Brodee

How was one to know that one day before their birthday, their life was going to change forever. Everyone’s life changes for the better or for the worst. Good news comes in many ways, just like the bad news does. But does the bad news ever create something so special and magical to happen? Meeting Brodee is exactly what took place for me.

The day before my birthday one cold March morning, I received the worst news of my life. They say that you should see your doctor once a year. To use your birthday has the reminder for such an event. Well, I chose not to for twelve years. However, this particular year I went to have my checkup.

Little did I know that the day would be a complete physical meltdown for me. I was diagnosed with Hairy Cell Leukemia. A disease that little was known about. What was known, was I waited too long to find out about it. My doctor told me the prognoses wasn’t good.

“Three to four years,” he said. “Three to four years. That is what you have left if you do not look into this now.”

Here I was, a husband, father of three, and in a new job that finally meant doing something good. Three to four years. At forty-two, I was too young to be told this. I wasn’t prepared. I had no idea of what to do.

The following week I went to a specialist to formulate a living plan. We took more tests and determined that my doctor was correct. So, what do we do? My new doctor and I looked into the medical world for the answer. We finally came up with a plan for my life-long treatment.

“It’s going to be a long painful process,” he said. “Treatments continuously forever.” “A lot at first, then less once we get passed the four-year mark.” He wasn’t kidding.

Finally, in April of that same year. Three weeks from the initial diagnosed date, I started treatments. A special chemo treatment that the first round required ten days of twenty-four-hour intravenous injections. The pain had no level of description. Once the ten days were up, I left the hospital sore and unsure of what my future would hold. I had to t return every week for six months to get the same chemo again. But this time for eight straight hours. Then it would slowly fade into two weeks, then three, then four. All the way to the four-year mark. After that, if I was still around, every six weeks for a four-hour period.

The pain would be so tormenting at times. Finally, my wife came up with a solution. He was little. He fit into my slipper and slept on a couch throw pillow. That little Beagle-lab mix male puppy was perfect.

See, I couldn’t work anymore or really go anywhere because of the treatments and the pain. So, Brodee and I would do things together. Play ball, walk on a leash, go for rides all harnessed up. Those were the best days. Made the pain seem to fade away. He kept me sane, focused, and alive. Another reason to get better. My family was always there, but always busy. They had their lives to live. I wanted nothing to change for them.

About four months into that first year with Brodee, I soon realized that I did not have a Beagle-lab mix buddy, but a Saint Bernard-lab mix puppy. He was a monster in size. But so loveable and the best friend anyone could as for.

One day after a really bad treatment, I found myself not able to move or handle the pain. It hurt terribly. My doctor gave me a prescription that was to assist the chemo and help reduce the pain. I soon discovered that I was terribly allergic to this medication.

One day during the hot summer sun, I turned into a scaly fish. Just as red as a cooked lobster. Brodee would not leave my side. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t eat, sleep, or do anything. Things were getting bad. Brodee got help. He got the attention of my family, and they took me to the doctor. In a few days I was better. Still fighting the chemo pain, but not with the scales and redness.

Brooded needed a reward. I pondered what to do. What to give him, my savior. I decided on a road trip to a park reserve in my truck. I soon realized what a true adventure it would become.

When he got up into the truck, He couldn’t have looked any happier. You would have thought he just won a blue-ribbon T-Bone steak.

I didn’t hook him into his harness. I let him ride and enjoy the wind. He decided that he would sit on my lap and ride. It made driving a little harder to do. So, slow we had to go. I think he knew that was what would happen, and that is why he rode on my lap.

The wind in his face, no leash on his neck, and no harness on his body. Free to enjoy the ride and wind.

Getting to the wooded reserve area was just as exciting. I let him out of the truck only to have him wait for me to get him on his leash. He didn’t realize that I wasn’t going to do that today.

We explored the area together. Running, playing, sniffing, looking, and feeling elated. Hard to imagine nature so beautiful and fulfilling. The smells, the sounds, the sights, and the feel of the cold brook water. Brodee helped me to discover things long lost to time.

Even though it was just a day, it allowed us to bond even more. It allowed me to realize that there was a lot more to life then pain and cancer treatments.

I never tied him up again. He was unleashed for life. He had a fenced in yard to play and explore. I took him on many road trips. He saw a summer parade. Things and life were about as great for him as it could get for a six-month old dog.

Yet, for every good thing people say there must come something bad. Times got hard for me and my family. I had to leave and live away from them. I had to get better.

Brodee never had another ride after that summer. He also never made it to his second birthday. My precious pal, died. He got sick. However, I couldn’t help him like he had helped me. That was seven years ago this past summer.

Brodee being unleased for a day allowed me to live longer and to enjoy things more completely than I ever had before.

Brodee, the Savior of Man, had eighteen-months. I now have a second chance on life. I think of what he did for me that day in the woods and in the truck. I know those memories will never fade. Because of that day, my two new buddies get to reap the reward of it. They never see a leash and the get rides as much as I can give them.

My Saint Bernard-lab mixed puppy saved my life. He saved my mine. He saved what was left of my tattered soul. He allowed me to live and enjoy the spirit of life. He was the true savior of this man.