A weird week
Monday, January 30:
Get up at 4 am to get Wyatt to Santa Rosa by 6 am for an MRI. Get really bad news and bring Wyatt home, I am devastated. The crew at home doesn't even get to have breakfast til noon.
Tuesdsay, January 31:
Get up at 4:30 am to get to work by 8 am for a vidcon. Surreal. Also have 1:1 meeting with one of my bosses, he asks how my dog is and I promptly burst into tears. He is kind and offers me a kleenex, a hug and comforting words. I somehow manage to pull my shit together and carry on with the meeting. How professional of me.
Wednesday, February 1:
Stay home with Wyatt. Relish that he is here with me and agonize over the decision I know I will need to make soon.
Thursday, February 2:
Back at work for more meetings. Must have cried at least three times today in front of co-workers. Said I had "problems at home." Left early and got a call as I was driving home from a good friend I work with. He said he understood I was headed home because of a problem with one of my dogs and that his heart went out to me. He said, "go take care of your family." I cried some more.
Friday, February 3 :
Wyatt had a bad night despite good pain meds on board. Stayed home again. I decided that today had to be the day I would let him go. But then I gave him an extra special cocktail of narcotics and he slept soundly. I chickened out feeling like a big loser that I could not do right by my friend.
Saturday, February 4:
Another bad night for Wyatt after the extra special cocktail wore off. Feeling guilty and selfish that I had made him endure another bad bout of pain, I promised him that I would make the pain go away forever today. Gave him more good drugs, spent the day with him wishing he could live forever. Let him go around 8 pm. Hardest thing I've ever done in my life.
Sunday, February 5:
Took Wyatt to be cremated. What a fucked up thing to have to do.
Other random thoughts about the recent past:
Sitting on a conference call the morning after Guinness died hoping nobody would want me to say anything. Wondering why I even dialed in.
Trying to grieve the loss of Guinness and trying to face the impending loss of Wyatt so close together was really hard. Grieving the loss of both of them within a month just plain sucks.
The process of diagnosing Wyatt's cancer was hard too. Constant pain, me always telling him that this next trip to the vet would provide answers so we could help him...the constant progression of worries each worse....the worry of arthritis gave way to the worry of a blown cruciate, which gave way to the reality of untreatable cancer. Never thought I'd be wishing for a fucking blown out knee. Funny how what you once thought would be the worst news in the world turns into something you so wish were the case.
Trying to have professional conversations w/ co-workers etc. while sitting on the floor comforting Wyatt so he would not cry in pain.
Hating that I had to leave him even for one day ever, especially after I learned he was dying. How could I go to work when I knew I only had days left with him?
Coming to terms with the cold reality that after seven years of miraculous living in the face of bad disease that his time was finally coming to an end.
Saying "we have to do it now"
Bless you my dear Earp.