Preparing Myself For the Probability of Cancer

“You need to start preparing yourself for the probability of cancer.”

One week ago I heard those words in a small, stuffy, spinning veterinarian exam room.

One week ago my stomach lurched into my throat–and hasn’t budged since.

One week ago I started crying at the drop of a  hat.

One week ago I started giving my dog Cipro twice a day–just in case she has a rare liver infection that is causing the swollen lymph nodes I felt under her chin while I was routinely petting her one evening.

One week ago I started googling lymphoma in dogs.

One week ago I learned that there is no cure for canine lymphoma. Untreated, a dog may live sixty days. Treated with chemotherapy, she has good odds to live twelve to fourteen months, but has only a twenty percent chance of living two years.

One week ago I wondered why the hell I made a vet appointment on a Tuesday? I hate Tuesdays. Bad news happens on Tuesdays. Cancer diagnoses happen on Tuesdays.

One week ago I sat alone in my bedroom eating leftover Christmas candy, piece after chocolatey piece, consciously throwing my “No-Sugar January” out the window. I wanted to numb the pain. I wanted to forget the world. I wanted to feel anything other than what I was feeling.

One week ago I felt the same feelings I’d had when I learned my aunt and my mom were both diagnosed with cancer.

One week ago I started preparing myself for the probability that my sweet little furry baby has cancer.

It’s been a hell of a week.

I haven’t drank. Though I’ve wanted to. If I’d had booze in the house instead of chocolate, who knows what would’ve happened. They were the same feelings when I saw the chocolate in the pantry, as I’d had when I gave into past drinking temptations. Same-exact-”fuck-it, kill the pain” feelings.

Next steps are a biopsy on Friday to confirm diagnosis. Antibiotics haven’t reduced any nodes’ swelling. I’m hopeful for a miracle, but not expectant. Decisions will need to be made; my gut says, “fight it, fight it!”, but I know there are many factors to weigh. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. Today, I am still preparing myself.

I’ve been wondering where to take this blog–do I focus on sobriety? On quotes? On running? On new recipes I’m trying? Do I even continue blogging this year? I really wanted to be done writing about cancer and grief and fear and learning to live again. But we don’t always get what we want, do we?

I guess I’ll answer those questions too when it’s time.

Today though I am still preparing. God, how do you ever fucking get used to cancer??? Sometimes life isn’t very fair.

But I won’t live in denial. Not anymore. I’ll make it through today without drinking, and hopefully I’ll make it through tomorrow too.

I doubt I’ll be writing much, at least not on a regular schedule. I’m going to try to maximize as much time as I can with my little girl. To my fellow blogging friends, thank you for your posts–I read them via email and enjoy your words with my morning coffee.

I have a cute little dog looking at me with expectant eyes waiting for her afternoon walk. So I guess I’ll go for a walk and love on my girl and soak up every smile and tail wag and funny expression and happy moment that I can.

Cancer has taken so much from me. I’ll be damned if I let it take away today.

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86 Responses to Preparing Myself For the Probability of Cancer

  1. C,
    Oh what a moving post. We put our lab down with cancer just a year ago. Worst day of my life. He went running with me that morning, (carrying his tennis ball in his mouth, til it got too slobbery to hold) I just found the tennis ball (last Tuesday) in a paper cup in the cupboard. I cried. I put it back in the cup and closed the cupboard door. If I could say anything it would be this: You can stay sober and deal with this. You are an incredible woman. You give so much. You make my world,my sobriety richer. Life is not fair.
    All my love, Lisa

    • You are so sweet Lisa, thank you. My heart breaks that you had to put your lab down–I’m sure the pain is still raw. And you found the tennis ball on the same day I went to the vet….. awwwww…. You are right. I can stay sober and in the moment to work through this. And I will. It’s just so damn hard sometimes. I’m glad I have you in my life—thank you for everything. All my love returned, Christy

  2. I am so sorry. I’ve been where you are, and it’s a horrible pain. I really hope the biopsy comes back with another diagnosis. Please let us know!

    • Thank you so much for your thoughts Shelly. I’m sorry that you’ve been there too, it’s so gut-wrenchingly painful. I haven’t given up hope yet about the biopsy, I am still full of insatiable hope. I will certainly let everyone know the outcome. Thanks again, Christy

  3. The past few weeks have been heavy for me as February 2nd marks the one year anniversary of the day we had to let our cat Oz go. He was diagnosed with feline lymphoma around February 2011. We decided to put him on the best chemo program option as it was felt we caught it early and given his nature, he was a perfect candidate as we had to transport him to the vets every week for treatment. Oz did very well on chemo and did not suffer any setbacks in terms of quality of life. His lymph node swelling decreased, and we just continued on the protocol. In August/Sept 2011, the protocol ended and it then began a waiting game to see if a long remission would set in. Unfortunately, Oz started showing signs of sickness in December 2011 just after Christmas. This time it was back with a vengeance. We spent much of January 2012, syringe feeing him, and saying our last goodbyes. He was a trooper through whole process.

    Do I regret my decisions of chemo? No, I do not. Yes, it was expensive and I had to make some big budget cuts, but I had an extra year with my little buddy. No amount of money can replace.

    I tell you my story as I want you to know, I am here and know exactly what you are going through at this moment. If you do have to make some decisions and want to bounce them off me, please email me at urbanrunninggirl@gmail.com

    Just know you are not alone.

    • Thank you SO MUCH for this. I will definitely email you, thank you.
      I am so sorry about Oz (what an awesome name!). I’m so glad you had the extra time with your baby though–time truly is priceless. We had to put my girlie kitty down last March when she went into sudden kidney failure. I don’t know what’s worse–the sudden and quick, or the longer process of disease. I’m grateful for the possibility of more time. I know there will be many decisions to make around quality of life / length of expectancy treated versus untreated / even cost and the stress of treatment, if the expectancy isn’t much different. I really hate the prospect of such considerations, so I appreciate you reaching out to answer questions and bounce ideas with.
      I’m truly touched by your kindness, thank you. Christy

  4. It looks like I’m not the only one needing positive thoughts this week. I’m so, so sorry. We will BOTH get through this. Like you just told me, cherish every single moment. She is a lucky doggie to have a mama like you. Selfishly, I hope you stay with us in the blogging world. But please, do whatever you need to do. And if you ever want to talk/vent more privately, please feel free to email me. pasqua74@students.rowan.edu

    Nothing but positiveness is being sent YOUR way. <3

    • Hugs Nicole, thank you so much. She really is a lucky and very spoiled puppy. I’m not sure if she can be any more spoiled, but I intend to try! :)

      And yes ma’am, we will get through our tough times. Thank goodness for chocolate, running and friends.

      Thanks also for the email address. I’ll drop you a note to say hi.

  5. I’m here, listening and hoping and even praying (doubts of a higher power, be damned)–you’re right, drinking and letting cancer take today is NOT what you’re going to do. Big hugs from the universe (or, my small piece)…

  6. Christy, I am so sorry about this. I have lost many furry friends over the years, and a few of them have been taken by cancer. My husband had cancer in 2011, and my mom is undergoing treatment for cancer now. I know how awful it is and how much you’d do anything you numb the pain. But I can’t tell you how much I admire you for not having a drink. I don’t know if I’d be as strong under the circumstances. You are a tough broad and I’m so proud of you. And I wish this wasn’t happening, it sucks and it’s colossally unfair. But do what you need to do, whatever feels right–if it’s not blogging, or blogging about something different, or whatever, it’s all okay. You take care of yourself and your little girl, okay? Sending you huge hugs.

    • I echo your comment.. well said Ms.Weebles..

    • Can I trade in my air-conditioned pillow from Christmas for a cure for cancer? Sigh…

      You always know exactly what to say, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

      I’m sorry about your mom, I continue to send positive healing energy her way.

      As far as blogging, I have days when I have no idea what to say or write, but I really can’t imagine going anywhere. If I keep stress eating instead of drinking, this may become a “Comfort Food Recipe” blog, haha. I made a mean Cheeseburger Casserole recipe the other day–the Bisquick layer was an inch and a half thick on it. So good. Gotta work on a Cheetos recipe for ya.

      Thanks for your caring message, it really means a lot to me. Huge hugs back… C

  7. Oh, wow, I hate this! And your girl is a dead ringer for my Charles Wallace, except his spots are red and hers are dark. I’m sending good vibes your way. Also, consider continuing the blog. They say when we most don’t want to talk is exactly when we really need to. Sometimes, putting it out there on a blog helps.

    • Oh that is too cool that our pups are so similarly marked. I’m still not sure what my Spot is a mix of, German Shorthair Pointer and more is my guess. I actually just did a doggie DNA test on her, so it will be fun to get the results. (Another thing I can write about.)

      I do tend to isolate and withdraw during stress, like a little turtle. You’re right though–while this was a bitch of a post to write, it was cathartic and I felt better when it was done. The responses and comment dialogue help too. I just was so ready to move on from writing about grief and all that stuff from after my mom, you know? Maybe I was just ready to move on from grief itself. Life on life’s terms…. Sucks sometimes.

      Thanks for the comment, and thanks for helping me verbalize some of my feelings. I appreciate you.

  8. all I can do is send love…
    i wish I could do more, but know I will be holding you close and hoping for the best possible outcome.
    You know the truth…the drink won’t change anything. Neither will the chocolate, but it won’t kill you too….

    sending strength, encouragement and love…
    fuck cancer.

    • Between the chocolate or the drink, chocolate is by far the better choice, true! At least I can run that off. Past few days have been full of calming herbal tea, but I do still have a handful of Reese’s cups for emergency use only.

      Thanks for the love and thoughts Michele, I’ll take them all gratefully.

      Cancer is really getting on my last nerve. Fuck cancer.

      All my love… C

  9. Oh no. I am so very sorry.
    Hugs. There’s really nothing more to say.
    Life sucks so bad sometimes.
    Cancer always sucks.
    Praying for a positive diagnosis.
    Renee

  10. So sorry to hear this. Good for you for not drinking. I would be eating chocolate also I think. Sending healing thoughts.

    • Hi Ellen, it’s so nice to hear from you! You’ve been in my thoughts too after your surgery. I was happy to read you’re on the mend.

      I’m really really glad I didn’t drink either. I know it won’t fix anything and only cause major regrets afterward. The chocolate though… Oh my gosh it was soooo good. :)

      Thanks for thinking of me Ellen, continue to rest and heal up my friend. -Christy

  11. Losing a loved one, whether it’s a parent or a sibling or a pet, to cancer is excruciating. So sorry to hear about this.

  12. I am sorry to hear about this. I haven’t had the experience of losing a fluffy one or a loved one to cancer or any other illness (yet). But I do know the feeling of loss in other regards.

    The two things that popped up in your touching post were the case of the “fuck-its” with the chocolate and the other about the direction of your blog.

    It’s amazing, that almost instinctual thing we have about reaching for something when pain strikes us. Being so used to having alcohol as a coping mechanism, I had a tough go of it when I got sober to get through those moments where I needed self-medicating, and my boozy soother was no longer on the menu. Needless to say, finding solace in sugar was the answer, so I understand your reaching for chocolate! So that struck a chord.

    And as far as the blog – I am new to this, and new to this and some of the other wonderful recovery blogs I have connected to. So perhaps I can give a perspective from newbie eyes (for what it’s worth). I think that when we get into recovery, it’s such an intimate, passionate, deep and immediate thing. It’s an in-your-face, all out thing. I marinated in it. But as life starts to come together, the grip on the life preserver isn’t so tight and things start to come back or introduced into our lives. The blogs I have seen reflect this sort of normalcy returning to our once shattered lives. We grow, stretch and branch out. Things that never interested us now interest us. Old and new passions get ignited and we learn to live life again. I know I will get to that point too. I am curious as to how this will unfold for you – it must be organic and come from a place of authenticity. Where else would it come from? Wonderful journey to see.

    Great post – thanks for sharing :)

    Paul

    • Hi Paul, thanks for the thoughtful reply, I appreciate it. I hope cancer (or any other illness) never crosses your doorstep. It’s as ruthless and destructive as alcohol addiction, tearing up and affecting everything and everyone it comes in contact with.

      I used alcohol to self-medicate when my mom and aunt were both fighting cancer; I think my reliance on it ultimately strengthened my addiction and flipped that switch from “cucumber to pickle” so to say. I think having those same painful feelings and memories no doubt triggered the same reflex/craving to numb and escape. My eyes just happened to land on the hidden candy bag, and in a split second I was digging in. (I had given up extra sugar for January, as a few of us have.)

      I hadn’t thought about the “fuck-its” with the blog direction, but I can see why you mentioned it, interesting… I started feeling less inspired to write, right around the same time I cut out sugar, so I just associated the two together and assumed my mojo would come back. January has been one big blah of a month–and I was so excited about ’13 starting–even writing about “insatiable hope”. Funny how life just happens along, regardless how we hope or feel about it. I do love blogging though and I love the people I’ve met through the process, I’m not throwing in the towel just yet. I just need to find that balance of virtual versus tangible. Balance has always been a challenge of mine. ;)

      (Edited to add: re-reading your comment, I see that I read it wrong. You didn’t lump chocolate and the blog into one “f-it” group as I initially read it, rather they were two separate topics that stood out to you. Gotcha! I’ll leave the above as it is though, because it’s still fitting. Sorry I got confused.)

      I agree with your “newbie” perspective about our lives branching out and stretching and about other things gaining importance or emphasis. I wrote about it several months ago in a “Two-Ten Year Itch” post HERE. Oddly enough, I’m coming up on 21 months. Maybe I’m starting to feel some of that branch-out “itch”.

      Thanks again for the thoughtful comment, I look forward to following your blog!
      ~ Christy

  13. So sorry to hear of your dog’s illness. I sincerely hope things work out okay. Cancer is a horrible disease, human or canine.

  14. Beautiful dog! I will be keeping you and her in my thoughts and prayers!

  15. I’m really sorry for your post today. The pain I felt losing my dog literally took my breath-I suffered from anxiety attacks afterwards, where I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs. Drinking was not an option for me at that time-I was pregnant. That was a blessing in more than one way for sure. I wish I had more positivity to share. But you are so wise. And your dog knows that too. I wouldn’t sweat the no sugar january rule you put in place for january. This is a rule to be broken now. The picture of your sweet dog is beautiful-what great markings, and a lovely relaxed smile!
    Love and light to you both!

    • What a sweet message N, thank you. Anxiety… Yes, that’s the feeling that’s hanging over me, that stomach in the throat feeling. Like storm clouds perched right over my head. And for you to have to go through that loss while pregnant… I’m so sorry.

      As far as the no sugar January, hey I made it 3 weeks! Sometimes you just have to eat the sugar.

      Thanks so much for thinking about me, and for the gracious love and light, I appreciate it- and you- very much. Hugs, Christy

  16. I am so sorry… Sending hugs and love

  17. Your dog makes me smile. Sorry about the news. I’m thinking and praying for you Christy, and your very cute spotty dog. Cancer is an evil word. I hate it. Bad times do make you dig deep to find the good (although I never appreciate doing that when its my turn). I’m glad you determined to enjoy today. EAch day is a gift from God. Enjoy each moment as much as you can.

    • Thank you Char! Spot makes me smile too–she has the cutest little Buddha belly and she gets the most unique facial expressions. Her eyes often look like she’s busy solving world problems. And she gives the best hugs–putting her front feet up on your chair (or kneeling knees) and leaning into you so you can wrap your arms around her. She’s absolutely priceless.

      And you’re right, each day is a gift. That’s the unfortunate silver lining here–it’s really making me mindful and appreciative of each moment.

      Thank you do much for your sweet comment, Char.

  18. Madame Weebles said exactly how I feel.. Please, most of all take care of you and yours.. Know you have this big circle of caring people sending lots of positive energy and love to you and your sweet doggie.. you are not alone.
    *hugs*
    Lynne

    • Awww thanks Lynne, big hugs back!

      I just wrote to Char that the silver lining is being mindful and appreciative of each moment I have with Spotsie, but the other silver lining is having so many wonderful people thinking of us and sending love our way. It is comforting to know I’m not alone and that I don’t have to shoulder all this pain by myself. It means so much to me; thank you so much Lynne.

  19. Christy, you will be in my thoughts and prayers in the coming weeks. I am so sorry that you are having to go through all this, but I applaud you for taking it out on chocolate instead of alcohol. Do what you need to do with the blog, but be there for yourself first and foremost. We’ll be here when you return. xxoo

  20. Feel the love, lean on your dear ones, take good care of yourself and enjoy these final days with your puppy

  21. Please know that you’re in my thoughts beautiful sister… my heart if you need it, is sitting right along side you whenever you need a squeeze. Today is really all we have. Tomorrow is a myth and yesterday is the memory that warms our soul. Enjoy this moment, quench the flavour of ‘NOW’ and know that your next breathe reminds you that all is well because you are here in this moment. much love Adriana

    • I am choosing to be here, right now, in this moment… It is all I have. You are so wise A, thank you. Your message and thoughts wash over me, and the feeling of loving calm remains.

      All my love to you, sweet sister… Christy

  22. I’m so sorry to read this, Christy. This sucks. I’m proud of you for choosing not to numb through drinking. How strong you are, how brave. I’m sorry you have to be tested like this, though.

    Enjoy every moment that you have with your dog. Make good memories! And you be as well as you can.

    Peace –
    Celeste

    • You’re so sweet, but I don’t know how strong or brave I am. I just don’t really have any other options. Not any good ones anyway. ;)

      Thank you for thinking of me, Celeste. I’m doing my best to enjoy every moment. Lots of love…xoxo

      • Personally, my definition of “strong” and “brave” means surviving even when there are no other options. That’s just it: where the rubber meets the road, and you are DOING it, so kudos to you. And yes, that rubber-met-road is often covered with tears, but no one ever said that being strong and being brave also meant that you cannot cry or scream or be angry or any other feeling.

        Much love back to you, and I am glad you have a community of supporters here.

        I truly hope we never have that super X solar flare that will wipe out all electronics, because the only way I stay sane, brave, and strong is with my online community. Hands down it is the best for keeping one’s head on straight.

        xoxo
        Celeste (whoops, almost typed my “real name,” lol!! I do that a lot after commenting in a very sincere way, lol.)

        • Thank you Celeste, that really means a lot to me. I know what you mean about our on-line community, and I’m so thankful for it.

          You’re a Martin fan too, right? You made me think of this quote from Game of Thrones:

          “Bran thought about it. ‘Can a man still be brave if he’s afraid?’
          ‘That is the only time a man can be brave,’ his father told him.”

          ― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

          So maybe I *am* being a tiny bit brave. ;)

          -Christina (my real name)

  23. i know that hugs and good wishes aren’t enough, but i’ll send them anyway. i think it makes sense that you don’t feel like blogging now – and why would you? except perhaps when you need to reach out to know that we’re all here for you. some of us have good ideas, insights, genius. and some of us can just send hugs (i’m in this latter category!). i think that hugs can be felt online, and i’m sure you agree. ~Belle

    • I 100% agree that love and hugs can be felt online. It’s like little warm fuzzies inside your heart knowing that someone is thinking of you and giving of their time to send hugs and energy. It gives me a little something extra to hold on to when the pain hits, and I appreciate it all so very much.

      Thank you dear Belle for your support, time and hugs. I think you’re pretty awesome. :)

  24. This is such a sweet and heartbreaking post. What a beautiful girl you have. I will keep you both in my thoughts. I’m glad you wrote about this. Much love to you.

    • Thanks bbb, it took some time to wrap my mind around everything. It’s all still very fragmented, much like my post. But I’m glad I wrote about it. Kind of like how you were glad you made that phone call (I can’t get over how beautiful and touching your Audrey tribute is.)

      Spot is the sweetest thing, she has such a cool personality, and she’s so young. I really thought I’d have another 7-10 years with her. I guess that’s a universal truth–facing the end, we always think (hope) we’d have more time.

      Thank you so much for your thoughts. xoxo, C

  25. I have no words except to say…I am so fucking sorry.

    Sherry

    • Thank you Sherry. Yeah, that about sums it up, my friend.

      It’s like life is saying, “Here. Here’s another sucky thing that you don’t have to drink over.” Geez, sometimes I wonder what I did in my past life to have to learn so many cancer-centric lessons of loss in this one. Sigh. Best to learn them so I don’t have to repeat them.

      I appreciate you thinking of me. Love, C

  26. You write whatever you need to write, whenever, if ever. Every bit is a part of the same compilation. Do what drives you when you need energy, and do what allows you respite when you need peace. All your readers aren’t going anywhere ;)

  27. You’re so right! Cancer rips so much away from us, don’t let it steal your sobriety! Sending you hugs and positive thoughts.

  28. Pleasant Street

    Lost my 12 year old dog to cancer a few years ago. It was sudden and I remember the vet’s office like it was yesterday. My sweet boy. I miss him. He was my son’s dog when they were both young but over time he and I were together more and more until we became best buds. I miss him. Funny, he loved pasta. I’d make it as a special treat. Pasta, makes me smile just thinking about him wolfing down the stuff. I keep his ashes in a special box next to my drafting table in the workshop. It just so happens that’s where he liked to snooze in the yard before the workshop was built. I miss him. Life goes on and it gets better… but I do still miss him.
    Hoping the best for you. It is a tough time but I know you’ll stay on target. We are in your corner.

    • I am so sorry for your loss, it never gets any easier does it? Just different.

      I love the story of your workshop going up right where he loved to rest, and there he remains, resting by your side while you work. Makes me tear up with happy tears.

      I also love the idea of pasta! I was just thinking about making a special dinner for Spot tonight before her biopsy tomorrow. Maybe I’ll make up a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs and cheese for her (minus the red sauce). Your message was timed perfectly and received gratefully.

      Thank you for sharing the story of your sweet boy with us, and thank you for your warm thoughts.

      Love, Christy

  29. I’m so sorry to hear this. Like your other readers I know the pain of losing pets all too well. I hope her biopsy goes well. I’m sure she’d love a special meal. :) I hope you get the chance to go out for a run as I think it would help to get some of your stress out. x

    • Hi Eve, thanks for your thoughts. I’m sorry you’ve been through this pain too. I know that’s part of the deal–we get so much love and happiness from our furry kids, we just don’t get it for long enough…

      Thank goodness for running. After an on again/off again December of running, I did start a structured training plan two weeks ago designed to improve my half marathon time. I got 5 miles in earlier, and loved cranking the music and tuning out for a while. It’s been a huge stress reliever, and while not as fun as eating chocolate, it’s a close second. :)

      Thank you again for thinking about me.
      xx, Christy

  30. I’m so so sorry for you.

  31. It was really hard reading your post, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without my dogs. We have four, and 3 of them are considered seniors… My boyfriend attributes a lot of his sobriety to Simba, our Golden Retriever, who i think gave him a reason to get up in the morning when he first got sober, and who continues to bring so much joy to our lives. They all do in their own special ways. When my bf first got sober, he lost almost all of his friends, who didn’t understand who some one can stop drinking after all of the nights together doing it. Having an animal is like having a best friend, and they become part of the family, and some times, your reason for pushing through. I really wish you the best, and hope that there is a chance that Cipro makes it through… Stay strong.

    • Thank you so much Sarah. They really do become parts of our family, don’t they? And dogs can teach us humans so much about happiness, forgiveness, and unconditional love.

      I’m sorry it was tough to read, it was tough to write too. I’m usually much more optimistic and inspirational, sometimes life is just plain hard though and all we can do is put our heads down and muddle through. Having friends and support makes it easier though, and I so appreciate your comment and support. Hugs to you! C

  32. Pingback: A Poem For Christy « "R"HubBlog

  33. Hey friend, oh what a(nother) challenge for you. What sad news. And what a beautiful beautiful girl she is! Pets give so much, and in completely loving them we open ourselves to the pain of the loss. You are strong – fuck, you ran 27 miles, woman! – and you will get through this. But i know it won’t be easy. Be kind to yourself and know you are in my thoughts xoxo

    • Hey Imo :) driving to the vet now, and your comment put a big smile on my face– thank you!!

      26, 27, I stopped counting after 3. Lol lol. Me and my monkey pants love and appreciate you! xx

      Sent from my iPhone

  34. ps or was it 26 miles? Either way, it was a. very. long. way!

    Lots of love to you today. x

  35. How are you today? You have been in my thoughts for days. How is your beautiful baby feeling. And how are YOU feeling? How was the vet visit? Of course, only if you feel like sharing…

    Thinking of you and sending big hugs!!!
    XO

    • It’s been a long day of waiting for the phone to ring! Dropped her off early this morning, and now on the way to pick her up. According to the tech on the phone, she did well during surgery (thankfully) and was sitting up, but that’s all I know at the moment.

      Hopefully she won’t have to wear a cone on her head–I think they were removing tissue from her neck, so I doubt it.

      I’ll post a short update with tomorrow’s Words post (put it together while I waited today). Thank you so much for asking!! xoxo

  36. I’m so sad to read about your news but WoW!! Look at all the love and good energy being sent to you!! That means that you have touched many people by being so Strong and Brave and open with how you share your life and thoughts with us. I’m very glad that you chose chocolate over alcohol (there’s the strong part). I’m always so impressed by your openness (There’s the brave part). As has been said already, it sounds like your puppy is in good hands and with God’s grace, so are you.
    Thinking good thoughts for you.
    ~Elle

    • As always Elle, I am touched by your kindness. Thank you so much for your beautiful message. Strong and brave, huh? You guys almost have me believing it. :)

      This little blog has sure been a saving grace for me many times in the past year. I’ve stumbled upon a community and readership that is both bewildering and wonderful–one which helps me when I’m in need, allows me (to at least try) to help others along the way, and blesses me by introducing some really amazing people to my life.

      Again, thank you for your thoughts! I think of you often, and I hope your daughter continues to do well on her path.
      ~Christy

  37. I’m sorry to hear of your furry baby’s illness.. It;s so hard when out animal friends are struck with an illness we never maybe even considered woud be a possibility – someone I love had a recurrance of throat cancer and surgery today..sending good thoughts your way,.. and hope and a little prayer..
    ♥ Lizzie

    • Hi there Lizzie! I really appreciate your sweet comment, that’s very nice of you to stop by.

      Man, I’m sorry about your loved one. I hope the surgery went ok today. Cancer is an evil word, as Char said above, but recurrent, when used with cancer, is possibly the vilest word possible.

      I’ll send some love and good thoughts your way too. Hugs!
      <3 Christy

  38. What a heartfelt post. I can feel your pain through your words and your strength shines through as you battle with that temptation of a drink. What a painful time you are having. Sending love and prayers :)

    • And already you are helping to heal my hurt. :) Thank you so much, Carolyn. I’m fortunate that I’ve not felt the temptation or craving for a drink since that day, but I think I’m going to keep some extra chocolate and peanut butter cups around the house just in case. I should probably put some in my purse too.

      I really really appreciate your positive thoughts, thank you! ~ Christy

  39. Wishing you only good news, and wishing you and your best buddy peace and joy together, no matter how long that might be. As the “mommy” of two beloved mutts, my heart is with you.

    • Hi Karen, thank you for the kind thoughts. I had to smile at mutt “mommy” because I just re-read your “About” page in which you were missing your “mommy” title. Isn’t it wonderful no matter how old we are, we’ll always be “mommy” to our puppies.

      Though, you’ll always be “mommy” to your two-legged children too–even if they don’t call you by that name, they will always think it, as I still do about mine.

      Thank you again for your thoughts, Christy

  40. Oh I love her. She’s a beauty and look at that smile. OMG, I have gone through this too many times. I’m joining in in her sending out doggie prayers, or good thoughts, or keeping digits crossed energy to hop you have many many long wonderful times together. Thanks for linking me up to her and getting to know you better. Big hugs and rubbies to mom and fury daughter.

  41. Pingback: Scattered, Smothered and Covered (My blog’s theme?) | Running On Sober

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