I love Lucy

Posted by on Feb 27, 2014 in Blog | Comments Off on I love Lucy

I love Lucy

When the vet asked about her past episodes of illness, I was able to remember her history of illnesses because I was able to remember the times when I was feeling a sense of deep helplessness.  When she nearly died, when she spent two weeks in intensive care undergoing multiple blood transfusions, I was on the cusp of leaving for my teacher training abroad.  There was a back and forth of whether or not I should even go, and then when she was eventually sent home and I was assured that my husband would be taking good care of her, I left with trepidation.  Worried check-ins marked my time abroad.  In 2010, while I was away in Mexico, I got a text from my husband saying it “didn’t look good”.  My sweet dog was not eating, couldn’t walk.  Miles away, I was feeling the desire to unplug from everything and dive head-first into the immediate experience, but I remember clearly having moments were I was unable.  There was one savasana where I laid still as tears streamed down the sides of my face, puddling on the mat.  There was a need to worry, to anguish somehow.  It just wasn’t okay to let it go.

A few days ago, Lucy began trembling in the night.  In the light of morning we could see that her foot was swollen and she was in a great deal of pain.  I took her to the vet straight away and found she had a fever and was fighting a steep infection.  Last night I learned that the infection has seeped into her blood and she is septic.  Her blood pressure has fallen.  The source of her infection, her back leg, will continue to ail her and we have had to discuss amputation.  She is on supportive therapy to maintain her vitals.  I laid in bed with a broken heart, that feeling of a total collapse inside.  I had difficulty breathing as the deep sadness weighed over me like a wet blanket.  While not a conscious thought, it was if I somehow owed it to her, that we owe it to those that we love, to suffer when they suffer.  It seemed as if the only thread I had to keep us together was the pain.  It wouldn’t be fair to read a book, or watch a movie.  I owed it to her to spend time with the terrible.  I found my mind wandering, uncontrolled, to awful scenarios which would once again kick-start the tearing process just as they seemed to relent.

Then a thought occurred to me.  ‘This darkness is not serving you and it’s not serving her- it changes nothing’.  The anguish I was swimming in was, in reality, doing nothing to bind us together because binding together is grasping for attachment… it’s all illusory.  Anguish does not change outcomes for those we crumble for, but it does bring unhappiness and heaviness to us and those around us.  In that moment I made a decision to focus on love.  What a gift she is!  What a gift this time has been since she nearly died 5 years ago, beating the odds stacked against her.  I released my need to try and control the situation with pain and (I know this may sound hokey), released her fate to the universe, to the great inevitable.  She will go when it’s her time.  Until then, love.  Love, love, love.   Vets and medicine and proper timing of interventions will assist her if her path is not already to dying.  In the event that she’s still well on this side, I will continue to do all I can to support her health, to make choices that give her a fighting chance.  But in the end it’s really not up to me at all.  If it’s her time, I need to find the courage to let her go.  How lucky we are that our paths crossed, that we were able to bring so much love and happiness to one another.

I’ll be shattered.  Loving deeply, investing heavily, comes with that inherent subtext.  I hope that when the time comes, when the grief swells, that I will find the strength to break through the fog to find the love.  That I will feel and remember love.


All content by Lisa Veronese. Please do not publish or copy my material without my consent.