One step at a time…

The update to my therapist below from yesterday shows slow progress being made. I’m writing about it as a way of processing things. After sending this email, Fergal and I had a great day in the park and ended up at a patio where the little bastard charmed the waitress into giving him a plate of bacon. He’s always had a way with the ladies. 

 

 

Begin forwarded message:

Thx as always. After several hour of intense grief, literally sobbing on the phone with my mother and Jonah, I seemed to level out. It comes back quickly (as I’m writing this for example) but less uncontrollable.

I took Fergal up to the dog run on the roof last night before we went to bed (a normal part of our routine) and he struggled to climb the stairs. I had to lift him onto the bed when we got back. He continues to hang his head low which I know means he doesn’t feel good.

I lay and talked to him last night, his face tucked into my neck. I told him what an amazing friend he is, how he’s taught me to love and care for others, how much he’s helped me when I’ve struggled and truly given me a reason to live through some of my darker times. I started to tell him that I couldn’t imagine my life without him but then stopped as I realized he will always be with me in my heart and my memories. I shared this with him as well.

I was surprised to hear myself telling him, as I come to grips with the fact he’s not feeling well (hopefully not feeling pain), that it’s okay for him to let go if he has to. I almost wish this would happen instead of the alternative which is facing us now.

You asked me to name what I’m scared of.

I’m scared of watching him decline further over the next few days.

I’m scared of waiting too long and allowing him to suffer but I’m equally scared of moving too fast.

I’m scared of being alone, of coming home to an empty apartment. And I’m scared of putting his things away.

That’s all I can process/articulate for now. We’re lying in bed as I write this. One of his favorite things (and mine) has always been to go under the duvet where he tucks himself against me at night. I turned the air conditioning up so he could do this last night.

Thanks for the offer of speaking this weekend. For now, I’m okay but I won’t hesitate to ring you should anything change as it almost inevitably will.

Jason

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One thought on “One step at a time…

  1. I lost my sweet, funny cat, Scamp, a couple of months ago to squamous cell carcinoma; a fast growing, aggressive tumor on her jaw. As you struggle with “when” I see that it was all about good days with Scamp still loving life and she did through the very last moments — playful, curious and funny. When it was time, it was a very soft transition – as if I was literally placing her in God’s hands.
    It is so difficult to make that decision, but it will be one of the kindest things you do for Fergal. Sending you both a big, warm hug.

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