|
Murphy
was a happy, healthy dog for most of his
(too
short) 9 1/2 years. However we had quite a scare last fall 2001. I found a very tiny growth under his right
front arm. It turned out be a mast cell cancerous tumor. The fear that went through me was horrible. We
took him to a specialist who felt that he could safely remove the growth and that Murph would have another 6+ years of quality
life left. The surgery was horrible - they have to remove a large area surrounding the tumor to be certain that the
cancerous cells haven't invaded surrounding tissue. At the same time, they removed a few other lipomas which were non-cancerous.
My poor Murph came home with all of his beautiful feathers shaved off and 42 staples from the surgery. In typical
Murph style, though he was was comforting me as I cried when I saw my sweet guy, obviously in so much pain....After the initial
recovery period, Murph bounced back - the worst part of it for him was having to wait several months for all of his fur and
feathers to grow in - I think he was embarrassed, so he wore a sweater for much of last winter.
This past summer, 2002, I was finally convinced that my
Murph had indeed beaten the cancer and had many more great years left with me. I was right about one thing - he had
beaten the cancer. However what happened in August has easily become the most painful thing I will ever deal with in
my life. On Wed. night, 8/14, Murph acted "off" when I went to bed - he looked scared, a look I had never seen in our
8 years together. So I cuddled him close and we went to sleep. At 5 a.m. the next morning he was not in the
room - I found him collapsed across the hall, unable to stand and only able to move his head at an odd angle. That "moment
in time" struck more fear in me than anything else in my life. I knew it was bad but I didn't know what it was or what
to do. My son and I managed to get him in the car and to the vet's where they immediately sent me to the Veterinary
Internal Specialists. They said that Murph had central vestibular disease (affecting the brain stem) but were not sure
the cause. He was not allowed to have me visit as the Dr. thought that he was so attached to me that it would set him
back to see me only to have me have to leave. So I forced myself to stay away, thinking that if that's what was best
for him to get better, then that's what I needed to do. He stayed in the hopital for 3 days, on IV meds and numerous
tests were done, including a spinal tap and CAT scan. On Saturday night he was able to stand for the first time and
they thought he had turned the corner and was on his way to a slow recovery. The next morning his Dr. called and told
us that he had suffered a seizure and had lost consciousness. As we frantically got dressed to go to him, she called
back and said that he had suffered another seizure, gone into cardiac arrest and that they were unable to save him.
It was 8:15 a.m. August 18, 2002 - the moment when my clock stopped ticking.....my Murph was gone, had been by himself, and
I never got the chance to say goodbye. We did go to him immediately, and I was able to hug him one last time as he lay
so still. I can only hope that he knew that I was there.
It's very hard to describe in words the overwhelming sense
of loss, sadness, lonliness and heartbreak that followed that phone call. It was unlike anything that I had ever gone
through - if there is one bright light in all of it, I know that nothing ever again will have the ability to break me in two
like losing Murph did. There is not a minute that goes by that I don't wish him back. I know my heart will never
be whole again for he has a piece of it with him at the bridge.
"One more day, one more time,
One more sunset, baby, I'd be satisfied.
But then again, I know what it would
do,
Leave me wishing.....one more day
with you."
"If tears could build a stairway,
and memories a lane......
I'd walk right up to heaven,
and bring you back again"
We miss you so ~sweet Murph~
April 6, 1993 - August 18, 2002
|
