(no subject)
It might not have been the best idea to split the xanax bar with Misty. We're going through a really dark time right now and I'm second-guessing our decision to pop the pill because I'm scared shitless of what I'll be like in a few hours when it wears off. As for right now, we're even enjoying this chemical-induced calm as Jenny Mccarthy narrates some silly vh1 Special titled What Hollywood Taught Us about Sex. I guess, I'm freaked out because I feel like we're IGNORING today, but we've both already freaked out and cried a few times, so maybe we're already got the ball rolling on the grieving process.
Simba is still alive and thanks to today's fluid-drainage, hes relatively comfortable resting in a semi-spacious cage at Dr. Harrington's animal hospital... I'm a hollow shell, which gives me a rare lucidity I don't normally move through the world with. I even managed to talk to these people rationally as we went over the grim details about his condition. I love this dog more than most people I've ever met, so its not that I don't still feel those emotions, but as was the case when my Grandpa died last November, I have pretty much cut myself off from reality, which is probably the safest place for me to be right now.
In Clive Barker's novel, Coldheart Canyon, he records his own real-life experience with losing his dog, Charlie, who he was REALLY close to. As I read those chapters in the book, I couldn't hold back the tears, which may be a first for me and I would usually have to put the book down and spend the rest of the day with Simba. His cancer hadn't even presented itself yet, but Simba's age kept me on edge, because I knew boxers just don't tend to live long past their 10th b-day. When Simba finally got sick, Clive Barker's words came back to haunt me in ways so real, I feel like his connection to his dog was a lot like mine. He described how his dog, after becoming ill with a tumor, was still doing the same things he used to, going outside to sit in the sun, pee, whatever...but he moved slow..and there was a vacancy in his eyes...a shadow of his former self..that describes PERFECTLY how I perceived Simba when his heart tumor first became full-fledged back in April. I'm not like Dr. Harrington. I'm NOT an eternal optimist who hangs onto hope, keeps it together and just takes it as it comes. Not a chance, but even I tried it out. We sank ourselves deep into debt with everyone to have this high-risk heart operation performed and when we got the call from our surgeon, telling us everything was cool...that they "got it", I believed it and I thought some small miracle might be possible, that maybe the tumors wouldn't return, but that was just naaive. Doesn't happen that way in this world.
The lowdown is something Misty and I were both in the room for. For this I'm grateful, because breaking this news to Misty myself would have been grueling. Dr. Harrington stepped into the room and spoke to us with more sympathy and clarity than she has ever afforded us before. (its not that shes not NICE, shes just not normally much of a people person) She told us that the BEST CASE SCENARIO we're looking at is Simba responding well to the horomones she'll give him...formulating a blood clot...which would simply delay a rupture bleed that would EVENTUALLY occur maybe next week, maybe a month from now. WHEN IT HAPPENS, his lungs will start to fill with blood, causing him to gradually suffocate..(which isn't fucking happening--as soon as this fluid buildup begins, he'll be promptly put to sleep) .. When dealing with medical professionals concerning Simba's fate, I'm usually not there. I nod my head and make sure to clarify the highlights, but I'm always paranoid I missed something. Within less than 24 hours, I'll know if Simba has to check out now...or if he can stay with us, happy..for even a little longer. Thank God for xanax. I've changed my mind about my initial reluctance. Taking it today was definitely the right thing to do.
Simba is still alive and thanks to today's fluid-drainage, hes relatively comfortable resting in a semi-spacious cage at Dr. Harrington's animal hospital... I'm a hollow shell, which gives me a rare lucidity I don't normally move through the world with. I even managed to talk to these people rationally as we went over the grim details about his condition. I love this dog more than most people I've ever met, so its not that I don't still feel those emotions, but as was the case when my Grandpa died last November, I have pretty much cut myself off from reality, which is probably the safest place for me to be right now.
In Clive Barker's novel, Coldheart Canyon, he records his own real-life experience with losing his dog, Charlie, who he was REALLY close to. As I read those chapters in the book, I couldn't hold back the tears, which may be a first for me and I would usually have to put the book down and spend the rest of the day with Simba. His cancer hadn't even presented itself yet, but Simba's age kept me on edge, because I knew boxers just don't tend to live long past their 10th b-day. When Simba finally got sick, Clive Barker's words came back to haunt me in ways so real, I feel like his connection to his dog was a lot like mine. He described how his dog, after becoming ill with a tumor, was still doing the same things he used to, going outside to sit in the sun, pee, whatever...but he moved slow..and there was a vacancy in his eyes...a shadow of his former self..that describes PERFECTLY how I perceived Simba when his heart tumor first became full-fledged back in April. I'm not like Dr. Harrington. I'm NOT an eternal optimist who hangs onto hope, keeps it together and just takes it as it comes. Not a chance, but even I tried it out. We sank ourselves deep into debt with everyone to have this high-risk heart operation performed and when we got the call from our surgeon, telling us everything was cool...that they "got it", I believed it and I thought some small miracle might be possible, that maybe the tumors wouldn't return, but that was just naaive. Doesn't happen that way in this world.
The lowdown is something Misty and I were both in the room for. For this I'm grateful, because breaking this news to Misty myself would have been grueling. Dr. Harrington stepped into the room and spoke to us with more sympathy and clarity than she has ever afforded us before. (its not that shes not NICE, shes just not normally much of a people person) She told us that the BEST CASE SCENARIO we're looking at is Simba responding well to the horomones she'll give him...formulating a blood clot...which would simply delay a rupture bleed that would EVENTUALLY occur maybe next week, maybe a month from now. WHEN IT HAPPENS, his lungs will start to fill with blood, causing him to gradually suffocate..(which isn't fucking happening--as soon as this fluid buildup begins, he'll be promptly put to sleep) .. When dealing with medical professionals concerning Simba's fate, I'm usually not there. I nod my head and make sure to clarify the highlights, but I'm always paranoid I missed something. Within less than 24 hours, I'll know if Simba has to check out now...or if he can stay with us, happy..for even a little longer. Thank God for xanax. I've changed my mind about my initial reluctance. Taking it today was definitely the right thing to do.