I Want to Be More Like My Dog.

Sammy has cancer and it’s a kind that’s not very receptive to treatment.  The good news is, her lungs are clear today, and they haven’t filled much since the last time they were tapped.  That’s a good start for her on her chemo treatment.  The drugs we’re giving her haven’t really been trialed on this type of cancer, so no one really knows if it will help or not.  We should know in about 6 weeks if it’s having an effect. 

We’ll take her to be x-rayed again in 3 weeks, and if her lungs have a lot more fluid in them, then we’ll keep going for another 3 weeks, and if they have fluid in them again, then we know it’s not really working.  I guess, anyway.  This whole thing is so unclear.  I suppose that’s what happens when you get cancer…things are unclear.

I want to be more like Sammy.  She’s patient and kind and loving.  People meet her and instantly love her and want to take her home.  She gets excited when we come home because she misses us, and she still gallops when it’s time to be fed, and she’ll play with her toys.  She barks when she wants off the bed, and she barks when she wants back on the bed, and she barks when she wants to come back inside.  And we come and get her and pick her up and put her on/off the bed, and bring her in from the cold.

We love her so much, and she trusts in that.  I so want to be more like her.

Instead, I’m sad all the time.  I’m lonely.  And if I’m not sad and lonely, I’m angry.  And if I’m not sad, or lonely or angry, I’m putting on a show.  I’m putting on a performance so that everyone laughs and everyone is happy, and they want to be around me.  So I can go home and I can say, "I make everyone laugh.  People were happy for a moment and isn’t that something?"  And then I spend the next three weeks debating if that is really something.  Is it?  And, if it is, is it enough?

I am tired.  I am tired of the dance.  The music has to end sometime.  Maybe it will be me that presses the power button.  All gone.

The journey is the reward

Lao-Tzu