arthritis

you know the seven stages of dealing with death? I have spent a good part of today in anger, and a better part of it trying to figure out why. the home visit vets came yesterday to look at carver-strong, wonderful doctors who treat both carver, e and i with honesty and kindness. I asked them to come after noticing that carver was experiencing a definite lessening of mobility over the past week or so. I thought it was the cold and ice at first, and maybe that was a part of it. but we began to notice that carver held his tail firmly down and close to his body. and then it became clear that he was having a more difficult time getting up from lying down. he becomes more clingy when in pain, crying unless I am sitting next to him on the ground, with my arm around him. I made the appointment on friday for monday. sunday went o.k., but monday morning when we went out for a walk he got outside, sniffed the air, considered the stairs, then turned around to go back in.

the appointment was good, I guess, in that carver looked in some ways better than the vets had expected. I knew by the questions the vets asked at the beginning that they were looking for signs of carver declining, for signs that the cancer has spread to his lungs, etc. But she said his lungs sounded the same as they did 3 months ago, not perfect, but not worse. she felt along his spine, and when you reach a specific area on his lower back it is clear that he is in serious pain. a new drug, gabapentin was prescribed, along with intermittently upping his derramaxx, and continuing to give him a full 3x daily dose of tramadol, which we had upped from 2x daily when he began to exhibit more pain. the vets talked with e and I about judging his pain level, to help keep track of how he is doing, and how to know when he is having more bad days then good. which, of course, leads to the discussion that i have been having in my own mind for months now, about the end. I first contacted these home visit vets over the summer for the purpose of preparing myself for the possibility of carver'seuthanasia, which i want to be done at home. I wanted to have all the information ready so I did not have to figure it all out in a more difficult time. I feel like for months I have been preparing myself for this reality, all the while secretly praying that carver goes on his own, peacefully, so i am not faced with that decision. but basically there is no preparation for such things. I found the wind knocked out of me as I sat in cvs waiting for carver's new prescription to be filled. there is something about the new drug, which stops the brain from registering pain, rather than actually helping the source, that makes me realize we are really moving towards hospicing carver, rather than healing him. I have never had any delusions about him getting better, knowing that the cancer is usually aggressive, and knowing his age, the statistics etc. we went into this, the surgery, as a way of relieving him of his pain and allowing him to live out his last days with as much joy and grace as he could, and we truly have done that, and have been blessed with so much time. but I think the time has lulled me into a strange complacency, just going from day to day, not really holding the whole truth. I think in some ways this was good, for it allowed me the luxury of being with carver as girl and dog. But I do know that the reason i have not posted much in these past months has been a desperate need to not face this, to avoid being in this pain. and after yesterday, after carver's appointment, the pain of it all seems unavoidable.

so, about the anger. I found myself feeling angry that it is arthritis that is going to probably get him, after his having been able to fight off the cancer. this seems just stupid to me somehow, although when I think of it it is probably something to be grateful for, arthritis hopefully being less painful than cancer. I found myself feeling angry towards the vets, for bringing up the discussion of having to make a decision around his death, even though that is why I brought them there, and they did it with compassion, honesty and a directness that made the discussion possible. I felt strangely angry at e, just for being there and being witness to the whole thing, for being invested, a part of things, having an opinion. I fought off the urge to take carver under my arm (impossible) and run off with him, just the two of us. I realized today that on some level carver's death feels very private to me. e is a wonderful mom to carver, and he loves her with such depth and joy. but for many years it was just c and me. i remember holding him in my arms for the first time in vermont. that first night, when I was sleeping on the floor of corey's moms apartment, carver in my arms because he howled if left alone, i whispered into his ear that i was so happy to have him in my life, that i would do the best I could to take care of him, and to give him the best life that I could. he was my constant companion, taking three hour walks to the arboretum, endless summer evenings at the pond. it was through carver that I healed from both my father's death and from a heartbreak that followed a year later. It was through carver that I made some of my dearest friends, and made jp truly my community, my home. I learned how to talk to strangers through carver, and how to expect the best from people. he dragged me out of the house every morning and gave me something to come home to, long before I had found love of my own. he was my love.

I have learned to share that love with others, and to share him. and now I will learn to share his death. when i lost my father, i was the only member of my family to be alone, without a partner. I felt so alone in grief, but in some ways it seemed easier to me, to not have to worry about someone else's feelings. carver and I began this journey just the two of us, and there is a part of me that feels protective of that closeness, but really I know I am just being protective of myself. it is harder to deny his pain, or my own for that matter, when there is someone to witness it. but the mistake I made in my father's death was that by not sharing my grief with others, I was denying their own in a way. isolating myself in my own grief kept me from feeling anyone else's pain. many people mourned the loss of my father, as they will carver, e especially. carver loves her in a grand way, tail loudly thumping when she comes home. he has come to know peace only when all three of us are together. we will face his death together, and together we will mourn. learning to let others in is one of the greatest gifts that having carver has taught me, among so many others.