I'm veering between apathy, despair and a teenage sort of a sulk. Herbie has been refusing his CV247 the last couple of weeks, so I've been resorting to trying to squirt it down his throat, which doesn't work and he spits it all up and... I've given up trying. Disguising it with a little curry powder in his favourite scrambled eggs doesn't work, he can detect it in sardines, he's doing everything he can to tell me he doesn't want any more. This weekend I finally listened. And cracked, and gave him biscuits, after he's spent 18 months on a carb-free diet.
Two years ago, I would have wrestled demons at the gates of hell to save him. Now, I can't even stop myself giving him a dog-biscuit. What is wrong with me? I think I may have finally accepted that I can't change the outcome, and I've given up. Last year, I echoed Edna St.Vincent Millay: "I know. But I do not accept. And I am not resigned." Now, I've reached: "Whatever..."
So tired. CV247 was supposed to save him, but I promised him after the last chemo I wouldn't do anything invasive. Holding him by his sore neck to syringe bitter liquid down his throat is invasive. I had to admit that to myself. So, really no more treatment. Painkillers when he needs them, that's all. And strangely enough, he's been bouncing about like a wallaby ever since.
4 comments:
{{{{{You}}}}}
{{{{{Herbie}}}}
Two years ago was two years ago. You are doing what feels right--for him, for you, right now.
He has fought, you have fought, but your instinct to let things go--for today--to let him eat a biscuit and to stop the meds--is likely in tune with his needs.
We have all been to this place. The saddest place I can think of. If there's any comfort in knowing others can feel this agonizing spot at all, please know that we do--and that at least my heart is breaking for you.
Many many hugs from California.
I am sending you love and hugs from across the pond. Stay strong and give him a kiss for me.
Herbie is wonderful, precious and very brave but when I see him like that in his photograph he doesn't look as if his quality of life is very good right now. I think you are kind to give him the biscuits and not to force medicine down his throat. It's not giving up on him but it is accepting that there has to be some quality to his life and he deserves that. I'm thinking of you both, praying for you, and hoping things can suddenly get better once more. Love your precious "little" one from me.
As hard as it may feel, it really is wonderful that you are meeting Herbie where he is right now. And it sounds like he is happy judging by the wallaby impersonation he's been doing. You never know, he may bounds back from this in his super-dog way.
My heart goes out to you. Hugs to you, Herbie and Hollie.
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