It's too much

Monday, November 9, 2009

10:00 am – This morning I completely lost it.  Fred (my rat terrier) is sick – cold, shivering and vomiting.  I don’t know what to do, so I call David crying.  This is his first day back at work after being at the hospital with me for the last three days.  He hasn’t even been in the office for an hour yet, and I am calling him to come home.  I don’t have a car today, so I can’t take Fred to the vet myself.
David doesn’t hesitate – he tells me he’s on his way as soon as I tell him what’s wrong.  I wait the 20 minutes or so it will take him to get here, still in my bathrobe, rocking and crying and begging God to please not take my dog.  David arrives, lifts Fred gently from his crate and prepares to transfer him to his carrier when Fred vomits again – nothing but foam.  He leaves with Fred and I stumble to the shower, where I completely break down.  “It’s too much” I sob to God.  “It’s too much.”
I notice that my hands are going about their business; washing my hair, soaping my body, skimming gently over the suture line where the surgeon closed my leg back up after removing two very enlarged lymph nodes just four days ago.
Four days ago my life was normal.  Then, within 24 hours, it went spinning out of control, leaving me here, shaking and crying, wet and naked, begging for God’s help.  I know he is there, but I can’t feel him just now.


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