven’t seen handled so gently and talked to so lovingly. If I couldn’t see and was in another environment, I would have thought it was a baby he was talking to.

I overheard the man talking to another woman. I couldn’t believe the amount of serious diagnoses the poor dog had. He sees NINE different specialists. Then I looked over at the dog and I actually had to watch for his breathing because otherwise you couldn’t tell he was alive. He was so listless and it appeared to me, he was barely existing.

Certainly not my place to judge, but it made me realize that was not the condition I wanted Molly to live in. She sees a cardiologist Friday and I am hoping she does the echocardiogram the same day so we can get a handle on knowing what is going on and so we can have conversation and make some decisions what how far we want to take her and at what point we will say enough is enough.

That is life, one big jumbled mess. You never know what the next day, or even hour, is going to bring you. It may bring you to the most beautiful mountains and valleys of Ireland. It may bring you to the heart wrenching decision of checking off that DNR box. Sometimes, you just have to hang on tight and pray your way through the day. Or, stay present in the moment you are in and remember to do the next right thing.

Life can hit us in a way that requires us to weave through it one important decision at a time….one moment at a time.

As I finish this up, I realize that after  a ten hour day, I am done for today. There is nothing else so urgent that it cannot be looked at tomorrow. So I am doing my next right thing for myself and curling up on the makeshift dog bed in the living room with Molly. And, I am going to hang on tight.

When They Grow Old…

As many of you know, I have this amazing dog named Molly. She is a 13 year old (14 in two months!) basset hound/black lab mix who I adopted from a local shelter with my ex-husband back in 2003. She and I have been through it all together: serious illness, a divorce, a job loss, loss of another pet for me and serious illness, severe separation anxiety, a divorce, and the loss of a dog brother for her. Through it all, we have been constant companions.

Molly is different now than she used to be and the change happened sometime around the time I got divorced and moved into my own place with her. She used to be the hyper one, not especially affectionate, and always wanted her own way. She still wanting her own way, but the move changed her. At first, it was for the worse. The separation anxiety she experienced was bad enough that she almost hurt/killed herself trying to go through a window when she was home alone, I was renting at the time and my landlords were not appreciate of her constant howling and barking every single time I left the house. It was a hard time for me as well, because I was disabled and even getting to doctor’s appointments was a struggle, because I didn’t know what I would come home to.

It took a long time, but we worked it out. A year of behavior modification and psychiatric medications, as well as visits to a dog shrink at Tufts University, got us through the bad parts. Not to mention several kind and compassionate friends and family who would watch her for me during the rockiest of times.

I will be honest. I almost gave up on her during this period of time. My own physical needs were so extensive at the time that I didn’t know how I was going to mange the severe separation anxiety because I obviously had to leave the house. I remember one afternoon, I came home to find her panting and in so much distress. The apartment was torn apart. I sat on the floor with her and cried. Then I google searched basset hound rescues and found the one I was going to call.

I never made the call.

And from that point on, that is when the change happened. She was completely and utterly devoted to me. It’s almost like she knew…

A year later, Molly, who was about 8 years old, started to have multiple medical problems. The vet bills mounted up and the care she needed increased. The most notable incident was the day I came home from a friend’s funeral to find that she couldn’t get up and down the stairs and cried every time she tried to move. I still vividly remember the pain in my heart upon hearing her cry like that. It sounded like she was being tortured and I had never seen her react to pain at all, never mind as if someone was beating her.

Several days of hell ensued. Multiple vet/E.R. appointments got us nowhere. Then the day after Christmas, I realized she was almost completely paralyzed. I was able to get a hold of a supervisor in the E.R.who said she read what happened when Molly was brought in and I was to put her in a car immediately and rush her to the MSPCA Angell  Boston Animal Hospital, two hours away. Because of my own limitations at the time, I had to call a friend to get her in my car for me. We drove to Boston, during a major winter storm. I honestly thought we might not make it there in one piece. I also knew that I had to try and get her there.

She received the best possible medical care there. After a lot of tests, I was told that she had a ruptured lumbar disk in her back and that was why she was paralyzed and couldn’t go to the bathroom correctly. I was told that a $5000 surgery was needed and it was thought that the surgery would help her walk again and get rid of her pain, but there were no guarantees. Even if the surgery accomplished all this, she would most likely be incontinent of urine and stool the rest of her life. I could do the surgery, or have her put to sleep. The decision was mine.

I don’t know if words can adequately express the agony in making that decision. The only financial resources I had at the time was some money from the sale of my house during my first marriage. But, I was also on disability and that was the only money I had in the world to fall back on. Taking $5000 out of it could have serious consequences for me in the future. I also wanted to do what was best for Molly. I didn’t want to prolong her life if it meant a life of  pain and suffering. Would I even be able to care for her long-term? The aftercare from the surgery alone would be incredibly difficult.

I remember my boyfriend at the time (my now husband) just holding me and letting me cry. I prayed a lot. I decided to go ahead with the surgery.

Molly came home several days later. She was never incontinent after the surgery and made a full recovery. The doctors were astounded. I know we were lucky. We trudged through the following few weeks of her recovery together.

The years since that day I made that difficult decision have been a blessing. I got married. Molly took really well to my new husband and once we moved into his home, she rarely ever had separation anxiety issues. She remained my constant companion. She continued to be by my side during several medical crises. She kept me company during those long days and weeks when I couldn’t get out of bed and my husband was at work all day. She was my emotional healer.

It has been an interesting experience watching her age, and a precious one at that. I’ve never been responsible for a senior dog before and I will say, I treat it as a privilege. I watch her get grayer with each passing week. I see how drastically she has slowed down in the past year or two. No more one hour walks romping through the park. No more play dates at the dog park because it is just too much for her. We have to be vigilant about keeping on top of her pain medications and some other health issues, especially as the arthritis continues to progress from her back surgery all those years ago. I have made a commitment to her that when she is ready to go, I will not prolong her life.

I will not let her suffer.

Mother’s Day passed by recently and I was so appreciate of the dog mom friends I have on Facebook who were so happy to claim themselves as dog moms with all the different memes. I never had children of my own and Molly has helped fill the maternal need that I have. I have taken some crap about that and heard all the jokes, but really, it is serious business. She instinctively knows when I am suffering, either physically or emotionally. She acts in ways that make my husband and I laugh so hard, we can make a whole evening of it. She gives and gives and gives to us every day, expecting nothing in return. Sometimes society, and the people in it, judge how we love. They say there is no love like the love between a mother and a child. Or you have not truly loved unconditionally unless you have a partner or a spouse,

No, love is love. We each get to define it for what it is and for how we feel it.

I had an opportunity this week to talk to someone about Molly. A person who doesn’t know her. I explained to her that it is a love like I have never known. It’s not better or worse than the love I have for my husband or say, my parents, but it is very different. It is the fierce, protective love that is demonstrated by putting her needs before my own and trust me, it has happened many times. It is a quiet, unconditional love that has no rules; no boundaries, no expectations.

It is a love of true acceptance.

Up until recently, I was sometimes afraid to love Molly over the past two years. I knew she was getting towards the end of her days and I thought the pain of the loss would be more than I could bear. A few things happened to change that. I started leaving situations out of my control in God’s hands. I realized that I could make more out of the time we do have left. I would also see profiles on dog rescue sites of elderly dogs abandoned by their owners, because they could no longer care for them. Dogs who have multiple health issues. Elderly dogs who get treated in many ways similar to elderly people in this country-like they are disposable.

I made the very difficult decision this week to have Molly put under anesthesia to get her teeth cleaned. It was a difficult decision because of her age, a heart murmur and a new found problem with one of her liver tests.There was some concern though that two of her teeth were very bad and maybe causing her pain, Some of those in my life disagreed with my decision, but I was OK with that. I made my decision based on my promise to her: that I would not let her suffer, no matter what. If it was God’s will to take her during the procedure, then she would go peacefully, with no more pain.

The procedure ended up being twice as long and twice as difficult as anticipated. Seven teeth had to be extracted, as well as some root work that included a bone graft. A biopsy also needed to be performed. She is now recovering well and while I am grateful, I am not really surprised. She’s a fighter that one. And now, she will live whatever time she has left without pain.

And we will love her just as much as ever.

Loving Molly

I was at a dinner party with a group of friends last evening and one particular couple and I were discussing the topic of our dogs. After years and years of love and devotion, they recently had to put down their fourteen year old beloved pet this past year and in exchanging stories about pets, I found myself sharing my story about Molly. They had read anecdotes and seen pictures of her on Facebook, but didn’t know some of the details of my trials and tribulations with Molly, my thirteen year old basset hound and black lab mix.

I was scrolling through my blog today and I realized that I don’t write about Molly much here. I did write about her back in 2010 when we went through a horrible medical experience together. One which resulted in me having to make a decision about whether to put her down, or spend $5,000 on a surgery that looked promising in some aspects, but held no promises for either of us in terms of her quality of life. A story I am happy to say, had a happy ending of a full recovery for Molly.

I was thinking this morning about that difficult time I went through with Molly and realized that I understood why, despite the fact that I talk about her all the time with my family and friends, I never write about her…

Because I don’t need to.

Because a lot of the time, writing is therapeutic for me and my connection to this dog is so pure, and so untouched by the unsavory elements that normally affect personal relationships, that there is no need to process my feelings about her. There is no fighting, no misunderstandings, no hurt feelings, no family drama, no unfulfilled expectations.

Just love.

And a mean, pure love.

I never had children of my own. That’s a long story in itself for another day. I saw a posting recently on Facebook, not from anyone in my family, or close friend circle luckily, in which several comments were made in response to a woman (without any children) who said that her dogs are like her children. The responses went on and on about how a dog, or any pet, is nothing like having a child and that people need to stop comparing being a pet owner with being a parent. I have read stuff like this before in articles and such, but this particular thread really got to me.

To begin with, Molly is like a child to me. Yes, I am completely sane and as a pediatric nurse, a stepmother to adult children, and a person who has a million friends with children, I do understand it is different. I understand that while my dog fulfills many of the same desires and needs that a child fulfills for a parent, it is not quite the same thing and having Molly as a pet, no matter how much I love and care for her, will never fulfill the loss I feel from not having a child.

I also understand that this dog and I have traveled through life together for ten years together and I would guess that most people in my life could never fully comprehend what we have been through together: losing half of our former family, our home, the nights we have spent alone together on the couch…

The time where I didn’t think I could care for her anymore and had the phone number in my hand for a basset hound rescue…

The Christmas Eve I stayed up all night with her when she was in agony…

The nights she stayed up with me when I was in agony…

The blizzard I drove two hours in to get her to an emergency room when she became paralyzed…

The night I stayed up trying to make a decision about whether she would be better off being put down or having a surgery that I could not afford…

The moment I saw her walk towards me several days after that surgery…

These are just a few examples of the journey we have been on in the past ten years. She has taught me the meaning of unconditional love. Isn’t unconditional love what being a parent is about? Some of the comments in response to that post I mentioned above stated that until you become a parent, you cannot know what that kind of love is like. I disagree. I think as a person who has never had a child of her own, yes, I do not know what it is like to raise a child. But that does not mean that I do not know how to love unconditionally and without reservation. It concerns me greatly that as a society, we judge each other on how we love. Or that we condemn each other on the love that we do have for all living creatures.

I rescued Molly from a shelter in 2004. She has been rescuing me ever since. At the age of 13, I know our time together is limited and will come to an end much sooner than I would like. She takes medication to manage her thyroid, her stomach, and the resulting arthritis pain from her 2010 surgery. She moves slower at times and is not the spry young thing she once was. However she still has a good quality of life and so we continue on. And the thought of her being gone forever scares me. But for now, I will love her. I will care for her. I will take advantage of every single day that we have left together. I will let her love me. And when the time comes, no matter how difficult it will be, I will be by her side when she is ushered to the other side.

Because that is love.

For the love of Molly

“A person can learn a lot from a dog, even a loopy one like ours. Marley taught me about living each day with unbridled exuberance and joy, about seizing the moment and following your heart. He taught me to appreciate the simple things-a walk in the woods, a fresh snowfall, a nap in a shaft of winter sunlight. And as he grew old and achy, he taught me about optimism in the face of adversity. Mostly, he taught me about friendship and selflessness and, above all else, unwavering loyalty.” ~ John Grogan

December 27th 4:15pm:

I just saw one of the most heartwarming reunions ever. I am sitting in the MSPCA Angell Animal Hospital waiting room. A beautiful Newfoundland was being discharged from the hospital. I got the feeling that he has been here for a while. His family was waiting in the reception area. The double doors opened and the big Newfie (as they are nicknamed) came barreling through the doors and literally into his family’s arms. You could hear then cry with delight as he bounded toward them; there was no doubt in anyone’s mind who witnessed this reunion that they were his and he was theirs.

I am sitting in the waiting area next to them as a anxiously wait for a neurologist to exam my dog and then come talk to me. We already saw a regular doctor and I am exhausted. My dear Molly has had one hell of a time the past several days and to be honest, so have I; thought I had it all pulled together until I saw the Newfie and his family back together and now, I am a mess.

Anyone who has spent even five minutes with me knows how crazy in love I am with my basset hound mix Molly. We have been to hell and back together and I was just commenting to people recently how well she has been lately. She has had quite a year with multiple health issues including surgery for an ear hematoma, a laceration repair, and some hind leg problems. I should have known that this calm in our lives, both with her health and my own, would not last very long.

It has been a nightmarish past five days getting the run around from other incompetent vets and watching her suffer a lot of the time with piercing cries due to the agony she was in. They think she may have intervertebral disk disease based on her symptoms. I am so angry. I kept telling these other vets (including an ER one) that something wasn’t right. I didn’t know what was wrong but I knew something was. She has too high a pain tolerance to be this vocal…she must be hurting so bad. I can’t stand to see her suffer. I know to some people she is just a dog. But imagine having a connection to a living being, any living being, and having to watch their agony; but yet not be able to get them the help they need. It is heartbreaking.

December 27th 8:45am:

I am home. Molly was admitted to the hospital last night. I am devastated. She was seen by the neurologist and he said that they will do an MRI in the morning, but they are certain she has a herniated disk in her spine and it has caused nerve damage. They think she will walk again and have adequate pain control, but she has most likely lost bladder and bowel control for the rest of her life. She is about 9 ½ yrs. old. They did not present this to me as an option verbally, but I have to decide now if I should put her through a painful surgery with a long recovery and possible complications. The option is that I don’t and she is put down because I cannot take her home like this and let her suffer. Am I physically and emotionally able to care for a dog who needs to have her bladder expressed 4 times a day, not to mention managing the fecal incontinence? They say you cannot put a price on a pet but the reality is, I am looking at about $6000 this week in bills and I am on disability. That does not include what it will cost me to manage the incontinence issues as well as the vet bills to deal with bladder complications, medications, etc. They found she has a heart murmur as well which is caused by something called mitral valve prolapse. It has not caused any heart damage and does not require any medications right now but the reality is, I am sure it will be an issue at some point. I can’t even believe I am thinking of putting her down. What is the best thing for Molly? How do I make a decision like this? I feel like I am playing God. I feel like I am being selfish.

December 30th 1:50pm:

Molly is laying quietly in front of me on the rug. She had the surgery. There was more disk material to remove from her spinal cord than they anticipated. She must have been suffering so much. To the amazement of the vet staff and myself, she is not only walking already, but is going to the bathroom on her own as well. To me, it feels like a miracle. They say she is not out of the woods yet and her post surgery recovery will be long but we should know more for sure as the weeks progress. She is amazing.

There was something very powerful emotionally about going into Boston to pick up the dog you thought you might never take home again. It changes things. It made me stronger because now I know when the time does come for Molly to leave me, I will be able to make the right decision for her.

So how did I finally make the decision to do the surgery? I guess it came down to asking myself the important questions. Is she likely to have a good quality of life afterwards? What constitutes a good quality of life for her in particular? Will I be able to take care of her? If I run into a crisis with my own health issues, will I have support? Once I pay the vet bills, can I still pay my own basic bills/medical costs? Because of the positive outcome she has had so far, it is easy to sit back and say I made the right decision but really, there was no right or wrong decision. At the time, it was a no-win situation that I could not predict the outcome of. So I had talked more with the vet, researched her condition (for hours and hours!), and prayed. And in the end, I made the decision I thought was best for the love of Molly…

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