When Jon was in the hospital last summer, waiting to have his open heart surgery, I found a place inside myself to be. With all the unknowns that go along with such a procedure, I decided I was not going to allow my imagination to go wild with the possibilities of “what if” . I gathered as much information as there was and didn’t let my mind wander beyond the moment. I kept telling myself, this is what I know and I refused to entertain the unknowns, I stayed in the moment. Because I know what my mind will do if unleashed, and the rest of me has been known to follow it down some deep dark holes.
The chances of Jon coming out of his surgery healthier than when he went in were really good, so I kept that in the front of my mind and heart. But I also kept a small open door, in that space inside of me, for the unpredictable. I was not Pollyannaish, but reasonably optimistic. I’m sure I pushed a lot of my emotions aside, not with my interactions with Jon, but with everything else, just to be able to deal from hour to hour, day to day.
I learned that this worked for me. I was able to do what I had to do without denying what was really happening.
This morning when Jon came home from the Vet with Lenore, it turns out we’re in a waiting period. Waiting to see if the anti-inflammatories will work, if her pain lessens,that would mean what she has is most likely treatable. If they don’t work, and quickly, it means that what’s going on with her is much more serious. And although her diagnosis isn’t as hopeful as I would like, I’m staying in the moment with it all. Right now, we’re waiting to see what happens next. I don’t have to go anyplace else but where we are right now. And that small open door is hovering in the background, but there’s be enough time to go through it if and when it comes to that.
Right now Lenore is resting comfortably on the living room floor. And that’s good, she hasn’t been this easy in days. I brought her bed over for her, but when she didn’t lay on it, Frieda snatched it up. Makes it feel like things are almost normal.
You and Jon seem to be the most clear headed and reasonable people I know. I’m aware of the fact that this is a difficult time for you. Seeing Lenore in pain is pain enough for all of you and I know how much you all love her. She is a dear, sweet dog and I know that whatever comes, you and Jon will do what is best for her. I have a Lab of my own, my granddog (he belonged to my son until he had to move to a new situation) and he is so sweet and gentle, much like Lenore. I hope that you get some answers for Lenore quickly and that she gets well soon, In the meantime, my thoughts are for the three of you.
Best and fervent wishes for good progress with Lenore!
Love from Fran
Maria, I know that you will have lots of comments about Lenore and my heart goes out to you and Jon. And Lenore. Labs are nothing but sweet. The hardest thing about having and loving dogs is in the sudden loosing of them. Like you, I’m hoping for the best, particularly with your scheduled trip next week to Florida. Loosing anyone you love is very painful but I have difficulty when I hear people say: ‘well, it is just a dog’.
Sandy P, in Ont, Canada