It Really Is A Dog Eat Dog World or Violence Is Never The Answer, Unless You Are Breaking Up An Assault

Entry 1    9:47 a.m.

Buddy just hurt Willow. They had been playing as usual.  Occasionally he gets grumpy.  He clearly doesn't like that he is sharing his territory.   The two of them were rolling around, wrestling by my feet, when she started whelping.  I looked over to see he had her pinned to the floor and was biting her lip.  I tried to pry him off of her, he had hold of her lip and wouldn't let go.  It wasn't overzealous playing, it was intentional.  He gets pissy sometimes when they are playing. She can be super annoying, pulling his tail, biting his ears with her sharp baby teeth.  But this was an order of magnitude more aggressive than Buddy's usual growl, nudge or nip.  When I couldn't get him to release her by pulling on him and yelling let go, I hit him for the first time ever, then stuck my hand in his mouth, which was still gripped tighty around her lip, pulled and yelled.  He released her then, and I crated him. He is having a really hard time, despite getting more attention than usual.  She is fine, no blood that I can see.  But when he didn't release when she was crying out, I was shocked, baffled, and then angry.  I know he is a dog, and I know he likely won't do it again, given the yelling, the swat on the butt, and the time out.  Nevertheless, it has me worried.

Summer.  I love summer. The weather, pleasant memories of my youth floating down the Cedar River, memories of when my own children were younger, when my mom was alive, when Jenny and I traveled across the country in a tiny truck with no air conditioning. Today is chemo day.  I have been up with the dogs since 5, although the bonus is that after taking them out to relieve themselves, Willow came and snuggled me for a long time.  FYI, Buddy is laying against my hip as I type this, so he isn't being left out in the cold. I do not know whether Jenny will get her CA 19-9 measured today, I hope not, but will be checking every 10 minutes after the labs are done, even though I know the results won't come in for about 90 minutes.  Jenny is in good spirits and feeling well, out at a friend's house playing Scrabble, actually.

Work is steady, so I can't complain.  But, on these Thursdays I don't accompany her to chemo, it is on my mind constantly.  July 15 will be 48 weeks of chemotherapy.  48 weeks.  Most don't live six months with this diagnosis, more quit or have to stop chemo because of its toxicity.  Jenny keeps going.  But my fear only mounts, hating that she is receiving palliative care and not curative chemotherapy.  I cry more often now, the anger of the affair a dull rumble in my stomach, as I know my children will lose their mother, and I will lose another big piece of me, the best part of me.  She seems so healthy, that sometimes this doesn't seem real.  Don't misunderstand, she is in pain almost constantly, is weak often, and after chemo down for a few days. But then, its back up and at it.

Burying the Lede

My life, our lives are consumed with this.  Home hunting provided distraction.  Jenny wants to die at home, if she has to die at all.  I know how important having a home is to her, so we hunt.  And hunt.  Last Friday we missed our chance at a ridiculously huge home on a protected greenbelt and on a dead end.  Built in 2007, 3300 square feet, on .83 acre, solar paneling, heat pump, well manicured grounds and, oh yeah and an ADU.  The deal went south yesterday, I learned after seeing the listing pop up again yesterday afternoon, after it had been removed last week.  Well, we bought it.  It will be ours after a few hoops and closing.  It's a far cry from all the craftsmen (craftsmen?) we looked at, isn't on Beacon Hill or in Columbia City, or even upper Rainier Beach.  But, its close enough and in a solidly racially and economically mixed neighborhood in Boulevard Park. We still will have a Seattle address, but just.  Here it is:





















Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Life, A Cascading Series of Disappointment

Image
Jenny has cancer.  Terminal cancer.  We learned that in late July. Jenny had  dropped 25 lbs. in the spring without trying.  She had been having vague stomach complaints since October.  As a balm for her concerns, her doctor agreed to do a CT scan for her, but told her they would find nothing.  Jenny wanted to rule out pancreatic cancer, which had recently killed her dad-in the spring of 2019.  Her mother had been sick with lymphoma since February 2020.  The day of the scan, the doctor told Jenny they would get results back in a few days. When Jenny's phone rang that same afternoon, I was in the living room with Abby, where I was torturing her by playing the Rapping Duke on Youtube. Jenny shouted from the room, "Geoff, get in here, the doctor's on the phone." "You have a four cm. mass on your pancreas,"  he said. Jenny made a sound like someone had punched her in the stomach.  "There is a spot on your liver. You have a necrotic lymph nod...
Read more

Still Muddling Through Somehow

Image
At the park, I walked my dog through the rain this morning— not really proper rain— more like air that has decided to shrug water at you out of habit. It suited my mood well enough. As I walked, my thoughts kept returning to the same small universe they often do. They are not new thoughts. They orbit the same losses. They consider the same betrayals, the same questions that never resolve. They have been captured, these thoughts, never to escape, never to be forgotten, never to burn up in the atmosphere. It is simply the gravitational field of my life now. What might seem or feel like self-pity is more like muscle memory, which tells me I need more exercise. The holidays are here, and Christmas has always been central to my life, atheist that I am. It was stitched into Jenny’s life — the love of Christmas — at least as strongly as it was stitched into mine. We carried that love forward with the kids, year after year, without ever needing to talk about why it mattered; it just did. I...
Read more

Don't Do It, Don't Do It, Oh, Lord

Image
It Hurts, It Hurts So Bad.  .  . 3:44 a.m. I walked in the door last night at just before 10 to find Jenny in a ball on the floor--between the giant ottoman and sectional--agonizing pain in her hip. I had ridden to acting with the student driver.  But, let's back up. Jenny had chemo yesterday.  Her friend Jennifer took her.  It was uneventful and she received chemo.  I, as always, prepared the house for her arrival to make sure she wanted for nothing and would be comfortable as she endures the aftermath of all that poison.  Sometime before she came home, she texted, saying the doctor suggested she try Aleve for her hip pain.  Aleve.   She asked me to pick some up for her while Abby was at acting.   During the text exchange I realized she would be alone after Abby and I left for acting.  Leiney was elsewhere and had therapy at 5 and kickboxing later, and her sister Moni had bailed on chemo because she had so much to do (Wit...
Read more