58. Milo

We got some bad news today about our beloved Milo: a tumor, 4 centimeters, in his lung. We may get a biopsy, simply to confirm that it's cancer. But we won't do chemo. He just turned 15—he's well over a hundred in medium-large dog years. We know he's going to die. 

Right now the symptoms aren't bad, an occasional coughing and ack-ing. Which is why we went to the vet. The doctor recommended an x-ray, just to find out what if anything was going on. The bill for the visit was $560. We wanted to feel like we'd wasted that money, with a good (it's nothing!) diagnosis. But now we know that it is something, not nothing. 

Still. He's fifteen. He's had a good long happy life. As have we, alongside him. And we'll continue to do so until he can't anymore. 

I just hope he doesn't start suffering.

I did look up mobile vet care and found the no-nonsense At-Home Pet Euthanasia, in nearby Pacific Grove. At least I find comfort in knowing that when the time does come, it will be with as little stress to him as possible. As, decades ago, a friend of mine who worked at the SPCA said, it's a gift we are able to give our pets. The trick is knowing just when to provide that out.

Otherwise, for the near future, what it comes down to is simply: love our boy, who gives us so much joy.

(I considered posting something in social media, but this news feels too private. I'm posting it here because it's a place I do sometimes talk about what's going on with me, but it's also a bit of an echo chamber. I have two, maybe three followers. And anyone who follows me is already the in-crowd.

I know many of our friends will care, and they'll find out in time. When David was diagnosed with his lung cancer, he sent emails to people close to us, and now he—desultorily—maintains a Caring Bridge page, with updates. That level of intimacy seems important with something so raw. We've become a society with such weak boundaries. I want to be sure my loves and my griefs both stay close to me, within a caring circle of confidants.)