I wrote this big, long entry and lost it some how. No matter. I can try it all over again.
Last night I was on edge. I did not think I would ever be able to close my eyes, turn off my brain, and go to sleep. Lucky for me, I live with The Man, and some times we drink. Rum. Captain and coke. It tastes sweet and makes me feel like a pirate. My friend Mr. Morgan did the trick. We watched a few classic feel good movies (The Princess Bride & Goonies) and sipped our worries away. Yes, we still have to deal with the impending doom, but atleast I got a decent night’s sleep.
This morning we got up early, 6 am. I did not trust the kids to separate the boys for breakfast. I assumed their well meaning hearts would drive them to load Toothless up with treats. We were under orders to bring her in with an empty belly. Doctor’s orders. Still some how it seems her wrong that if today is the day, we can’t give her one last meal. One more time to lick the gravy off of the chunky meat and snub the rest once the good part is gone.
We dropped her off at 8 am. A beautiful tortoise shell named Izzy rubbed against my feet the instant we walked in the door. A gentle gesture that really helped me through those final crucial moments. We signed some papers, said our goodbyes, and ran out the door before the tears came.
Will we see you again?
We are prepared if this is the end. We have the crematorium on stand by. We have the urn picked out. We have a ceremony picked out and ready to impliment to honor her. Memories of her life flash before my eyes.
They will call when the surgery is over. She will not be able to come home for a few days if this is successful. The wait for the phone to ring is agonizing.