As I alluded to, I brought home a puppy last week. The same afternoon the vet confirmed her mass was assuredly cancer, I went straight from sobbing over her in my backyard to going to the closest shelter to look at puppies with a friend. If that chain of events feels illogical, I can assure you that it felt just as strange to me. I feel so, so broken about the short life she’s going to have. The bad days…
I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of “borrowed happiness” lately. When people know something bad is going to happen, like a terminal diagnosis or someone bound to be fired on work, they say they’re on borrowed time. If you can find some joy before pending devastation, is that borrowed too? To borrow is to take with the intention of returning. But I’m not sure if time, or happiness, is something you can ever get back. It’s ours for…
I spent the better part of last week crying over my dog. Like, really crying. The kind of crying that almost sounds like laughing if you don’t know the context. It’s a cruel trick on the body, because your muscles flex the same. When I wasn’t crying, I leaned on friends who were there to catch me. I told her how fabulous of a dog she is, and what her friendship has meant to be. I laid it on real…
My anxiety often leads me towards ridiculous fears. I’m not proud to admit how many times I’ve diagnosed myself with skin cancer or an irregular heartbeat. It’s easy for my brain to create fiction that’s much scarier than truth. But my heart is breaking as I type this, because I was right when it came to Pascale. Yesterday a MRI revealed a mass growing out the base of her skull. It started in the bone, and is growing into her…