Doggone it.
I'm reeling from another devastating diagnosis. Ten years ago it was my own--a meningioma brain tumor. Now it's my dog's. My firstborn. Koufax my crutch. The yellow lab who cheered me on and encouraged me during my brain surgery recoveries. He nudged me to get off the couch. Always reassuring me that I wouldn't be alone on this journey.
Three days ago I sat in the vet's waiting room doing that agonizing wait thing associated with all waiting rooms. Waiting for what? My world to collapse again.
The gut just knows when something's not right. Been there, done that too many times. With myself, my kids, now Koufax.
The long face.
Weight loss.
Insatiable thirst. In winter?
Such a sudden onset too.
I lost track of how many times I swallowed my heart. Eyes welling up over and over again preparing myself for the worst case scenario.
One word.
Diabetes.
Followed by another language I'm quickly crash coursing-- blood glucose curves, insulin, ketones....
What was that?
Needles?
Twice a day?
It's manageable.
So many questions. The answers are carefully explained, but I can't retain what I know I need to know. To remember.
How does a healthy eating and active dog get diabetes?
More common than you'd think.
For Koufax, simply a case of bad luck. That's the thing with Koufax and me, it's always been that way.
Meningioma.
Epilepsy.
Lipomas.
Thyroid.
Diabetes.
We'll stop now, thank you very much.
Now it's my turn to be Koufax's crutch.
