Tremors

Colby with Abby (left) and Mom's dog, Rocky, (right)

Tremors. Little tremors shake up my carefully constructed world. Cracks spread around my life and I cannot glue them back together. It doesn't matter, I am way beyond trying. The latest tremor is that my mom's two-year-old dog, Rocky, has melanoma. She loves that dog. He is her reason for living, partially because Colby and I gave him to her Christmas before last.

Normally I could handle such news. Put a positive face on it. I'd research canine melanoma, find treatments and therapies. Now all I can do is sit on the couch and shake. I can't think. I want to throw up. Just how does a two-year-old, hairy, dark-skinned dog get melanoma anyway?

Skin cancer runs in our family, so I guess Rocky comes by it naturally. My mother has it. I have had it. I may have it again. That is one of the many things my current insurance will not cover because it is a pre-existing condition. The screening and testing is several thousand dollars and I can't afford it. I can't afford the dog's surgery either, but will find some way to pay for it.

Most people do not think of financial considerations when they think of grieving parents. Even if, like me, a parent does not take time off from work, things are processed lower, not as much gets done in a day. For me, lower productivity means lower wages. I feel the pinch. It has been eight months and I am still not back up to speed. I may never be.

I have spoken to, emailed with, many grieving parents who cannot work, even years after their children have passed. There is no focus, no organization in our brains. Simple things are forgotten. Mistakes are made. Many others, though, like me, try. We have no other option. I have work to do. Now. Today. It must be done, yet all I can do is hug my own dog, and cry.