Reacquainting Myself with Anguish

The discovery of Hudson's new tumor has reawakened my soul deep dread of what is to come.  I asked him last night to just give me five more months.  I keep telling him if he can just make it to the date of his diagnosis, it will be enough for me.  That’s a lie.  No amount of time will be enough.  Hudson is my baby.  He was the first Dane we ever adopted and he has been a mama’s boy since the moment he arrived.  I don’t know how to exist without him.

Hudson isn’t currently on any chemo.  It’s been over a month since his last IV chemo treatment, and his oral chemo meds haven’t arrived.  He’s been extremely tired lately and has to be tempted off the couch to go outside.  Occasionally, I see flashes of my goofy boy.  He will toss his toys around, or play with the ten pound Min Pin that we are fostering.  He’s not in pain and he’s not ready to go, but I’m beginning to get glimpses of what the end will be like.  I’m not ready.

On my way home from work, I broke down in the car because of the words of a song…

Lord, make me a rainbow
I’ll shine down on my mother
She’ll know I’m safe with you
When she stands under my colors
Oh, life ain’t always what you think it ought to be, no
Ain’t even grey but she buries her baby
The sharp knife of a short life
Well, I’ve had just enough time