The True Love Story That Has Left Me Forever Changed
I never thought that my heart would be strong enough to welcome another dog into my life after my nearly 14-year-old female German Shepherd, Egypt, died on July 5, 2018 after many months of watching her body fall apart and her quality of life deteriorate, first slowly then unbearable quickly it felt. Losing her was the hardest experience of my life. It's hard for a lot of people to understand, but I grieved for her so intensely that it effected my health, mentally as well as physically. I felt irrevocably changed to my core. She and I had been through an INCREDIBLE life story together. For years, she was my ONLY companion and those years of self-isolation in California with Egypt are some of my most cherished memories. She was my soul mate and taught me how to love. Her infirnment period lasted about 9 months. Those were both the longest and the shortest 9 months of my life. I was forced to grapple with intensely raw emotions on a daily basis, unlike any I ever thought I'd have to face. Each day my only goal was to try and love her as well as she had always made me feel loved. Her body was betraying her, but her mind was as sharp as it had always been and her pure black coat was as shiny and solid black as when she was a pup. She never even went grey, except for a few hairs between the toes of her paws. But I watched helplessly as her hind legs started to weaken. I started with just shortening her walks. Then, about four or five months before her death, I decided that allowing her to navigate the stairs in my house were too dangerous after she stumbled mid-flight while attempting to walk upstairs. She crouched down in the middle of the stairs and whined in fear. My heart ached for her. She had always been so proud and strong. My guardian Angel, my rock, my soul-mate, my peace, my joy. She never complained, never whined, never begged... not even as her hind legs slowly, then quickly, became paralyzed by Degenerative Myelopathy... she was strong and brave. I lived for those moments when I was blessed with her expressions of joy. Happily panting in the yard on a perfect Spring day, the sight of her tail wagging as she remained laying on her bed as I brought her the homemade food I had started preparing her in an attempt to slow her disease progression (which amazingly, did result in a slight improvement to her mobility for a joyous couple of months right before her legs seemed to go out completely) I convinced myself that her agility was better on some days than others. I told myself that if I loved her well enough, by making her healthy food, talking to her, and surrounding her with nature whenever possible, then she wouldn't be so distressed by a body that she was steadily losing control of. But I'd often catch
An Angel Puppy in Exchange for a Uterus: You Got a Deal GOD
The Day God Gave Me the Victor(y) I Never Expected and Probably Don't Deserve I bought a first generation Labradoodle from a local farmer for $400, the VERY DAY I was released from the hospital following an emergency hysterectomy after a cancer diagnosis. I was 40 years old and childless because I had always figured that having a child would "just happen" for me one day, I guess. I had my fertility checked in my 20's during the first year of my marriage, but that was more out of simple curiosity, rather than some driving desire to have a baby as soon as possible. I had a clean bill of health, and I had never had a fibroid or polyp or anything out of the ordinary, so I figured it would eventually happen. But I also felt (or thought I did) okay with the idea that maybe it wouldn't happen, and I felt okay with that possibility too. I was already 40, but the feeling that my future was beautifully unknown, either way, kept me from ever actually mentally/emotionally confronting the topic of a child. I just didn't feel that strongly about the idea of being a mother, either way. But then, in one horrifying afternoon, a final decision on that topic was made for me. I went in for simple fibroid surgery on November 12, 2019, then 9 days later, on November 21, 2020, I'm being told by my OB-GYN of two years, who had flatly DENIED my request for an in-office endometrial biopsy months earlier, even dismissed my request that he do a simple CULTURE (which requires nothing more than half a minute of his time and a Q-tip, fyi, in case there are men reading this lol)... that my "fibroid" was actually a super rare form of Uterine Sarcoma and that I would need an immediate hysterectomy. The hysterectomy came on Wednesday December 11, 2019. On the morning of Friday, December 13th 2019, for the first time out of the 8 total days I had been brought a hospital breakfast tray, a pretty young woman in purple scrubs handed me that day's newspaper with the most genuine, and dazzling smile on her face that I had seen on any human being in what seemed like years to me. My spirit felt so pulverized that I didn't think I'd ever truly experience the joy that a simple kind smile from a stranger used to bring me, always right on time, though, the generously shared joy from a fellow human being is God's emergency anti-depressant, in my life's experience. But, I no longer even felt connected to my own spirit after the experience of the previous five months. It was an experience I can only describe as a feeling of being SHOVED onto a torturous journey of cancer by the cold and uncaring, incompetent little hands of a man who spent all of 3 minutes telling me about the extremely rare and aggressive Uterine Sarcoma that his lacking medical knowledge had insisted was simply a massive "fibroid" that had to be removed through a large C-section type incision because of the "highly unlikely" chance that it was a malignancy. HE told me that because of that "off-chance", it was vital that he had to remove the growth in one piece, because dissecting (also known as morcellating) a malignant uterine growth within the human body could release cancer cells throughout the entirety of that human body and there'd be no stopping it's spread in every direction. So, as much as I hate to admit to any form of vanity... 💅🏽lol, I reluctantly came to terms with the fact that I'd be losing one of the few perks of still being childless at 40... a smooth, shapely mid section. It's so ridiculous to think back when just a year ago my biggest concern was the hassle of rubbing cocoa butter on my belly day and night. I had no idea that I'd be nursing a far more deadly consequence than just my vanity in just 3 short weeks.