cancer – The Hermits' Rest

Old, Parents, Worries

What were your parents doing at your age?

I’m still feeling old and irrelevant, just like my cousin J. And I’m incredibly sad to be watching my sweet Great Dane, Goldie, swiftly declining. Cancer is just awful. It makes me hesitant to have another giant dog.

And cancer is why I can’t tell you what my mother was doing at my age (pushing 67). She’d been dead four years, thanks to her nicotine addiction. I wish she’d had a less addictive personality. I know she loved us.

I was born, born in the 50s. I already look concerned.

When Dad was 66 I think he was at his happiest. If my memory is correct, he’d met my stepmother and was having fun hanging with friends, traveling, and working in his beloved flower gardens. What a contrast. Dad was great taking care of Mom. He deserved a time to have fun. (He married Flo, a woman just like quirky Mom only without addictions, so he had challenges later!) I loved my dad so much. What a great, flawed, very human human being he was.

Things sure are different for me. My parents grew more prosperous and felt safer as they aged. Boomers like me had no idea what they’d be in for as they grew older. This is not the future I’d envisioned.

Thanks to everyone who’s been reaching out. Knowing I have kind people in my life is a source of comfort.

Goldie’s Still Trying

Sigh. Goldie has new lumps around her right shoulder. Dr Amy removed one that wasn’t attached to anything, and got a sample of the others. We will get those results in a week or two.

We knew this was coming, but had hoped for more time with her. As it is, she’s acting cheerful and dealing with her many staples just fine. We just can’t let this wound get infected. At least it’s smaller.

Not thrilled to be demonstrating her latest wound.

She can’t catch a break. Her hair had just finished growing in from the last surgery. As long as she is living a good life, we’ll keep pampering her. Such a good girl; she deserves all the love we can give her.

Meanwhile Harvey got blood tests to check in his liver and it was determined all his lumps are lipomas, which aren’t too bothersome. He also had the classic swollen anal gland, everyone’s favorite dog malady. He was pretty sad when his anesthesia was wearing off, weaving and wobbling around, but soon was his regular self, with shorter toenails (yay).

The wound is smaller than it looks. It has salve on it.

I love the dogs so much, but I warn you to consider veterinary costs if you get giant dogs or have a lot of them. The team that works on the dogs are kind and competent, but not inexpensive. Having the mobile service IS really convenient, though.

At least the horses are currently ok, though huddling up in the cold appears to have led to some bickering. Apache is a real hoot vacuuming up his medication in the senior feed. Meds time is now his favorite time of day.

I don’t want my healthy food and supplements.

Next up? Figuring out if we still get to go camping or not. I’d feel a lot better if someone was home this weekend. of course, bad weather may make the decision for us! I hope it’s not too cold for the farrier tomorrow, too.

Overwhelmed

That’s today’s word: overwhelmed. That’s what happens when too many intense events happen at once. I think I was holding myself together to get through Goldie’s surgery, then it all got to me today. I felt all oogey in my brain.

Naturally, or coincidentally perhaps, more little things kept piling up. I couldn’t sit outside to work, because my laptop screen has stopped working. And changes, questions, and challenges started piling up so I was stuck at my desk, where my chair has decided it won’t stay up. Just little things. But, ugh.

Maybe I need new ones. Photo from Pexels.

I did get a few minutes to sit with Lee as we supervised Goldie laying in the sun. We managed to keep her from running anywhere. And later, when I finished all my tasks, including training in my new department, I got to just sit with Goldie and keep her calm and happy.

Meanwhile, Harvey is having more trouble. His eye now looks like it’s messed up. I hope he hasn’t abraded his eye like Scrunchy the pug used to. And his balance is work. Two sickly dogs can be overwhelming, but I just loved on them a lot.

Plus I was concerned about Apache, who has stopped eating his dinner. He just stares at the wall. And I was worried about his feet, because he hasn’t been running like the others when they come up for food. (Mabel, on the other hand, now runs like the racehorse she may have once been.)

So. It wasn’t Tarrin’s best day either. She also has a dog who had cancerous growths removed, then surgery on her intestines that had gotten messed up by medication. Eek. We are monitoring Goldie for that.

Ekho is recovering well and enjoying her favorite rolling in the grass activity. She’s hiding her bandaged foot.

Then this morning, Tarrin found her beautiful stallion had died overnight with no signs of struggle. That was overwhelming. Just awful. Sudden losses are so unexpected; you sorta go into shock.

So, since we both felt like crap, I skipped my lessons. Horses can tell when you aren’t at your best. However, Lee was nice enough to bring Apache over to Tarrin’s so we could talk about his food, medication, and feet. Secretly I also went so I could support her like she’s been supporting me with all the dog stuff.

It was very helpful to have a friend to talk to about how I was feeling, and it also felt good to be an empathetic listener. No doubt we will both be fine later, but today we were both sad.

Apache was probably wondering why he wasn’t being saddled and ridden, but he didn’t complain about just getting a trim. His soles are shedding, so Tarrin trimmed them and put his boots on.

Wearing his boots and making his sleepy face.

She helped me come up with a feeding plan and decided we need to switch his medication. He has too many side effects still, after a year. He should not be ignoring food and standing like a zombie. The powder medicine should be more palatable and have fewer side effects. Plus it costs less!

His plan is to convince me to take him out for grass that needs trimming every day.

Now I just have to try to return the 6-month supply of Prascend that just arrived. I sure hope I can. It’s expensive. But I’m glad to have a plan for Apache! He’s doing so well in training that I want him as happy as possible.

Long story, sorry about that. But I feel better thanks to good friends (online and in person) who care. I even got surprise presents from Kathleen, who did a stealth visit, meal, and present drop-off all while we were off with Apache.

Better times are coming! Or, I’ll be back to coping well with challenging times!

Gray Skies Are Gonna Clear Up

We are putting on our happy faces because even though the weather was weird today, we got encouraging news about Goldie’s prognosis.

The important news is that the veterinary team took X-rays of Goldie’s chest this morning and found no evidence of metastatic growths. That means she has a better chance of hanging on for a good while as a tripod. She then had the amputation surgery and came through it well.

Spooky sky with light of hope shining through. Photo by Lee.

Now we are waiting to see how she does overnight. I’m glad this facility has an overnight doctor to keep an eye on the animals there. She is well drugged, so she can rest pain free. What a relief. If things go well, we will get her tomorrow afternoon.

While anxiously awaiting news of Goldie (we thought she was going in early but that wasn’t the case), I hung out with the birds. There were over 40 species today! You can tell it’s migration time. The clouds never made any rain, either.

Vultures waiting for their wings to dry, and that same cloud.

After lunch with the ladies and Casey (the dude of our crowd) I came home to more weird weather. The wind picked up drastically, to where I couldn’t work outside anymore. Just as I was finishing my last meeting, Lee came in and said some of the horses were out.

Look, Mom. We are over here by the welding thingie.

I went over and shut the main gate, then went to figure out what was going on. Two horses were still in their pen area. Dusty was just standing by the big gate, assuming I’d let him out, which I did. Drew, in the other hand, was running anxiously back and forth, not settling down enough to figure out where the exit was.

I found that the back gate, which already had some issues, had blown open in the wind and was sitting at a most awkward angle. Drew finally found it and flew past me, jumping and leaping. What a dramatic boy.

We decided to let them do some edging and mowing for a while, but the gate did get fixed. Of course, as we were discussing it, Drew had to come help. I guess we humans are more interesting than new grass to the curious one. Anyway, other than causing the dogs to bark, the horses are fine. They’ll go back inside soon as they get thirsty.

Now I can go sleep. I sure didn’t last night, as my good friends knew! Let’s hope the ride home goes well. We have the new halter and a t-shirt for Goldie to wear.

Got through the Day

That’s about all I can say. I did many things to distract me from how sad Goldie is looking. I just want to get her to the oncologist tomorrow to see if there’s any hope for giving her a pain free life.

I tried to keep busy like this gal and all the hummingbirds.

Thank goodness for goofy comedies. I watched the first episode of High Potential and then three episodes of Elsbeth. They were similar premises but both very funny. It helped. TV is good for something, sometimes.

Make That TWO Canine Concerns

It’s a pretty sad day over at the Hermits’ Rest. This morning I noticed Goldie was limping. Soon after, Lee pointed out a huge lump on her left front leg. What the heck?

Well, Lee was already planning to take Harvey in for his lump and official diagnosis, but he went over to Dr. Amy’s mobile clinic and asked them to come by when they were done in Cameron (not cheap, but better than trying to transport the two big dogs).

So, they showed up and the challenges of looking at our dogs commenced. Looking at Goldie was easy. She loves Kelly the vet tech and volunteered to be looked at, poked, and prodded by Amy, too. Then she happily trotted off to the truck to get weighed. We need more Goldies.

The bad news is that the lump is probably a mast-cell tumor. Yes, they can pop up that fast. Those are the bad ones. Dammit. She has some heavy-duty steroids and antibiotics to take to see if that will shrink it. She’s getting the treatment for anthrax. Intense. Of course she won’t eat it. Lee is working on her.

I’m picky. But I need to live, because Suna loves me.

It was harder to treat Harvey. He was all shivery and snappy. But with patience, Kelly got him muzzled and Amy was able to palpate his lump. Thankfully, it felt full of fluid, not bad things. It is the least of his worries.

We’re never coming back down (the toilet paper is used to block off the stairs).

The blood work on Harvey came back really bad. All his liver levels are awful, which means liver cancer. That’s the last thing our family needs, more of that. His abdomen is swelling, too. We discussed options and decided to try a medication that can help in dogs, Denamarin. It’s helped Pickle, Anita’s dog. I don’t know that it can do much, but it will be less traumatic than taking him somewhere to get scanned, which would just tell us what we already know. Sniff.

I’m still happy, other than when vet people are around.

A funny thing or two. We were all concerned he was losing hair. Well, he isn’t. Harvey had been shaved last week to remove a cyst, and the other smooth patch was from something else they did last week that Lee didn’t remember or know about. Also, Carlton was hilarious. He ran to greet them when they came in, but when he saw who it was, his tail went between his legs and his hair stood on end. Whoa, he is not fond of veterinarians.

I’ll just stay back here behind Harvey. He’ll protect me.

Were we done yet? No. Lee’s brother had asked if Dr. Amy had come to trim Vlassic’s toenails. No, she had not. No one wants to trim his toenails. He has gotten worse and worse about it as he ages, but the nails hurt Jim. So, they said they’d give it a try, as the rain began to pour.

This went very badly. Kelly tried to just hold Vlassic, but he acted like he was being murdered. It was horrific. He bit and screamed until Amy was able to stick a needle in him. They covered him in a towel until he settled. I don’t think we will let them try without sedation again, to save on potential human injuries. What an embarrassment.

Oh, and I forgot the icing on the cake: when Vlassic was squealing, Penney ran out through the gate and tried to take matters into her own hands. She started biting his butt! So we had to remove her and Goldie both. They were upset, of course.

Was I a good dog? Well, at least I was a wet dog!

We are just going to take things one day at a time now. At least horses are doing ok at the moment. I spent a lot of time after the rain stopped just walking around and breathing. I’m glad I have some centering tools to help me deal with this stuff.

And to top it all off there was another school shooting murder spree. Why do we keep giving unstable people access to assault weapons?

Welcoming Deaths and Treasuring Lives

It’s an interesting time for me, when it comes to life passages. While I’m fine and not going through a life change, I am privileged to know people who are heading toward the end of their time on this earth, as well as people who are honoring lives of loved ones whose spirits left before their bodies did. I’ve never been one of those people who feared death or worried about it much, but I have always been intrigued about the legacies our loved ones leave behind. So, I’m going to share some stories that have been causing me to think. Some readers who are mutual friends may be familiar with some of these, but I’m not naming names.

Coincidentally, I spent some time this afternoon with my friend Holly, who’s documenting graves at Walkers Creek Cemetery. This one was like a jigsaw puzzle.

The Strong Spirits

My colleagues at La Leche League tend to be people of great fortitude and spiritual depth. My very first role model in living a good life while facing death was my mentor, Roberta Bishop Johnson, who shared many insights and nuggets while she dealt with breast cancer in the 1990s. She made sure she was participating in the lives of her friends, offering up ideas, and sharing her love for her family right up until when she passed. That stuck with me.

Two of my other long-time LLL friends are nearing the ends of their journeys here with us, and both have been incredibly open about sharing their ups and downs, feelings about their bodies and what’s happening to them, and coming to terms with the fact that things are winding down. I really appreciate their openness and willingness to share.

Not everyone is up to doing this; I’ve known people who didn’t share what was going on with them at all, which is a completely understandable option, but takes away their friends and families’ ability to share life with them as fully as possible while they are here. But I get it; people don’t want to appear to whine, to bring others down, or to share the painful details.

For me, learning about how these two women have made sure to do things they’ve always wanted to do, while they can (one married the love of her life, and one made sure to get in travel with her children, especially to the beach), how they carefully planned for things after they are gone, and how they enjoyed their friends and family to the fullest all contributed to making me much more comfortable with dying on your own terms. I’m not saying they are lucky, but they do have the luxury of knowing what is happening and being able to plan accordingly. I know my dad would have liked that chance, so much.

One thing that comforts me greatly about knowing I won’t have these friends around much longer is that I know their spirits and legacies will remain. After Roberta passed away, I could still hear her tell me what she thought about what I was doing in my life. And I also still hear my dad (and tell him stuff; I can’t help it). We will feel these generous friends with us for years.

This tree growing around a t-post reminds me of the struggle to fight unwelcome things growing inside us. Sometimes you just have to accept them and keep growing anyway.

The Ones Whose Losses Happened before Death

Another set of friends I’ve learned a lot from in the past few weeks are two dear local friends whose mothers passed away recently, but had been gone in spirit since an Alzheimer’s diagnosis. These women felt like they’d lost their parents long before they actually passed away.

One just had the memorial get-together with her extended family, and it was more of a nice gathering to share good memories and enjoy each other. The mourning had happened years ago, when they lost her personality, or essence, or something. The other friend seems to have gone more into business mode, of taking care of details. She had been so kind to her mother, though, even with the difficulties of COVID. Who could blame her for feeling some relief and just wanting to move on to the next phase?

I feel a lot of sympathy for these people and their families. They’re sad, yet relieved that their parents aren’t dealing with confusion now (though, I know some people with dementia who are happy just as they are…it varies so much).

Takeaways

Watching all these events as a third party, not intimately involved like families are, has taught me some lessons, maybe not consciously. I think the reason I’ve gotten a second horse and plan to start lessons again is that I want to do these things while I still can. And getting a swimming pool installed and making the ranch house look better, too, were things I’d been putting off or giving up on. But, if I can’t have fun now, when am I supposed to?

To show how far I will go to make things fun, I spent quite some time trying to line up my head and my hat so it would look like I am wearing a tiny cowboy hat.

AND, as I’ve been telling myself for the last couple of years, I need to recommit to being with people who bring me joy and make my life pleasant, go places and do things that expand my mind, and take the time to find the fun in whatever I’m doing. I think that’s the key to enjoying whatever time we have here in this life–enjoying where you are and who you are with NOW.

With love in my heart for my friends heading toward big transitions or recovering from them, I invite you all to do something fun with someone you care about.