Chester's Journey...Nov17

We didn't even get our seven to ten days of false hope. The vet called this evening to tell me that their diagnosis of lymphatic cancer had been confirmed. You get this hope going even while a fear gnaws away deep inside, you know. I'm sure everyone who has ever waited for a horrifying test result for a loved one has gone through this. They say there are several steps that a person goes through when a tragic diagnosis is given. I think we went through pretty much all of them save one in the last 48 hours, from disbelief to rage to bargaining. Twyla swore that if someone or something would save our little man she'd "have their face, symbol and propaganda tattooed on her ass". It's the acceptance part that I'm having a hard time with. I just can't wrap my head around it and make it real, and yet at the same time it is like being in some sort of chemically induced hyper-reality that scrapes against the nerves and blinds the vision.
Dr. Caulfield said that without chemo our little man has maybe three months if he is given steroid treatments. There is utterly no hope and all we can do is make him comfortable. She gave me the name of some people that sometimes subsidize cancer treatment for pets (it seems weird calling him that...I don't really even think of him as a dog). She told me of the liquid supplement he will be put on when he starts losing weight and won't eat. She told me that he won't really be in pain , but how will we know? How do you ask a little guy who has his own language that I am still learning, "Does it hurt? Where does it hurt, little one? Are you thirsty? Are you cold?" How do I explain to him why I can't make it go away like I make the scary dark go away at night. How do I face the years ahead without his goofy smile and clicky claws across the floor. You know, I can tell who is who by their claws clicking. Chester kind of jogs along with his feathery fur floofing with every step. How do I face the day when he can't play with his ball or his puck for hours on end anymore. "Fetch, Mama, play fetch!" When I throw the ball and it lands in a box or under something he is suspicious of, he comes and says "Mum!'. I'll tell him, "show me where it is" and he will unerringly take me to exactly where the ball went, even if it was days ago. There have been a few times that I didn't believe him, thinking how on earth could the ball have gotten in there and he insisted, "it is, it is so in there" and when I've dug far enough, there it is.
When I got off the phone tonight, I sat down on the kitchen floor because it was so hard to stand. Chester immediately came and dumped his ball in my lap while Chloe bounced around like a loony. It was just as hard to see Twyla crumple onto my lap and sob when I told her and Brad what the doc had said.
My sister and niece were pretty emotional when I told them. My brother immediately offered his strong shoulders. He says I am the strongest person he knows. I don't feel strong. I feel completely helpless and stupid.
So I applied to the subsidy program and it says I am supposed to hear back within 72 hours. It has to be soon because there is not much time. It's like this horrible clock ticking down relentlessly. I know we all have a clock that begins ticking down the second life sparks within us but we still hold on and in the end it is so short a time. I told Twyla that no matter what, Chester will wait for us. He will be there with his ball, wagging his whole self when it is our turn to cross over.
When I leave the house for even a few minutes, Chester starts a crying howl deep down in his chest and it rises up until every creature in the house is carrying on in a disharmonic symphony, from the other dogs to the birds to the cats...all yowling with this terrible sense of loss and I'm not even gone. That is the sound that is in my soul today.