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Things I'd rather you didn't say
Jun. 11th, 2016 09:29 am"She had a long life." For me, this contains the implication that I should be content with the time I had with her. I am not content. I am grieving. And the fact that I had sixteen years with Arwen means that I have sixteen years of my life twined with hers, and the gap will be very large.
"She's going to a better place." I don't believe in an after-life, nor do I find the concept of an after-life the least bit comforting.
"It'll be ok." No, it won't. There is nothing ok about this. Yes, I say that too. I told her that over and over again on the way home from the vet with after her terminal diagnosis. It's still a lie.
I also have zero interest in talking about terminal options. This is not my first rodeo, kids. I am perfectly aware of the options, and I will deal with the necessities as they come up. But at the moment, she's her own self. She's eating, complaining, and getting around about as spryly as ever. She's nearly blind in her right eye, and that will probably get worse. But she's not currently in pain.
I found out yesterday. She has a tumor on the right side of her face, which is causing the right eye to swell shut, and there is an open sore in her mouth. The doctor says that it is neither operable nor treatable. There's a minuscule chance it's an infection, and I'm giving her antibiotics for it. But it's not, and we all know it.
I have a lot of other stress going on, right now. Things are not good. And no, I don't really know what you _should_ say. I'm crap at this whole being supportive and saying kind things, too. And I won't hold it against you if you say the wrong thing. But I'm prone to flashes of anger and flashes of despair, just now. Very emotionally labile. If you nick me the wrong way, even if you say something perfectly reasonable and kind, I may get angry or upset. I'll get over it. But my immediate reactions are not necessarily on an even keel.
"She's going to a better place." I don't believe in an after-life, nor do I find the concept of an after-life the least bit comforting.
"It'll be ok." No, it won't. There is nothing ok about this. Yes, I say that too. I told her that over and over again on the way home from the vet with after her terminal diagnosis. It's still a lie.
I also have zero interest in talking about terminal options. This is not my first rodeo, kids. I am perfectly aware of the options, and I will deal with the necessities as they come up. But at the moment, she's her own self. She's eating, complaining, and getting around about as spryly as ever. She's nearly blind in her right eye, and that will probably get worse. But she's not currently in pain.
I found out yesterday. She has a tumor on the right side of her face, which is causing the right eye to swell shut, and there is an open sore in her mouth. The doctor says that it is neither operable nor treatable. There's a minuscule chance it's an infection, and I'm giving her antibiotics for it. But it's not, and we all know it.
I have a lot of other stress going on, right now. Things are not good. And no, I don't really know what you _should_ say. I'm crap at this whole being supportive and saying kind things, too. And I won't hold it against you if you say the wrong thing. But I'm prone to flashes of anger and flashes of despair, just now. Very emotionally labile. If you nick me the wrong way, even if you say something perfectly reasonable and kind, I may get angry or upset. I'll get over it. But my immediate reactions are not necessarily on an even keel.
