Shakabuku *new ending…

Debi: You know what you need?
Marty: What?
Debi: Shakabuku.
Marty: You wanna tell me what that means?
Debi: It’s a swift, spiritual kick to the head that alters your reality forever.
Marty: Oh, that’d be good. I think.
—Grosse Pointe Blank

It’s this exchange that keeps being played over and over again along with our conversation with the vet.  Once a year, one dog out of the tons of dogs she sees at the hospital every year has a malignant melanoma, untreatable, inoperable.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I understand that I’m talking about my dog, not about my son.  I also knew very well that this day would eventually come, I’ve lived through 3 other dogs in my life and each time saying goodbye felt like the most painful experience I’d ever go through.  Sadie is no exception.  We don’t know how long she has, maybe weeks, maybe months.  We don’t really know how she feels, if she’s in pain, if she understands what’s going on inside of her.  What she does know is that the energy in our place has shifted tremendously, that she had lots of visitors this weekend, and that now she’s getting treats of beef jerky with American cheese with a pill smushed in between.  And she’s taking it all like a champ.  She’s still running in the back lot with her pal rocky, she still cuddles us in bed, and she’s still the first Persin in the house to hear Aleck make his first stir every morning.  However, she hasn’t “made” her bed since we washed her blood soaked cover from her surgery, something that used to be an almost nightly ritual, moving her paws around until it was just right before settling down on it.

Craig and I should be taking a page from her book right now.  We are far from champs.  The two of us just keep looking at each other muttering; it’s just too much.  We are loosing a member of our family, a huge source of comfort for both of us, our safety blanket.  The vet told me about an oncology clinic for animals and I’m definitely going to go there.  First, it would be great to get a second opinion, and secondly to see how we can make her comfortable and at what rate are we losing her.  But when, exactly will I be able to get over there?  Tomorrow we are meeting with a speech pathologist to make sure Aleck is feeding correctly since his weight gain has been so slow.  On Tuesday we have another round of OT and our first meeting with a nutritionist.  Then on Wednesday is his first surgery, and Friday we go back to the GI for a follow up.  This is just too overwhelming.

Fuck.  Yeah, I said it.  And so did a very good friend who NEVER swears when he heard the news.  He didn’t remember the last time he had sworn out loud, I did, when we lost our baby last summer.  Fuck.

Saturday night, after family and friends left our place, Craig and I had a talk about everything we’ve been through, everything we are going through, what would make things easier.  At some point money is always brought up, and I’ve brought it up in my blogs.  But money won’t bring back our baby girl, and money won’t save our Sadie Bear, and money couldn’t have prevented Aleck from being born with all of these obstacles.  There is nothing that could have saved us, and there is nothing that can save us.  So where do we go from here.  Of course we’ll continue to love and cherish Aleck, to move forward with all his treatments, but I could really use a week in bed.  Seven days without email, without cell phone, without crying, maybe under heavy medication, and with a TV in front of me loaded with favorite movies.  We all can dream.

But then what.  We watch Sadie die?  We wallow in our misery and self-pity?  We hold each other tight while energy, fun and light continue without us?  How can we get out of this spiral?  Is there an exit door in this vortex to hell?  Can I get that spiritual kick to head, and if so, will you come over and do it for me?

You may think I’m kidding, but that’s exactly what we need.  I’m not sure if it’s perspective I’m looking for, something that makes me stop, look at my life and be able to completely recognize that in the face of death we are so lucky and have so much.  We plopped down on the couch to watch one of our favorite guilty pleasures Saturday night, Degrassi.  This episode was about going to India.  Now, we thought it was a continuation of their story line, one of the girls was going to India for a science program, and we were really looking forward to the overly dramatic antics of our favorite teens.  Instead, it was a documentary about the actual cast going to India, traveling to the poor communities, the ones that have to worry about clean water, about food, about getting medical attention and having a roof over there heads.  Maybe Craig and I need to go to India.  Maybe we need to put ourselves somewhere, once we say goodbye to Sadie, that brings us back to reality. That makes us appreciate what we have and what we’ve lost.
We definitely need to rejuvenate our souls, our dreams, our vision for the future.  I think what we really need is some guarantee that somewhere, in the not so distant future, we will no longer feel like we are climbing up the steepest hill, slipping with each step, with this giant weight on our shoulders.  That maybe, just maybe, we’ll have a little bit of peace amongst the chaos.  Now, I know that everyone’s got their burdens to bear, and no one has only peace and happiness in their life, stresses and new challenges are always waiting around the corner.  But to know that somewhere down the road we’ll be able to catch our breath, put our feet up for a few moments without feeling sad and heavy, and be able to enjoy those little victories when they come our way instead of focusing on all of the losses.  After all, life really is about enjoying the good things,the small moments of joy, in between all the chaos, recognizing those periods of happiness and laughter during that rest stop up that very steep hill.