Fuck Cancer.

(This post was written on 5/26)

*********

There –  I did it. I finally said it. I’ve always depended on a prolific vocabulary to keep me from uttering vulgarities on such a public site.  I delight in profanity. Truly. And though I tend to keep it tucked away behind closed doors, the only word I have to describe what is going on in our lives at this moment is FUCK. 

I’m two days removed from the news. I have forced the tears from my eyes and have sealed up the gateway in an effort to maintain a little hope, strength, and light. Maybe not for me, but for him:

Ivan has been diagnosed with a late stage liver cancer. 

Ok Fuck. I lied. The gateways aren’t quite sealed. Writing it, seeing it in print, means it is real. 

It’s been almost 3 years since we lost the other half of our family, and I am still not quite over Miah’s death. And though she was taken far too soon, there is something that feels unjust in this world losing a soul that has been with me since I was 21 years old. 

I know dogs die. I know that their lives are fleeting in comparison to ours. I know that anyone who takes on a playful pup is naive if they don’t realize that at the end of their play, a hard decision and the most painful goodbye awaits. 

Ivan is 12 and a half years old. I’m lucky. 12 and a half years of happy. Licked tears. Bedtime snuggles. Nightly walks. Christmas presents. Shared bowls of popcorn. Strolls down by the pond on Fox Cross. 

Just really, really good memories. 

But Ivan is not just a great dog – he has been the center of my universe for 12 years. He came to me at the beginning of a marriage and the start of the most turbulent decade of my life. When I had very little will to get out of bed, one lick on my cheek in the morning had me up and taking on the day. He gave me purpose when I had none. The first one to greet me in the morning and the last kiss before bed each night. This kid is just so much more than a dog. 

I’m lucky. 12 years. But I’m greedy and selfish and have a tendency to dream. And therefore, I want more time with my boy. More licks and cuddles and play on the farm. 

We’ve been told it won’t be long. Ivan has stopped jumping up on the bed, so we moved our mattress on to the floor in the living room and we plan to have a slumber party every night with Ivan. Every walk he wants (and believe me, he still really wants his walks and adventures) every ride he wants, every toy and treat and luxury he wants – he will get. And not that he has not always been lavished with these things, but because I don’t know what else to do to hold onto these last days. 

I don’t want to take photos of my dying dog. But I’m going to. I don’t want to take videos that remind me that cancer is winning while he is still smiling. But I’m going to. I don’t want to stop crying and hiding the fact that my heart is breaking while my soul mate fades.  But I’m going to. 

For him. 

If you are of the believing kind, maybe shoot up a couple extra thoughts for my boy that he is as comfortable as can be in the last chapter. And maybe a spare one that I make it through this. 

Oh, Fuck Cancer. 

************

(Today, 6/4, Ivan is doing extremely well. We made a drastic change in our course of action and will share tomorrow what we are doing that’s making all the difference. Stay tuned…)