Things I've Learned From My Dog: Anxiety!

To be fair, I've always been a nervous person. Throughout high school, college, and now as an adult, I've spent a decent amount of time thinking, "what if?" Worst case scenarios whiz through my brain at inopportune moments, and are, to be sure, inconvenient at times.

Though I'm the queen of worry, whether it's about an upcoming concert, whether someone might take something I said the wrong way, or whether or not I can cram 12 hours worth of work into the 8 hours I have available, nothing makes me worry quite so much as my furry kids. My worry did not improve when Indiana was diagnosed with cancer. Are you surprised?

After Indiana was diagnosed, to say I was a mess is putting it mildly. Emotional breakdowns not withstanding, I worried every moment of every day about Indiana. Was she feeling ok? Was she reacting to the chemo? Is she breathing? She is breathing, right?

A large part of worry is caused by a lack of control. I can't control the cancer. I don't know what it's going to do. A sensible person will say, "Why worry about something you can't control?" This is totally logical, but honestly, logic flies out the window the minute you get a devastating diagnosis for someone you love. I can't control the cancer, but I sure as heck can worry about it! Score one for me!

At no time does my anxiety grow higher than when I have to travel. The convergence of two tracks of worry: things I can't control (e.g. cancer or kidney disease) and being unable to actually, physically see, with my own two eyes, that indeed, Indiana is still breathing. Indiana's sitters, be it my parents or Jim's, know to expect a daily phone call full of quizzical questions. I may not go so far as to actually ask my Mom if Indiana is still breathing, but I'll ask all sorts of questions she can only answer if Indiana is still breathing. Crazy? Yes. Comforting? Definitely.

When Jim and I travel this week, we've done the best we can to make sure our clan are well cared for. My wonderful in-laws are staying at our house while we're gone to take care of the kids. As always, I won't have to worry that they'll follow our every (obsessive) direction. I know they will. The cat fence (or Stalag 17, as Jim calls it) is finished, so I never have to face the heartbreak of a missing cat ever again. Our wonderful vet tech is coming by to give Indiana her kidney fluids and necessary shots (and, YES!, someone who can give a professional opinion that Indiana is still breathing!). Plus, my parents will be waiting in the wings to help out if anything is needed at home.

So, we're all covered. I shouldn't worry, right? Yet, I will. Bad things happen sometimes, and they are indeed out of my control. All I can do is head off knowing I've done the best I can, and try--though it won't be hard--to have a good time.

Happy Birthday, Indiana!

Today is my sweet Indiana's birthday. She has achieved the thing our vets (and even us, at times) thought impossible--reached the tender age of twelve years old.

Having an aging dog is rough. Don't we all wish we could freeze them at five years old? Stay a happy, healthy age forever? We unfortunately can't do that. It's been hard the past four years, watching Indiana turn into a senior dog. Along with being a cancer survivor, she has become a hypothyroid-, Atypical Cushingoid-, kidney diseased-, arthritic-dog. Each of those diseases has added to the sting of cancer. Shouldn't one major disease exempt her from anything else?

In those dark days, when nothing seems to be going right, when a little part of my heart breaks each time I stick her with a needle to provide kidney-refreshing fluids, when I watch her hobble down the hallway, stiff from arthritis, I remember that she was supposed to have been taken from me at 8 years old. Frozen forever at that young age. I'm not being punished by all these diseases; no, I've been given a blessing. Because I still have a dog who can age.

And while every painful step, every sad look as we walk into the vet's office, and every stick of a needle still breaks my heart, I look into her eyes and see so much life. She has so much fight left in her, and so do I. Every smile in her eyes, every wag of her tail, every excited bark that comes straight from her soul, every meal that she devours with immense gusto...that is what keeps us both going. My girl is a fighter, and every day with her is a gift. Age isn't a curse, it's a blessing.