Well Shit, Fuck and every other goddamn swearword out there. I just had to put my beloved Frenchie LucyFur to sleep today. She was only 3. Only THREE!
Our Lucy had her first seizure about a year ago. I remember I was home alone since the boothing was out of town. I was just getting curled up in bed and all of a sudden our bed was shaking from underneath. My poor Lucy liked to sleep there sometimes. I look under and she was shaking so violently and foaming at the mouth I remember I screamed and panicked and went into crazy WTF do I do mode. To the Emergency vet we went.
That night seamed like forever ago. In the mean time we have had countless vet appointments, neurologists, trips to the ER, late night pharmacy runs and never-ending calls to Nationwide insurance to see if things were covered with her pet insurance.
We rearranged our whole lives over her 3 times a day pill time. Tried all the sneaky ways of hiding them. Cheese, Peanut butter, ham and turkey. She was a honey ham kind of girl. We had our Alexia alerts shout out reminders. She got to know her voice and when she said LucyFur pill time she actually got up and went to the fridge because of course that’s where the ham is.
We politely declined invites, passed on things we wanted to do, and postponed reservations so we could be home so we didn’t miss any dose.
Over this past year our Lucy progressively got worse. Where she would have had a seizure once every few months to then weeks to cluster seizures each hour and over the last 2 days..every 20 min. I felt so helpless. They say they do not feel them when it’s happening but I know for damn sure they feel different when they come out of it. She was lethargic, drooling, and sometimes could not control her bowels.
This morning she could not keep her head up, was not responding to sights or sounds and the seizures were coming so fast that there was barely any recovery time. It was time. We knew her life was going to be cut short by her condition but we were not prepared to say goodbye at 3 years old.
That long drive to the vet was only 15 minutes but with each passing mile I was screaming inside and wanted it to take 15 hours. We pull into the parking lot with my BF holding her in his lap willing for her to give us a sign. I wanted to put the car back in gear and get the hell out of there. What the Fuck was I thinking?
We sat there for 10 minutes before I could even figure out how to get my feet out of the car in order to walk into the building. I went in first to tell them we were here. I called earlier and I was impressed they actually understood my info through my tears.
Fast forward to the end. She was gone. I can’t bare to relive in words but if you have ever had to do this then you know the drill. Cry, say goodbye, stop breathing, cry, hug and feel like the biggest piece of shit that you could not save her and then have to leave her body with strangers.
My heart hurts. My body hurts, my soul hurts. For me already struggling with anxiety and depression I worry about how to handle and how to move forward without a complete meltdown. Self care and listening to my body is key. I have been napping, crying we it pops up, eating comfort food and scrolling through the 1..2 million pictures of her on my phone. Laughing, snorting, crying and hurt all at once.
I know she is not suffering but I am. I’m being selfish and need her here. The apartment is lonely and weird without her. I have 3 other Frenchies who I love and adore but it’s not her and I only want her right now.
I keep telling myself grief is normal and I’m doing ok. I know I will be but I’m going to just sit with my pain for a while and listen to what I’m feeling.
Just wanted to pop on and get my thoughts out. Thank you for listening. Love you all.