Sometimes you just need a photo...

or several to best express what you're trying to articulate.

Brother and sister reunited. Lab lovers and dog owners alike will understand by the expressions in their soulful brown eyes and happily panting faces right down to their nearly identical matching black birthmarks on their tongues.

Meet Koufax and Doc, a brother-sister reunion at its best.

Canine Connections

I love the first day of a new month because it's a chance to start over and set new goals for the next 30 or 31 days. It's also a reminder to slow down, reassess and ponder this existence called life. Like Forrest Gump once professed, some days you just don't know what you're going to get.

Today was one of those such days.

The encouragement of a friend led me to enter a canine contest describing my dog's inner self in 100 words or less with an accompanying photo for a chance to win a photo session. Hey what did I have to lose? After all, I've penned many a thought about my 10 1/2 year old yellow lab, Koufax. I've been taking more photos of him than unusal ever since his diabetes diagnosis six weeks ago to capture, well the obvious.

So entered away I did.

Jaime, the contest sponsor followed up with an email noting how she was a lab mom as well and the uncanny resemblance of her dog to Koufax. Of course, hers was also 10 1/2 and wow, wouldn't that be weird of her Doc and my Koufax were from the same breeder.

Nah. What would be the chances?

Well that led to a flurry of emails inquiring about the exact location of breeder, Doc and Koufax's birthdates, shared health ailments...

I sensed a huge discovery just moments away from being revealed. I was giddy with excitement over the prospect that Koufax had a long lost sister he could reunite with.

We both unearthed the pedigree paper trail we'd held on to all these years.

The flurry of back and forth emails continued.

Would you believe, they both in fact had the same breeder.

Mismatched mother's names though.

Jaime emailed back, "So close."

Wait. Hold on.

Sire.

Rascal.

A playing-the-field-busy rascal indeed.

BINGO!

We have a half-sibling match.

And a ten and a half year reunion in the making already planned.

I can finally say...

Whoooooooooooooooooooo hoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! I'm a 10-year meningioma brain tumor survivor.

Ten years ago today I was granted a second chance at life. This sums it all up.

10x The Triumph

"Clean as a whistle."

That's all I needed to hear hugging Dr. Black. I've undergone numerous MRI's, but this one in particular had me especially on edge. The proof was before my eyes as Dr. Black scrolled past clear image after clear image on the computer.

Proof I still had nothing upstairs, well tumor speaking that is!

Meningioma-free.

Ten times the triumph.

Doggone It

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.

Ten Times the Trouble...

Yes, it's that time of year again. Not the dead of winter during Colorado's known coldest month. Nor making only-to-be-broken resolutions. I stopped making those years ago. It's that time of year when I brace myself for the inevitable and pricey date with one very intimidating body of steel and magnets. An MRI.

People still ask if I get nervous even this far out from my ex-roommate's eviction and the answer is always yes. And perhaps even more so this time because when I take the strapped down plunge next Wednesday, I'll find out if I can proclaim I've been meningioma-free for 10 years.

Until then, this tenth MRI is ten times the trouble and...

Anxiety.
Angst.
Biting nails.
Butterflies.
Cold sweats.
Distress.
Dread.
Edginess.
Fidgeting.
Fright.
Goose bumps.
Hebbie-jeebies.
Ill at ease.
Jitters.
Killing time.
Kleenex.
Letting air out.
Misery.
Nail-biting.
Obsessing.
On pins and needles.
Panic.
Quivering.
Restlessness.
Strain.
Stress.
Suffering.
Suspense.
Tense.
Torture.
Trepidation.
Unease.
Upset.
Ventilating.
Vexing.
Waiting.
Worried stiff.
X-ray--clear?!
Yes or no in my head wondering about the results.
Zapped energy all the while waiting.

On the Eve of Despair...

Ten years ago today I couldn't understand why I was depressed and had no interest in ushering in the new millennium.

I didn't recognize myself. Where had I disappeared to? I only craved a quiet evening at home with my family in California.

While lying in bed listening to fireworks continue into the early hours of the millennium morning, I knew there was something more to explain why I'd felt lost, lonely and losing a complete grip on my life. I regarded 1999 as a total wash.

I never would have dreamed that a decade later I'd be on the brink of celebrating fingers crossed!) 10 years of being meningioma-free! Tonight will be anything but an evening of despair.

I am grateful to be alive, to have my two miracle children, Hannah and Hunter; my 10-year-old dog, Koufax and my husband, Mark who got down on one knee in foot deep Steamboat Springs' snow and asked me to share my life with him 17 years ago.

What a difference the beginning of a new decade makes.

Happy New Year's!