If you want to make God laugh….

…Tell them your plans.

I really hate how true that phrase is. I never learn either, I will always plan everything and be amazed when it quite often completely falls apart. My plan with Ellie is no different. it’s shattered really, and I’m so angry and confused, and utterly heartbroken I can’t really process it all yet.

So to get you caught up. Sunday morning everything was normal, but Ellie didn’t want to go for a walk and when we came back in she yelped pretty bad, and then yelped again as she was laying down. I checked all over her, but she jumped right back up and ate her breakfast happily. I went ahead and gave her gabapentin and carprofen to be on the safe side, but she seemed fine after that. That evening she was bopping around outside like normal. Monday morning was a different story. when I got up, I gave her her normal belly rubs, she happily lounged on her back making sure I got both sides and got up with no issues. But when she went outside she yelped…and then didn’t stop. She couldn’t stand, she couldn’t sit, she couldn’t lay down, everything hurt. I called the vet and was free to bring her in right away but getting her into my SUV was a huge issue. She couldn’t stand up without yelping let alone walk, if I moved her at all she cried out- I felt so incredibly helpless. I ended up backing my SUV as far back as I could, so we only had to move her about 10 ft to get her in. While I was backing the SUV she had moved closer and probably with the last bit of energy she had scrambled up the ramp with me pushing/supporting and she was in. At the vet they were able to give her IV pain killers which at least took the edge off whatever was causing her pain, and sedated her heavily to do X rays. There was nothing to explain her pain. Other than lung mets (which is the most common with 80% of cases) it’s unfortunately pretty common for osteosarcoma to move into the spine and not be obvious on x ray, so that was the assumption made. Regardless of if it was that or not, it didn’t really matter, even completely loaded on painkillers she was at the very least uncomfortable. I was given the option to take her home and see how she did over the next couple days, but I could not in good conscious put her through even the car ride home let alone days of obvious pain. So Monday afternoon we said our goodbyes. My literal only solace is I’m so incredibly grateful she’s not in anymore pain. Apart from that I am Angry and Heartbroken. I went from planning this epic trip to San Diego for us to hopefully steal a few more months and make sure I gave this pup everything she deserved to saying goodbye in less than 24 hours.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. She was supposed to be the miracle, the one who beats the odds. But then we adapted when her cancer spread, there was no miracle, but it wasn’t going to spread more- the vet said it was stable.. that means it shouldn’t spread (oh the lies we tell ourselves) she would have months of pain free time and we were living it up and not wasting a moment. I know I shouldn’t have, but I would silently pray for her to see her 8th birthday (Jan 25) it didn’t seem too outlandish of a hope it would have been 10 months from when she was first diagnosed, but it wasn’t meant to be. Instead of being the miracle we have now been destined to be the cautionary tale. Even if you do everything- amputation, chemo, rehabilitation, catching it before it spreads, having healthy bloodwork, having zero past health issues- that is no guarantee that you will get any extra time. 4 months, that’s all we were given, and 1.5 months of it were spent recovering- how is that fair? Simply put, it’s not and that’s life in all the chaos of it. Through the unfairness I have to search for any scrap of good to keep from losing my mind or just falling into a great depression feeling like I utterly failed the most important being in my world.

If I had known what I know now would I have changed anything? no chemo obviously, but apart from that it was either amputation or getting put down because she was in pain then. Would I have welcomed only 4 months where part of that was spent in pain, I honestly don’t know. Probably not. Do I regret getting it done? No. It was a risk, I wasn’t lied to about anything, and the hope/chance of having more time was worth it.

It’s only been a day so this is obviously the very raw emotions of things. My brain has barely comprehended that she’s no longer here, and my body is clueless. Every time I stand up I listen for her to stand as well and follow me as she always did. My eyes search for her multiple times to make sure I haven’t left the gate open and have to grab her from wandering too far. It feels foreign to open the fridge door all the way versus only about 12 inches because one of her favorite spots to watch me cook was there, and she had no inclination to move. I heard a dog bark and it sounded just like her and I wondered who was here. I realized I hadn’t fed her this evening before I realized I didn’t have to. I went on our morning walk and my hand felt foreign not having a leash in it. It’s just so different, I’ve never been in this house without a dog- it honestly doesn’t really feel like home right now.

I have found two comforts throughout today. Going through every single photo/video I have of her and compiling a little memorial to her. Reliving so many memories, seeing her so healthy and joyful, reminding myself that though it was much too short she lived a full life. It’s been on repeat since I finished it.

The second has been Andrea Gibson. She is a poet who also has ovarian cancer. I found her long before any of this, and even though I never really “got” poetry hers resonated with me on a different level. there have been 2 poems specifically that have really touched my heart and I’m trying to absorb more and more as I try to let go of the anger and be vulnerable enough to accept the awe and the gratitude. In “I stopped waiting for Awe to find me” she says:

“I know how difficult it is for anyone to believe the light of my joy has not been dimmed by cancer. The only way I can explain it is to say, I stopped waiting for awe to find me. Now I find it.

By the end of our lives, if we’ve not said “WOW” thirty million times––we don’t get into heaven. What purpose could I possibly have that’s greater than building my goosebump collection? Last night I lifted my head to the Northern Lights and they flew six thousand miles to see me. I’m on their bucket list…

People think I’ve gone mad because I’m not mad at my life. I haven’t lost my mind. I know exactly where I left it. I’ve simply learned to think with my gratitude, pray with my pain, love with everything I could ever and never lose.”

The other one I found just today as I was searching for the above. It’s called “A Letter to My Dog, Exploring the Human Condition” It’s one of those where you laugh and then cry only to laugh again while magically having your perception adjusted without realizing it. I hope you give a listen, and then choose to listen to it again 🙂

I will eventually find Andrea level gratitude and work on my goose bump collection, but not tonight. Tonight is still for All things Ellie as my body slowly realizes she’s not on this plane anymore. Rest in Peace EllBell.