We lay on the bed together that morning. I was reading – Freya was sleeping.
I turned a page and Freya scratched an ear … with a left hind foot. I stared. Part of me, the flippant ‘hide your pain’ part of me was all ‘enjoy that while it lasts’. Another part was quietly weeping inside.
Not all tears are an evil? (Take refuge in Tolkien) But I felt so bad.
I placed her in her carrier and off we went to the vet’s.
I took deep calming breaths. Did absolutely no good. Tears were a constant pressure behind my eyes.
Hold it together!! You’re a professional person. You know it is the only option. Hey, there are people who are having much worse days than you. You have the money for the operation (your heart bleeds a little for those posts and pages you’ve seen in your frantic scouring of the internet for all the information you can find where they know their finances cannot give them a choice). You take another breath. Still no good.
The vet is lovely and warm. He smiles. He explains the best of care will be taken. X-rays will be taken. That new lump I think I found the other day (all of a sudden amputation is a preferred option to ‘I’m sorry it’s no use’) will be checked.
All I know is that my little Freya will soon be on a table and not all of her will go back in her cage.
Tears. Fears. Composure gone. Tissues essential. Small talk and then no talk. Small talk again.
Leave. Now.
The call came. All clear. No additional lumps found. Surgery clean. Out from anaesthetic. All good.
More tears.
Not all tears are an evil.