It was a frightening email.
I haven’t gone on a vacation for 2 years in part due to my fear Freya would finally lose her battle with cancer and I wouldn’t be there.
However, in mid-August, I convinced myself this wouldn’t happen, that I could go away and everything would be fine.
But that email said she had to be taken to the vet. For good reasons.
It’s hard to describe that feeling you get when you hear news like this. When I was told Margot had cancer, it was such a shock, I don’t think I breathed for a minute, my stomach knotted up and my whole body was seized with, well, the best way I can describe it is take the worst tired, fatigue you’ve ever felt over you entire body and triple it. It’s not like needle-pain, it’s like an agonizing exhaustion.
That’s how I felt when I read it. The email went on to say the vet had a strategy and that Freya was still happy and full of energy, so it wasn’t fatal, but it just brought out all sorts of feelings.
I keep telling myself (and others) that Freya’s been sick for a long time and that I think I’ll be ok with her passing. I mean, I’m not sure I could have survived losing my wife and my dog in the same year but Freya held on, took her meds, continued to wag her tail and scarf down food, and while she never got better, she didn’t get massively worse.
But the truth is, losing her will be hard.
Thankfully, she’s in good hands right now. Great hands, actually. She’s getting a lot of love, food and attention.
But I didn’t get much sleep. Try as I might, there is a great fear I won’t be there if she has to move on. If she really starts to go downhill, I’m going to have to cancel my trip and head back.
Sure it’ll cost a ton of money but there’s no way I could chose to vacation over being with my little girlie in her last moments.
Easy choice, really.