hoping against hope

We heard a dog trotting down the hall as we awaited TheDog to join us in the exam room. The door opened and it was her. Looking very happy.

So happy to see my mom and I, she kissed my hand, which she hadn't had the energy to do in a couple days. So happy to go outside to use the doggie facilities. So happy to go home that when she sat in protest as we tried to take her back inside, my heart broke a little.

I'm her mom. I'm supposed to protect her. Supposed to make her feel better. But she's always been the one protecting me, making me feel better. She's my Angel Bear.

Yesterday, after she'd refused to drink anything, I took her back to the vet. They did an ultrasound. And saw a mass. In her stomach.

My sister met me yesterday afternoon to meet with the surgeon, to discuss our options. We decided to go ahead with the surgery. In case they could easily remove the mass.

I sat with her most of the day yesterday, when she wasn't hooked up to the IV to try and make a dent in her dehydration. My mom, sister, brother-in-law and I all returned last night with my sister's dog for a nice long visit.

This morning my mom and I went to visit before the surgery. She looked good. So good I wanted to take her home, to let her have her wish of not going back into that building.

But I knew I'd never forgive myself if they could remove the mass and I didn't let them try.

We waited for news outside the vets office. Praying she would be alright. That things would turn out well. The call came as we were sitting on a bench talking of how strong she is, how stubborn. How many times she's already beat the vets doomsday prognoses for her.

The surgeon was very matter-of-fact, although the tone in her voice gave away the gravity of the news before she said what she needed to tell me. The mass is where it couldn't be removed without a good possibility of serious complications. So they took a biopsy of the mass and her liver, which looked a little abnormal. Then they just closed her back up.

We, of course, stayed to see her when she woke up. She was very groggy. So much worse than a few hours before. And for what? I don't know.

We went back tonight. She hadn't improved much. I felt horrible, my fault that she was worse. Surgery that solved nothing, only made her feel worse.

I can't quite shake the feeling that I hurt her more. Caused her more pain. As we were leaving, I kissed her goodbye, and told her I was sorry. She gave me a few kisses in return, almost as if to say it's alright, she understands. She made me feel better, as she always does.

She's my baby. I am still hoping against hope for a miracle. I can't even imagine what I'll do if one doesn't happen.