I know what's coming

Yesterday was a fairly productive day for me. First, I actually got eight hours of sleep. Holy crap what a difference that makes! I did six loads of laundry (whites, darks, baby clothes, bedding, extra blankets and dog bedding), vacuumed, mopped, went to Wal-Mart, the recycling bin, the cleaners, the post office, had lunch with Mom, and got my oil changed. Plus, I played with Rocco and we had a great day of mommy-baby time. 

While I was at lunch our vet called. I had called him earlier that morning because Diamond's tumor has been bleeding. And I know this sounds horribly selfish, but it also makes her breath smell ATROCIOUS! I can't get within ten feet of her without gagging from the stench. But, the bleeding concerns me and, since we can't afford the surgery that might make the situation worse anyway, I wanted to know if there was something we could do to stop the bleeding. When I left the message, I knew that the answer I was going to get was probably not a good one. And it wasn't. As Dr. Brett said, I think it's time we start having a different conversation.

I have cried several times since, feeling selfish and sorrowful, my head telling me what needs to be done and my heart refusing to accept it. This morning it was all I could do to not wail and moan and have a major sob fest while I was putting on my makeup. I'm trying to keep it together, rationalizing the situation to make it easier to deal with. But, I know that when the end draws near, I won't be able to maintain this much control. I can feel it building up inside me and every time I look at her I feel like all of this raw emotion will come bursting out at any moment. She looks tired and sad. And when I think of how Marilyn will feel when her partner in crime is gone, I just want to cry all over again. Do we take her with us to the vet when it's time to let Diamond go? They have terrible separation anxiety as it is, I can't imagine how bad it will be when we don't come home with Diamond. 

If Diamond were a human and we were having this conversation, they would call it murder or assisted suicide and put us in jail. And that pretty much sums up why I feel so conflicted, because I feel like I'm murdering her! Whether she's ready to go or not, whether it's the right thing to do or not - nothing matters because it doesn't change this awful feeling I have inside that I'm murdering one of my furry babies. She's been our biggest baby for 10 years! If you're not an "animal person" I don't expect you to understand. But, for those of us who adopt our fur balls into our lives as part of our family, it is excruciating to lose them. 

So, here I sit, wrestling with what to do and praying for guidance and peace about the situation, afraid to even speak the word "death", but needing to talk about it and feeling like I don't have the words to appropriately describe my grief. I wish there was an easy answer.