I Fear My Pheromes Have Dried Up Completely

I slept much better last night. Out like a light at 11pm and woke up at 5.45 (eek), took some pill and conked out again till 8am. Felt much better despite succumbing to pharmaceutical oblivion.  

I attended a Buddhist lecture last night, which I wasn’t really looking forward to, but I am so glad I made the effort. It really switched my mood, I re connected with my higher self, with life, and came back feeling clearer and able to cope again. I don’t know how long that will last for but I just live day to day at the moment.

Nutty is in really good form despite all this. But I am terrified that his cancer is growing sideways, out of his mouth now, but Boyfriend on a Short Fuse keeps saying it’s better it grows sideways than upwards, which would make it harder for him to eat and pressurize the roof of his mouth. I would prefer not to see it growing at all. Oh please let it stay the same! Or best case scenario, get smaller! Psychic Douser was circumspect. She didn’t want to upset me and just said `well it’s not got any smaller…..’ her healing did help him though. After the last session he stopped drinking constantly and now is drinking normally. So hopefully his little kidneys are working better.

Boyfriend on a Short Fuse very grumpy today. So different from the early days when we so loved being near each other. I sniffed one of his old shirts today and flinched at the stink. At one time I loved the smell of his sweat. I think my phreromes have dried up due to stress. I am dead from the waist down, my goodness I hope I regenerate again.

But tonight we went out for an early supper to our favourite place, The Orange, and he was as nice as pie. Amazing the effect good food has on men. I paid as he has done so much lately, installed the dreaded IKEA wardrobes, walked the dogs…. really I am so glad to have a partner. But I suppose I would never have taken on 3 dogs by myself. And the thought of coping with Nutty’s illness alone would be too much to bear.

My Dog Has Cancer and I Fear the Grief Will Kill Me

Another very up and down day. I alternate between feeling strangely buoyant and weepy and full of despair. I think the former is a normal but strange reaction that humans have in a crisis. I suppose it helps us cope when things are just too dreadful.

I woke up too early at 6.30am or so. When I get tired and run down my adrenals get knackered so I run on febrile and unsustainable energy. When that runs out I feel shattered and either keep going or go and lie down. But true rest evades me.

Until Nutty’s diagnosis I was feeling quite good, rested and relaxed. The night before last I was so exhausted I was out like a light waking up exactly 8 hours later, but I still felt exhausted. Should try to get to bed before 11.30pm but we are not managing that.

People’s reactions are hurtful too. My grief is hard to explain to a non-dog lover. But the truth is that the thought of losing Nutty is far, far worse than when my mother died. But as Nutty was her dog people have suggested that my grief is tied up with losing her. I didn’t grieve so much when she died,  maybe I am doing it now, three years later, through her dog?

I had a good session with my cranial osteopath. He is a lovely man and good in a crisis. Because he is so sympathetic as soon as he meets me in reception and asks how I am, my eyes and throat just well up. In his room I start to sob and explain how desperate I feel. Cranial work is very effective calming down the nerves. After the session, which did soothe me, he said, `I don’t know if I should share this with you – the last time I felt this with someone they turned out to be pregnant’ (why he says this as a prelude to something really quite gentle I don’t know) `but’, he continued, `I felt a real expansion when I was working on your temples. A real blossoming …there is a great feeling of joy coming out. The sense that through this experience something really wonderful will happen’.

`Although I could tell you are going through trauma, there is an underlying strength and vitality. Don’t underestimate yourself.’

I was happy to hear this, it made me feel there was a chink of brightness at the end of this terrible long dark tunnel. I confided that I thought about ending it all, wanting the relief of cutting short my life as the pain is just so intense. He explained that I would not be ending pain, but creating more pain to those I leave behind. I know Boyfriend on a Short Fuse would be distraught, it would probably ruin his life. But everyone else… well I expect they would get over it soon enough (although perhaps Teflon-dad might be moved to take a day off work).

I must stay strong. So much to do, so much joy, still, to experience, I hope.

Before I left for the osteopath I was running a bit late because I wanted to give Nutty his homeopathic pill. I couldn’t find it as the flat is a mess, reflecting my messy, anxious brain. So I was running round like a headless chicken, thinking, if I can give him his pill he will get better, if I can’t find it he will get worse… but eventually I found the pills and left the flat.

I feel so despairing as his cancer is pushing out of the side of his mouth. For the first time I can see it when his mouth is shut. I chant every day for the beastly lump to disappear. Out damned spot!

When Boyfriend on a Short Fuse is being kind I can cope but when he starts up it is so much harder.

Tonight he exploded because  I had filled up the dogs water bowls to full (and they were side by side as I hadn’t got round to taking one out to the hall).

`WHY CAN’T YOU BE MORE PRACTICAL!!’ he screamed.

`I’m sorry!’ I shouted, `I can’t be perfect!’

He went on and on and eventually I threw a cup of Nuttys’ peroxide cleaning mix over his shirt. Stupid bastard. He went upstairs and I prayed oh please don’t leave, don’t leave, I am too tired to take the dogs out myself! And I hate it when he storms out anyway.

But he was just changing his shirt and had calmed down. That’s the thing about him, he is quickly enraged but calms down quickly. Whereas when slighted I will hold on to the grudge …. forever! I hate the rows because although Nutty is deaf he can pick up on the atmosphere and I hate to have him stressed.

When things had calmed down, I took Nutty up to the bath, got out a luxurious shampoo sample I had been saving for him and gave him a good wash and condition. I paid particular attention to his jaw which is dark and encrusted with blood where his cancerous abscess is weeping.

When I had finished I lifted him out of the bath, aching with fear and tenderness as he is so light. It is so pitiful. He is so thin when his fluffy surround of tawny fur is flat and wet. He just allows me to do anything to him, patiently waiting while he is washed, just trusting that his mummy has his welfare at heart.

I towel dried him and he was so happy to be clean (and relieved the ordeal is over!) He dashed around like a young pup, nearly knocking over the phone and computer as he ran under the table and around the room! Then he started barking with joy. The tinies (our two bichon frises) ran up to see what the commotion was about and got excited too. These moments are such a joy, such pure happiness. That is why I have started to chronicle each experience so I will never forget the happiness he brings me every moment we are together.

I called my Buddhist friend, T, today for a chat. Talking to her calmed me and lifted my spirits so much. She is a very pure-hearted person and talked a long time about how she’s benefitted from being grateful, the importance of enjoying every moment with Nutty and the eternity of life. That I could determine to be with Nutty again in my next life. I want to be with him again in this life. Perhaps in a few years I will come across a pup and we will recreate our bond. She explained how she changed and became more empathetic after the heartbreak of losing her father.

Later I watched a programme about the poor in America. Today’s recession is as bad as the Great Depression apparently. The worst thing for me was an impoverished family giving up one of their two dogs. How could they do this? Leaving the poor dog behind at the shelter as it howled for them. I do think people have hearts of stone I really do. I’d as soon live in my car with my dogs than live without them. If they would not give up one of their children, how could they give up their dog? This sort of thing floors me. The other mystery is why people who run shelters have to always keep the dogs separated? Some dogs may be aggressive but the majority are not. Old pictures of Battersea Dogs Home show that all the dogs romed around together. But people these days are obsessed with admin and bureaucracy to the extent of all else.

A consultation With the Homeopathic Vet and the Dog Psychic

Yesterday was awful. We drove down to Potters Bar to consult the homeopathic vet. It took one and a half hours each way, which is disagreeable for the poor old boy. Still it was necessary. Vet was sympathetic and says he doesn’t know what the prognosis will be. But if the growth in his mouth is no worse in a month, there is a good chance Nutty will be able to live with it for a good while. If it gets worse, he will have to put him down I suppose. I can’t bear for my boy to suffer so it will break my heart but I will have to do it.

Vet prescribed a battery of homeopathic pills and tinctures, including colloidal silver, anti-tumour drops and pills, as well as extract of shitake mushroom, so at least I have a regime to follow, which makes me feel I can do something. He says surgery is not really an option. Nutty is too old and surgery would be painful. There is no guarantee operating would not kill him or that the cancer would not reappear.

Sara went through the same thing with her beloved dalmation and she was inconsolable. But six months later she is feeling better but then again, she has a very full life with three children, work, friends…. thank God I have Boyfriend on a Short Fuse. He has been foul recently but sweet as pie today.

Although I feel unsupported sometimes, at least I do have him. Imagine being single and having no family (I don’t really like to confide in eco-brother or teflon-dad, they are not very emotional and just don’t understand this sort of thing, but in an emergency I know they would be there). I have told one or two people but to be fair I haven’t really told many. I can’t face it just yet.

It separates the real friends from fair weather friends to be sure. I left a message with my old friend M, who I’ve recently got back in touch with after twenty (!) years. It’s been lovely to reconnect and we had a nice lunch together. I had to cancel our next lunch because the thought of showing my tear-stained face in public is too much. I actually called her mobile (she is another one who doesn’t like the telephone, relying exclusively on Facebook and text). I didn’t get a call back but received the predictable text a few days later sympathising with my plight. My handset is so ancient it deletes messages that are quite long so I didn’t even see half of it. I shan’t persevere, I can’t stay in touch with people who only want to text. Oddly enough texters always seem very keen to meet up whereas telephone people are just as happy to leave it for a while and stay in touch on the phone. Perhaps the texters are a bit starved of human contact. Personally a good natter on the phone is good enough for me most of the time.

Yesterday Boyfriend on a Short Fuse was so moody, I really thought about going it alone again. I think like this but then he miraculously improves, his mood lifts (helped that we made love this morning although I must say I have zero feeling in that department at the moment), and I think, yes, we do have a future.

It was lovely in the park this afternoon, bright, warm and sunny and the best day of the year so far. Nutty trotted towards me like Aslan emerging from the sun, the brightness like a halo around his beautiful tawny fur. Oh how I love him!

Earlier I was going through the vitamins in the kitchen cupboard (rather a lot – my flat so full of healthy potions it’s like the Mind Body and Spirit Exhibition). I picked up a large brown glass bottle of homeopathic pills I had bought in bulk to help with his stiff old joints and just cried and cried. I suppose he will have no more use of them now as his health concerns are so much more serious…. It’s the small things that bring a great lump to the throat.

We visited the psychic douser for more insights. She liked most of the supplements the vet had prescribed and did some healing. She said his kidneys are in a bad way as he is drinking so much water. But since the healing he has been drinking less so I am very hopeful. She said I looked tired. It’s true, I am shattered. Had a helpful session with A, the breath-guru, as he modestly describes himself. He is brilliant though and I felt so chilled after our session. I confided that I had been feeling so depressed I wanted to end it all, had even been on the Dignitas website. He insisted I did have strong reserves and must draw on them through my breath. `Choose Life’, he kept saying as we breathed, which I thought apt (after the Buddhist activity I did, also called Choose Life, based on the profound dialogues between Dr Ikeda and Dr Arnold Toynbee).  

As I  write, Boyfriend on a Short Fuse (see, he is useful), has just brought the dogs back from their late night walk. I hear the clip clop on wood as Nutty slowly and gingerly climbs up the stairs to find me and then nuzzles my hand in greeting. Now he is off to drink some water. Not unnatural amounts I hope.

I’ve been googling up rentals in Maui. When Nutty goes I have decided (although I keep changing my mind about where we should live), to move to Hawaii. S longing to go (so he says). I was thinking about buying a caravan in Camber Sands just for Nutty to have access to the outside at all times, but pyschic douser said he is very content in the flat. It’s a relief, he hates travelling and I hate to put him through long journeys. But I am keeping an open mind. Things change from day to day and my mind moves accordingly.

I thought we might have years left with Nutty. It’s such a shock. But at least he has lived a full life. Fifteen is a good long life for a Sheltie. Although not nearly long enough obviously. I thought he would live till twenty (especially after seeing the Youtube video of the twenty year old Sheltie). Sometimes I feel philisophical about it, but most of the time I just feel devastated. 

Toastgate - Boyfriend on a Short Fuse Loses the Plot

Felt very low today. Anxiety about nutty's horrible, growing mouth cancer came over me in surges. Some of the time I am OK and thinking about other things, but then, suddenly, I will think about losing him and I will break down. But he is so well in himself. He is eating well, drinking rather a lot - but pretty perky all things considered. I am cooking him fresh chicken regularly. I poach a bird every few days and puree it with veg and quinoa. Pureed food is so much easier to eat and one eats more than if it is in pieces.

Boyfriend on a Short Fuse and I went to chant at P’s today. That was very nice and everyone sympathetic about Nutty. Then Boyfriend on a Short Fuse took dogs to his mum for the day, giving me a blissful day to myself. I do love Sundays alone. I went to yoga but the teacher is very stressy and controlling. She is quite a good teacher and I enjoy the exercises but she is so bossy. and disconcertingly fat. She got upset because I like to be at the back of the class away from all the mirrors. I suspect some Iyengar influence with her, that is a very bossy discipline and Iyengar teachers like to rap you on the leg if you are doing something `wrong’ (well, wrong to them).

I was so tired when I came back. Revived myself with a small bowl of chicken and mayonnaise (I am drowning in chicken at the moment what with cooking so much of it for Nutty) with smoked salmon then went to bed for a few hours. Amazingly I actually dropped off which was delicious. Napping in the afternoon is a heavenly indulgence.

I dragged myself out of bed to get on with paperwork. I am behind in all admin at the moment and post is stacking up alarmingly. It is a struggle to keep going.

I felt so low that I was researching the Dignitas Assisted Dying clinic. I felt some disappointment that you have to be terminally ill to be considered.  `Healthy’ people can’t just roll up to Zurich and get their terminal injection sadly. They must just throw themselves under trains or out of windows or hang themselves like poor G’s daughter. Although I think seriously about ending it all I must pull myself together. I would cope better if I felt more supported. It’s OK when Boyfriend on a Short Fuse is calm, but when he is shouting at me (last night, he had a fit because I went into kitchen as he was making himself some toast and honey, I asked if I could have a nibble which set off a terrible rage that went on for hours).

I miss the past when friends would actually ring me up rather than just email/text. S calls, thank God, and J and D, but most people just email. L, who is a close friend, dislikes the phone. Ditto elusive brother who emails fairly regularly and likes to meet up but admits he rarely calls anyone. It makes me feel sad and lonely but what can you do. Under the circs, is it any surprise I put up with Boyfriend on a Short Fuse. At least he is human and here.

Fearful row last night after the toast issue. Ended with me saying `is it any wonder I don’t find you physically attractive any more?’ It's not really true but I say it just to dent Boyfriend on a Short Fuse's teflon coating. Although to be honest, what with dealing with the Beloved's cancer, sex is the last thing on my mind. I would trade sex for his health any time.

Feeling Hopeful....

February 29 Friday

I am calmer today. The occasional emotional surge when I sob unrestrainedly, but I am feeling more in control and more hopeful that perhaps the Beloved’s cancer might be kept under control, not get worse, or perhaps just spontaneously disappear. With all the powers we have at our disposal , the efforts we are making…. oh surely we can make the impossible possible.

Generally I feel slightly paralyzed. Since the diagnosis I haven’t been very active. Paper work is piling up as I sit at home researching cures and trying to find a country property to rent so Nutty can have fresh air and access to the outside. Tomorrow I will do more, get on top of things.

Thank god I don’t `work’ and can have time at home to (not) get on with everything.

Had a good cranial session with my regular lovely Osteopath Who Won’t Stop Talking, now back from holiday. Although I’ve tried several osteopaths recently, none of them are as good, although I wish he would not constantly talk. But today I was glad for the chat for he is so sympathetic and kind, so full of wise words about dealing with loss.

Earlier I took Nutty out with our 2 rescue Bichon Frises (the Tinies) to the park. I am patient with him as he shuffles along beside me. He is very slow now, but that’s OK. I sat on a bench and chanted for 15 minutes as he lay down beside me, it’s been cold recently but we were warmed a little by the setting sun 

I am enjoying these small moments with him and make the most of all of them.

 

 

I Wake up to a Nightmare

I went to bed last night and my head was saturated and swollen with tears. I had to sleep propped upright a bit as I was suffocating in them. I took a bit of Ambien and managed to sleep. What a relief to escape from the news for a few hours, but oh the misery of jolting awake into the full force of our new reality and a head so solidified with tears it had turned into cement.

My biggest fear has now come to pass.

But I coped OK as the day went on. I am adapting to the horrible news and in action mode. I’m working hard, using all my ingenuity and resources to make sure our lovely boy is getting the best treatment available.

It was wonderful to talk to Sara, who as usual is so good in a crisis. Very few people are, I’ve realised. I’ve learnt not to depend on anyone really, as when bad news comes a lot of people bury their heads in the sand. Sara put her dog down only a few months ago and I supported her through. It helps to talk to someone who understands.

I booked some cranial osteopathy which helped release the pressure in my skull. A nice therapist but as usual with all these people, the back massage just too weak. Oh for a proper deep massage that gets into the knots!

I also felt better after talking to the homeopathic vet who is so soothing and encouraging. I have booked a consultation with him in Potters Bar this week. He is booked up till then but he recommended some homeopathic remedies. Boyfriend on a Short Fuse and I drove to Ainsworth to pick them up so I feel better for having taken action. I visited the butcher in the Fulham road for a good chicken which I poached for Nutty’s dinner, with some quinoa and veg. Nothing is too much trouble!

He has a marvellous appetite, I am so relieved. I’ve been giving him more food than usual to build him up. He has lost a kilo and I want to make the most of his good appetite, in case it becomes too painful for him to eat or he loses his appetite.

I burst into tears at strange times, whenever I mention it on the phone to someone…. Tears just spurt out of me, I have no control. Better out than in.

Such joy to see his little furry long face first thing in the morning and whenever I rush up the stairs after being out. He is always so delighted to see me. Even when we’re out with Boyfriend on a Short Fuse, Nutty always cleaves to me. He stops when I stop and walks by my side, straining sometimes to keep up. Each moment is a bonus with my dear darling friend. No one has ever loved me as much. I wonder if I will ever love anyone as much as I love him. I hope so. I will miss the love. I will miss the love most of all and it will leave a big love-shaped hole in my life.

The Worst Day of My Life...

 February 28 2013

Today we had the devastating news that our beloved 15-year-old Sheltie, Nutty, has cancer of the mouth.

It started off an ordinary, perfectly pleasant day.

Boyfriend on a Short Fuse noticed yesterday that there was a bit of blood dotted about on the floor and we thought one of the dogs might have a scratch and weren’t too worried. Then he looked in Nutty’s mouth and noticed he had a pink bleeding growth around the teeth in his lower jaw.

His appetite has been good and he is drinking normally (although he always drinks rather a lot), he is in good spirits and wagging his tail as usual. So we thought it must be some sort of abscess or tooth infection.

I rang the homeopathic vet but he had just left so we took him down to the conventional vet in Elizabeth Street. While Boyfriend on a Short Fuse was waiting with Nutty, I popped into the off licence next door. At this point I wasn’t too worried and joked to the assistant, `I’m taking my dog to the vet, so if it’s bad news I’ll need a glass of champagne and if it’s good news I’ll need a glass of champagne’ (shades of Mrs Bollinger).

Imagine my horror when she diagnosed squamous cell carcinoma (a type of mouth cancer). I am no longer the public weeper I used to be, I actually dislike public displays of emotion the older I get (very English), but the pain was so visceral, like a knife in my heart and I just lost control. I burst into tears and was unable to stop sobbing for hours afterwards. While I waited to pay I was sitting in the waiting room full of people, just sobbing.

Boyfriend on a Short Fuse stormed off with Nutty as he hates it when I cry and everybody else studiously ignored me.

I couldn’t believe the diagnosis. Nutty has always been so lucky, somehow untouched by the ravages of illness or old age. He is a super-dog. This is so much worse than Mum dying, isn’t that odd? But I love my beloved boy more than anyone, more than boyfriend, more than family. He is my family. He has been part of our pack for over 15 years. He knew my mother and grandparents, we have so much shared history. He is always with me, his little foxy snout always smiling, never complaining, he is so stoic.

I’ve taken some Ignatia for the grief and feel a bit calmer, but it is a nightmare. We aren’t that keen on this vet so I have booked a telephone consultation with the homeopathic vet, Richard Allport, tomorrow morning.

How I pray there is a treatment, the conventional vet can only offer surgery. She advised against this as the cancer often recurs…. But oh, surely it is worth trying. He is such a strong dog.

Boyfriend on a Short Fuse is doing his healing method, I am doing Reiki (I trained in it years ago and am rusty but it comes back) and we are chanting.

What else can we do?