Saturday, May 22, 2010

The straw that broke this camel's back. Yes, I'm calling myself a camel. Whatever! I've been called worse.

I think, under the current circumstances, that I've been keeping things together pretty well. Did I have a minor meltdown upon learning that hubby dear is being laid off AGAIN? Yes, but it was mild, and I pulled it all together pretty quickly. Have I had my moments of despair about my upcoming surgery and being on crutches for who knows how many months afterwards while trying to take care of two little boys? Of course. But, if you don't count that one really scary dream I had about cadaver ligaments coming to life and bursting through my cast, as well as just a couple of minor little sobbing spells in the shower, I think I've handled that situation with a fair amount of stoicism and optimism as well.

But, there is only so much one woman can take.

And, Thursday's little adventure was the one that did me in...

It has to do with my darling old dog, Cosmo. I adopted him from the pound when he was just a little guy -- fat and fluffy and full of energy. Now, he's 12. He's just a little old man, who  wants to take naps and fart and lick what's left of his boy parts. He's got weak hips, he can't see or hear very well, and he snores louder than my husband (which is a significant achievement, let me tell you). But, he's also pretty cheerful. Still wags his tail and engages with the family and looks forward to his meals...An optimist, just like me. Still, I know that the day is coming in the fairly near future, when it will be time to say goodbye. What I learned, yesterday, is that I am no way near being emotionally prepared for that to happen!

When I got home from work and picking up the kids and running errands (the usual craziness) around 4:30, I found my old dog, Cosmo, staggering around the room, falling over, his head tilted crazily to one side, and his eyes literally rolling around in his head. Did I handle this with any sort of grace under pressure? Hell no! I started bawling my eyes out. I called the vet, bawling, put Cosmo and the kids in the van, bawling (me, not the kids), sat in the waiting room, bawling, with Cos wrapped up in a blanket on my lap, his eyes still rolling crazily around in his head, his whole body was horrible. The one bright spot was that my little boys were AWESOME! I told them I was crying because Cosmo is sick, and that I'm very worried about him. They took it in stride. They played with the toys in the vet's office, and they'd come over from time-to-time to pat Cos on the head or give me a hug. They were fantastic! Great little guys to have with you in a crisis, I guess.

Finally, we get called back into an examination room. In walks the doc., and he's the very same vet that saw Cosmo on the day I brought him in for his first puppy check-up. It was even the same exam room. This set me off into more bawling. And, you know how some women cry and still somehow manage to do it prettily? Their eyes turn into liquid pools, they get those big, fat tears that just roll perfectly down their faces, and they somehow just look fragile and kind've beautiful at the same time, like a lost puppy? Yeah. That's not me. This was full-on, ugly crying. There was heaving, there was snot, there was blotchiness...It was, in no way, pretty.

So, the doc. gets down on the floor with us and takes a look, as I sob and sniff. Then, he looks up at me and says, "This is actually quite common in dogs over 12 years old. It's called ideopathic vestibulitis." (Or something like that) To which I reply, "Does this mean (sob) that today (sniff, sob, snort) is his last day?" When he told me it wasn't going to be his last day, and that he would actually get over it in 10 days just by taking Benadryl twice a day, I cried even harder from the relief. The vet actually took my boys out of the room for a few minutes, got them each one of those big, fat, plastic medicine syringes,and then showed them how to turn them into water squirters. Need I say that this is a man who also has kids? He knew what needed to be done. Thank goodness for other parents, eh? Where would we be without them?

Anyway, in spite of the diagnosis, I was just completely undone by the experience. Truly. Un. Done. It was just too much. I pretty much cried off and on that entire night. I'm still exhausted from it, and that was 3 days ago. Clearly, I am not emotionally ready for the loss of my little old dog. And, clearly, my stress levels are a bit high right now.

So, listen up, Universe...Enough already!

I'm going to bed now...


1 comment:

  1. I know this moments. When you've just effing had it. So sorry to hear about your husband's job. That blows. And your surgery? Also blows but babe, you'll get threw it. With drugs and possibly alcohol (no operating heavy machinery, dear) but you will get through it. Thinking of you.