I haven’t written since Sheiky died. I should have. I can’t get the picture out of my mind…he came limping back into the exam room, after the vet had inserted a catheter, to make the infusion of the euthanasia drug easier. Sheiky was holding out that leg. To me. Like I could fix it. And instead, I gave the nod to kill him.
Yes, I know the lymphoma killed him. But I gave my assent.
I tried for a few days, and knew that I could not live without a greyhound companion. A month after precious Sheiky died, Kissy (NB’s Kisstheroad) came into our life. She’s wonderful in every way, and I will post her picture and write about her in a day or two.
…is the 5th anniversary of my stem cell transplant. Transplantees call it a “re-birthday”. I have beaten every odd as a transplantee for the particular type of lymphoma I had, yet I can’t shake the belief that I made a mistake having it. I was told I wouldn’t come out of the transplant center alive. I agreed to the transplant over palliative care because I had a stupid, heroic idea that I could be a lab rat, and give Medicine (yes, the upper case is intentional) a breakthrough in the treatment of anaplastic large-cell non-hodgkins lymphoma.
Instead, I just boringly lived.
I want to be happy about that. But I’m not. And then, I am even unhappier that I am an ungrateful bitch because I am not happy.