Death. Hmmmm. I really think I've experienced enough of that for a while. Seriously God... I'm good. Maybe give someone else a turn. I'm starting to think that people and animals are dying just to get the fuck away from me. My Shyla... my 19 year old girl who STILL looks like a kitten... took a very obvious and serious turn late last night. She's still with us at the moment, but it's clear that I'll need to take her in after the kids are in bed tonight. Being that she IS 19, I'm not going to put her through a bunch of diagnostics... it seems to be her time.
For 19 years, that little girl has either slept in my arms or on my chest. Every night. Fuck.... days too. Anytime I was in bed... either sick, during my pregnancies, or just taking a nap. She's a tiny little cat with a huge, robust purr. The sound of a cat purring has always been one of my absolute favorites.
She's lived QUITE a life. She was born in San Diego & was there a couple years until we moved to Carmel. Then she rode cross country in our Explorer when we headed to Virginia. We were in Sterling for 5 years and then moved one more time to Lovettsville. I don't think she's been downstairs in the 8 1/2 years we've been there... my bedroom has always been her kingdom. :0)
I've always adored all of my animals, but Shyla is extra special. I got her in January of 1992, just after my beloved Gram died. I was heartbroken and needed something happy to focus on. I decided I wanted a kitten, and went on a mad tear to find one. The more I searched, the more I heard 'but it's not kitten season'. WTF? I had never heard such a thing. Anyway. I can tell you with absolute certainty that she was the ONLY kitten in all of San Diego County. We were meant to be together.
This kind of event is one more reason I hate that I have to work. Leaving her this morning nearly ripped my heart from my chest. But I have to go in, so that's that.
I'll keep you posted.
S
Trying to survive and thrive, through the most difficult time in my life.
Welcome!
So here's the Reader's Digest version for those of you who are new to my blog.... My 39 year old husband, David, was diagnosed with a hideous and deadly cancer in April of '08. We were told he'd likely die in less than 4 months. Obviously, that diagnosis turned us inside out and shook us to the core. At the time, our boys were 12 and 4... can you say 'fucking nightmare'??? I spent the next 14 months being his 24/7 caregiver and advocate... never leaving his side unless it was to get the boys to or from therapy or their cancer support groups. Cancer and the hell that it brings became our universe. And yet, I was able to get myself to a place where I was depending on my faith.... existing on a plane of pure gratitude. I focused my energies on recognizing the blessings that cancer had brought to our lives... yes, there ARE blessings that come with such a dire diagnosis.
Things were good. David miraculously entered remission in April of '09. I was looking forward to the next few months being our 'summer of healing' as a family. And then my world stopped. He left me... left US... on 6 June 2009. And FYI... he told me he was ending our 18 year marriage in a note. As if that wasn't bad enough, he had left me for a 'friend' who also happened to be married. Nice. The next few months are a blur... I descended into a deep, dark depression, and David's vicious treatment of me didn't help. He was running as fast as he could from everything associated with cancer, and that included me... our family, our home and the entire life we had built together. Things went from bad to worse when his cancer returned with a vengeance. He began treatment once again, and I had to dig deep to help him and make things as easy on him as possible. I even offered to have him move home so I could care for him through his treatment. As it turns out, it was a good thing he didn't take me up on that. The hateful way that he treated me during that time would have made caregiving for him an unbearable situation. I KNEW he was dying... nobody else did, because he fed them all kinds of bullshit... but I knew. Because of that, I focused on the boys and made sure they were with their daddy as much as possible.
His final months were a living nightmare... a kind of pain and darkness for which there are no words. No human being, no matter who they are or how they lived their lives, should have to suffer the horrific pain and endless indignities that David did. In spite of everything, I was with him constantly, much to the chagrin of his girlfriend and his mother. 'Too fuckin bad' was my theory. I wanted my boys to see that I NEVER turned my back on their dad. And I didn't. I continued to advocate for him in the hospital... fighting to get him the meds and the specialists he needed. I was there during his final moments of consciousness. I took Reilly to say goodbye to his dad, just before he slipped into that state. I was there when he died. I ID'd his body at the funeral home. I planned his funeral and his Celebration of Life. I placed his ashes in the wall of the Columbarium at the Naval Academy. We had spent half of our lives together, and though I was no longer in love with him, I did those things out of respect for the life that we shared and the family that we created.The 6 months since he died have brought more changes. I struggle daily to untangle the financial disaster he left me, and I'm fighting like hell to keep our home. The boys are now 15 and 7 and trying to learn how to move forward in their lives without their daddy. I had to get a part-time job after spending 15 years as a full-time mother, and I'm doing everything I can to trim the fat so we can afford to stay where we are. My boys NEED the stability and comfort that come with remaining in our home and community, and staying in their schools. To that end, I will fight with every fiber of my soul to ensure that those things happen.My greatest blessing is that I now have an incredible man in my life... a man who is thoughtful and loving, strong and sensitive, hilariously funny, and who loves me just the way I am. He is authentic. He knows who he is and is completely comfortable in his own skin. It certainly doesn't hurt that he's 11 years younger than I am and sexy as hell. :0)Yes, my boys are struggling in many ways... the therapy and support groups continue... and I still have MUCHO 'death business' to handle. That said, I am starting to believe that there might be a happy future ahead... for all of us.The past almost 3 years have been quite an emotional roller coaster, to say the least. Writing has been the most important part of my day, every day, since this journey began. I am once again being put in a position where I have to learn to survive... spiritually, emotionally, physically, financially... you get the picture. My hope is that I can hold on to my faith, find a moment of joy in every day, be the best mother I can possibly be, and hopefully... one day... emerge back into the light.December 2010
12 January 2011
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Oh my gosh Shan, I am sooooo sorry to hear about Shyla. Jeeezuz H. Mahoney Christopher! I agree, enough already with the death shite. 19 years!! Your pets obviously know when they have it good. I am praying for that little kitty. When I had my mammogram last year and they "found something", I had to have a biopsy. My mother was freaking out. She tells me she and my Dad will come with me and take me to lunch. I told her "Mom, I'm going to work afterwards." She was a little shocked. She told Mike later, " That damn Toni, she could have cancer and she could care less, but one of those dogs has something wrong with them and we have to peel her off the ceiling!" I have driven home from Redwood Shitty on my lunch hour to check on them. To use your phraseology, I love me some aminals!"
ReplyDeleteIn other news, Finn needs to go to a Culinary Arts School. The two of you could run a hoppin', lip smackin' restaurant. Oh, and can I have a snow day as well? Maybe a couple. Work is driving me nuts.(well, more nuts than usual. Hee.) Maybe Rei needs something part-time in the summer. I think you mentioned the kennel. He'll slop some shit alright. Nothin' like pickin' up some fat, stinky piles of gorilla fingers to keep your perspective.
As far as the "project", I know you are thinking even when your friggin' sleeping, so I know you will do something great with it. And, the work deserves it. "Cancer, The Gift That Keeps On Giving". And I know you won't mind if I use your blog to post my own poetry so I can get some exposure on your dime. TOTALLY YANKIN' YOUR CHAIN WEASEL!!
Love and a kick in your tiny ass, To
Hey Punkin;
ReplyDeleteEverytime you have a great day, 15 shitty days follow.
Poor Shyla....
Last time I visited you, she came out of her hiding place just to give you some lovin'. She seemed so fragile. She wasn't afraid of me that time.
I get the purr medicine. Nothing like having a furball purring while it's sleeping on your neck. The tickle of whiskers on your cheek to wake you up. The sandpaper toungue to tickle your toes. The attacks on the mystery lumps under the covers. OUCH!
Cats are everything we are not.
Love,
Auntie Nut