Coop: a profile
It's been one of those weeks and it's only Monday. I fear for the rest of the week at this rate... I'm scared.
After a long, exhausting and emotional-coaster-of-a weekend we got a call-back from the vet that my dog has a malignant tumor on his leg that is going to cost us a stupid-lot-amount of money to have removed, and even then, the vet says it will come back, because this particular breed of tumor always comes back and scientific data blah-blah and statistics pooh-pooh-pooh and he's a Boxer so "I'm afraid blah-di-blah-di-blah... Blah."
Still, we will have it removed because, duh, what choice do we have? We love him. He's our baby. And when it comes back? We'll just have to have it removed again. And again. Because we just do. At least until the doctor says to stop...
Because you can't just keep removing the same tumor over and over forever, apparently. Something about it having tentacles or something I don't quite understand. But for now? We are told he will be okay. The cells haven't spread and he may have a good year (or so!!!???) of stinky farts and slobbery kisses in him yet. And besides, in that time he might just drop-dead of something totally arbitrary that has nothing to do with Cancer because sometimes shit just happens and that is that. Pets die. Dogs die. Beloved family and best friends die. Usually when you least expect it.
Still, I'm heartbroken. I feel like this tiny little girl with no secret powers to heal or fix or help her pet dragon. Cooper was my first baby and it breaks my heart that this is only the beginning of a journey of expensive surgeries and bandages and cones around his neck so he won't bite at his stitches.
Sometimes shit sucks balls, man. Plain and simple.