This abandonment, much like any tragedy as you experience it, makes time feel like it is standing still. You move though a thick, foggy air. Getting around takes more time, forming coherent sentences takes more work. Getting your lips to form a smile requires serious heavy lifting. It is as if the world has slowed it's turn, and you can't decide if it's doing it to help you (because maybe this slowness allows you extra time to look at things, to figure them out, to decide how to try to fix things or deal with them, at least) or is it harmful? You're already sort of vulnerable, and now you feel like you can't sprint away from something if you need to. No fight or flight here, because you're moving through jello.
But then something happens. You hear someone screaming with laugher. You hear someone talking about their vacation, you see someone smiling a real smile. It is jarring when you see or hear it. It doesn't sound right, it looks foreign to see a smile that lights up someone's eyes. "Oh yeah," you think, "I used to do that too."
And that's when you realize- it is not everything. Nothing else has slowed to tackle this crisis. Time and the rotation of the earth are at normal speed. They slow for no one.
In a way, it's comforting, I guess. The unimportance of my crisis- while ANNOYING- is actually nice. I am small. My pain is REAL and BIG, but it's ok. Because the world won't end from this. And that means there is still a world for me to move through, to exist in, outside of this pain. This fog/jello/foggy jello/whatever it is- has an end to it, because I can see and hear people on the other side of it.
I know I am on the right path, because through the foggy jello I see beacons of light. I hear familiar voices and hope to see and do things on the other side. Wading through, ever so slowly, allows me the time to decide exactly what it is I want to do when I get through it. What classes will I take, what hobbies will I prioritize, what places will I go? And suddenly those things make your smile more genuine, even in the midst of your jello tragedy. The people you will see and the things you will do motivate you to push a little faster. Like a train, it takes a lot of effort to get going at the beginning- but once you pick up speed you can maintain it, even through the fog/jello.
I recognize there will be faces missing on the other side of this jello (is everyone picturing purple jello? I feel that's most appropriate. But if you think red makes more sense, or orange- you just do you). Because one very important face has already left. Others will leave in solidarity, and some may leave because it is too challenging for them to handle a friendship with someone swim-walking through what is essentially crushed up horse bone with food coloring and sugar. It's messy, and it isn't pleasant. It's not for the faint of heart or the fair weathered among us. This is ok. Because you know the ones waiting on the other side are who you really want to see. The kind of people you need in your life because they won't run when the going gets tough. Not that it isn't still sad to see the others go. But the people who leave your life leave it for reasons as important (if not more) than the reasons others stay with you.
And it is telling as fuck. Let's not forget that.
Hindsight is 20/20 even if some of the things you learn when you can finally see it are terrifying. Monsters under the bed, indeed.
And something else I've learned? It isn't always just one layer of jello, or fog... or both... whatever. To further muddy the jello- life may toss you something else to juggle while you head back toward the land of the living. For some it might be the loss of a job, a foreclosure on a house. Maybe a close friend is suddenly battling through her own jello.
At first you think- "Oh no, this is it. I can't possible manage these at the same time." But you do. After a few days you realize "Oh, hey, I woke up again. I didn't die, so when I said I thought this was going to kill me.... I was wrong."
This is great! It motivates you because you know that while you're now slogging through foggy jello carrying a 700 pound gorilla (which is clearly going to slow you down a bit) you are still moving in the right direction. And when you get there, you're gonna be in bomb-ass shape because HELLO- this is a killer workout.
So my additional layer of jello (which I understand is weird, but can we agree that it's a nicer image than picturing me schlepping through literal shit? No one wants to picture that much poo. So really, I'm just looking out for you.) is Dash. I noticed a lump on his head and assumed it was related to a recent episode of clumsiness. He is an almost 11 year old French bulldog, so being clumsy is very common.
Unfortunately, cancer is also common in almost 11 year old French bulldogs and I'm really sad to say it is that latter of the two that explains the existence of this stupid bump on his head.
I saw the report and started shaking- it had lots of words you don't want on a report about your sweet pooch:
malignant
aggressive
sarcoma.
Shit.
So things aren't looking good for this little boy. He is currently (and will remain so for as long as there is anything I can do about it) blissfully ignorant of the fact that there is something very bad growing on his skull. The thing that will be what takes him away from me is here. And it will not take it's time. Without a lot of additional testing it's hard to say for sure- but the oncologist suspects 2-6 months at best before we start seeing symptoms. The symptoms we can expect to see will be painful and scary- seizures, difficulty breathing and pressure on his eye.
Shit.
I could do things. There are things I could do and maybe get 8 months instead of 6- but nothing will cure this, and anything I do could potentially make things worse. Side effects, pain, fear.... I don't want him to live through a month or 2 of that to live a month or 2 more. Quality of life at this point far outweighs quantity when I look at this from the perspective of - what is best for Dash? Not that there isn't part of me that wants to do literally everything I can. Empty my bank account, max out credit cards, rob a bank and let this dog live as long as possible.
But why?
He won't like living with a plate in his head and sutures from one end of his noggin to the other. He won't like being sedated and kept in a cage while he waits for radiation treatment. Chemo might slow the growth but it will also make him feel sick and not want to eat- and what's the point if once treatment is done he still has cancer that will take him away from the people he loves and the sniffs he loves to sniff and the foods he loves to eat? Better to just eat and snuggle and go fun places and be with his mem until he starts to show me signs that he's not enjoying those things anymore.
Things on the other side of Jello Lake will be different. But if I've learned anything, it's that different is ok. There will be people and things to mourn. But I can carry them in my heart while I keep going. I can celebrate and honor where I've come from but still move on. It doesn't mean I forget, it doesn't mean I don't care, it doesn't mean I can't look back. It just means I will do it while I move forward. A better person because of it. Sad when I want or need to be, but happier overall and with the understanding that I can handle WAY more than people think. Myself included.
I might not eat jello anymore, though.... I haven't decided.
