Brogan has cancer.
Suddenly he's delicate to me. Looking at him feels like it might break him. I'm cautious, and full of sadness. He's oblivious. He's lucky, and incredibly unlucky. I could ask 'why?' for the rest of eternity.
I'm terrified but optimistic, and most likely extremely naive.
He can't get a break. He's only four. It's not fair.
You have my most profound sympathies, Kaetlyn. My favourite dog was four and a half when she developed a tumour in her throat, for which, ultimately, there was no solution. For three months I found it difficult to function, but I remained optimistic until the very last morning. And maybe that even made it worse, since optimism somehow increases the fear.
ReplyDeleteI hope for a better outcome in your case, but if it proves not to be, I can only suggest taking a philosophical view. A good short life is better than a bad long one. That's what helped me at the time. Here's hoping.