On Friday (two days ago), we brought Freckles to the vet to have her put down. She was a lab-pointer mix that we got from our local Humane Society 9 years ago.
We found out 4 months ago that she had cancer, so we knew it was only a matter of time. Her last 24 hours with us, her hind legs were really not functional, and she was distraught that she couldn’t get up. Her breathing was labored, she panted, and it was clear that her belly was distended. It truly was time to relieve her of her misery.
Saturday, our first day with Freckles, was quite difficult for me. I have this anxiety problem — I guess that’s what it is — that rears its head when I’m dealing with things like change or grief. I will call my therapist, who has been helping Hubby and me with family issues, on Monday so I can meet with her about the anxiety.
The anxiety feels like a wave that washes over me, makes my chest tight, makes it hard to breathe, makes the sadness and tears come on. It happens more often when I’m not busy with something, when I’m at loose ends, or when I’m getting worn out, like at the end of the day.
That brings me to the present moment. I am deciding whether to go to church today. Not sure if it is a good idea at this point. Our veterinarian is a member of our small church, and I do not want to end up a blubbering mess the first time someone asks me how I’m doing. I wish like anything I could hold myself together better during difficult times.