Fuck you, cancer!

My friend, my former neighbor, my confidant and my gardening, cooking, and shopping buddy passed away Wednesday morning. She was only 50 years old. 50.

She was much too young, much too vibrant and full of joy to be taken from us. When I was sad, Maritza could always find a way to make me happy about again. When I was angry, she helped me find the humor. When I needed a hug, she was there with as many as it took, giving them freely and often.
The world has lost one of the most beautiful, caring, loving spirits that has ever been known. She was quick witted, funny, and nurturing to everyone and everything in her presence. She never encountered an animal she couldn't help or a person she couldn't comfort. She was one of my very best friends in this crazy, wild world, and she will be missed terribly. To meet Maritza was to love Maritza. If you ever met her, you know what I mean, it was impossible not to find yourself surrounded by her love.

Be free, my dear, sweet friend. I love you!

Cancer, Life, and Friendship

One day you're just plugging away at life, paying bills, cooking dinner, folding laundry...The next you're making plans for what will likely be your final visit with a very, very dear friend. One who you'd never expect to be dealt such devastating news.
Life is crazy like that, with its twists and turns. And cancer has no social, moral, or ethical boundaries. It doesn't care that you're still young. So very young. It doesn't care how vivacious you are. It doesn't give one single fuck about your plans, your dreams, your desire to make those around you happy for all the days of your life. It will cut you down without a second thought about the contributions you make to society, and it won't even give you the chance to kick its ass. It just silently goes to work killing you without you knowing it's even there, until it's just too late.
I'm mourning my friend, M, right now, and she's not even gone yet. I'm mourning the fact that I moved away and haven't seen her since then. I'm mulling over the fact that I once saw her every single day and we shared laughter and tears, gardening tools and meals...We took walks and drives, we pampered our wives and commiserated with each other about how our houses needed cleaning...
We bonded, like fast friends do. We weren't just neighbors, but very close, very dear friends. And she always made me laugh, and always knew just how to brighten up a day.
I think about the situation she has been dealt, and I'm pissed. It's just not fair! NOT FAIR!
She was always the one to say, "I need to go exercise, gotta keep healthy!" or "I'm eating this now because I read that it is good for our health."
Ever since I got the news on Wednesday, I've been doing some research. I wanted to know what it is that we're up against. We already know that aside from the large mass that was found, the CT scans and subsequent biopsies showed more in her lungs and even more in her liver. I know that this means we're looking at stage III, likely stage IV disease. The prognosis, at least as far as I can decipher from what I'm reading, is poor.
"Surgical excision remains the cornerstone of therapy. There are no long-term survivors of stage II or III disease; therefore, early diagnosis and treatment remain crucial."
And,
"Five-year survival for all patients with this melanoma is only 3 to 22%."
I'm frightened for my friend, M. I'm frightened for her wife, P. I'm saddened that this is happening to them, the sweet, caring, loving, nurturing people who spent every birthday, holiday, and random celebration with The Wifester and I. The ones who took care of our pets and plants and who left "Congratulations" balloons in our living room for us to come home to after we flew to Canada to get married. And the ones who were there for us through our difficult times, too. When we told them of my diagnosis with my eye disease, it was M who cried and asked me, "Are you going to be left in darkness?"
And now it is me, crying for her, but the darkness she is facing is so much bigger than my loss of sight. I don't know how to support her through this. I don't know how to support P through this. If we still lived next door, I'd pop over and do laundry, cook some meals, wash some floors...
But I'm in Ohio, now, and they're still back in Tennessee. I want to go see my friend, and hold her tight. I want to tell her that it will all be okay and that she is strong enough to fight this thing. I truly hope that she is. But I'm frightened, as I know she is. As I know her wife is.
How do you support someone who is probably dying, much sooner than ever anticipated? How do you support her wife of 20 years?
I can't imagine. And I'm so flipping pissed off that of all the people in this world, this had to happen to them.
It's not right. It's not fair.
Fuck you, cancer!
FUCK YOU!

So Much Love

You may or may not already know this, but our precious Sunny Dog passed away this week. We are terribly saddened and totally devastated.

We didn't know she was so sick, see, Sunny was always a lady. She never complained, she never fussed. She was just a go with the flow kind of girl.

We knew she was getting older and slowing down. Her old joints were arthritic, it seemed. We could see the cataracts in her eyes, we knew she was having trouble seeing. But all in all she seemed pretty healthy, age considered. She ate well, drank well, and went potty regularly. Until Monday, that is. On Monday she didn't want to go out to potty when I called her. I really had to coax her out. And she didn't eat much even though it had extra special, yummy bits added in to entice her. And I really realized she wasn't feeling well when she didn't run to the back door with Sally Sue when The Wifester pulled into the driveway after work.
She's just resting up, I thought.
On Wednesday we knew we had to get her to the vet.
The x-ray seemed to show a mass that appeared where her spleen should have been. The danger of a tumor in the spleen is that you will bleed to death from it. With her blood loss, this fit together well and made perfect sense. The vet assured us that he sees spleen tumors in older labs quite frequently. And removes them quite frequently, as well. We were told that 85% of the time they turn out to be benign and the dog lives on for the duration of its life, and bounces back from surgery just fine. 15% of the time it is cancer, and the dogs life is only momentarily saved by the surgery.
Doing nothing at this moment was a death sentence, though. Slowly dying from internal bleeding is horrific, we didn't want to let that happen to her.
We decided we had to give our Sunny the best possible chance to survive. Even if that meant risking surgery.
We spent quite a bit of time with her, there in the vet's office in a private room. The staff was really nice about letting us spend our time with her before she went into surgery. I'm ever so grateful for that time, now.
We doted on her, loved on her, told her what was happening, and asked her to be strong. We reassured her that we would be there for her.
We didn't expect it would be our last moments with her. But it was.
Sunny didn't make it through surgery. Her heart was too weak, she had lost too much blood, and the tumor that appeared to be her spleen was actually all throughout her chest. Her heart, her lungs, and her liver were just encased with it. Sunny passed under anesthesia, and I take some comfort in that. She saved us from having to make that decision later. That was her style. All she ever wanted to do was to make life easier for us.

Sunny brought The Wifester and I together, you know. She really did.
We met online, but at first I didn't respond to the Wifester's requests for chats and emails. She kept requesting, and I kept ignoring them. I saw a profile name of Sunndogg and thought, huh, who is this chick calling herself a dog? Does she mean she's like one of those party chicks who has slept with everyone in town? I really didn't want to deal with that. Then finally she changed her picture to one of her and the Sunny dog. They were standing by a lighthouse with Lake Erie in the background. That's when I saw this happy, sweet face. And a beautiful, sweet dog next to her. They both were smiling so genuinely, and I knew immediately that Sunndogg was full of love. And so was her dog. That is when I responded to her request to chat, and that is when we began getting to know each other.
Sunny was just 5 years old then. The Wifester had adopted her from a shelter when she was only 12 weeks old. They were a bonded pair.
Sunny won my heart from that photo, but she really won me over the very first time I met her. She came right up to me, tail wagging, and sniffed me over, then kissed me. We were buds from that moment on. Sure, we had the obligatory test of wills and boundaries. I remember one evening, early on, when Sunny stole my steak right off my dinner plate!
And another time when she grabbed my sandwich right out of my hand. And that was so uncharacteristic of her, but she was testing me. And probably telling me, "Hey, lady, I've been here a lot longer than you. I'm top dog here."
But we came to an agreement that we both loved her momma and that we could share all the good things in life. With that, Sunny dog cozied right up to me, and to Max, my kitty.
Years later, Sunny comforted me when Max fell ill with cancer, and eventually had to be put down.
I think she knew how hard that was for us to do and this time, she decided she would do the hard part for us.

Sunny inspired us to live our lives with love, peace and acceptance. She exemplified a life of loyalty, love, and peace. Sunny inspired my art, and my business, Sunny Dog Snacks.
Sunny inspired and wooed everyone who ever met her. She taught Sally Sue a few lessons, too.

We are terribly sad to be without our Sunny dog, but we are grateful for the years we had with her. We know that we are better people for having known her, and that we are special because we get to keep remembering her and all the love that she brought to this world.
And so much love that was.
The Wifester said to me last night, "Just think about all of that love that has been released back into the universe."
You can't begin to know how much love that soul carried. No one can, not even us, and we lived with it every day. Sunny is now part of the cosmos, and her love is radiating back down on us all. This world is a better place now, having Sunny's love to spread around. And isn't that exactly what this world needs now, as the song says? Love, sweet love.

The C Word

When did people stop calling it "The Big C", or "The C Word", and just start saying it, "Cancer"? I remember my parents and grandparents in the kitchen in hushed voices saying, "Did you hear? Shirley's got the Big C. It came back..."
I wondered if she was taking classes and not doing very well. I was young, and I was wrong, at least about the school part.
I recently found out that two of my cousins have been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
One is my Tia Anita's daughter, the other is my Auntie Maggie's. My friend lost his wife last year after a very short, dramatically short battle with pancreatic cancer. It was only a couple of weeks after her diagnosis before she lost her battle. She was young, and left behind two young daughters. I hate that for their family. Hate it.
Then again, I don't know whether that was a blessing or just another one of life's cruel twists of fate. I suppose it was a little bit of both.
I watched my aunt die slowly, painfully, mercilessly from cancer. She was deluded by the morphine, overwhelmed with pain, and frightened.
It took that woman two years to pass. Two years of bed baths, tubes, needles, nurses...
Two years of my uncle tending to her dutifully. Two years of her children and family watching her suffer day after day, after day...
Cancer. She doesn't care who you are, how old or young you are, how much money you do or don't have to spend fighting her. She pays no attention to how kind and generous you've been in your life. Karma is not in her vocabulary. She'd just as soon pick you as anyone else on this planet.
No rhyme. No reason.
Cancer is an equal opportunity bitch.