It's late. I should be in bed. We are getting up early tomorrow and driving two hours to Davis where Dixie will be examined by a member of the state's finest, if unaccredited, vet school. I'm going into this blind, really. I don't know what kind of exams they'll do, what options they'll give us. I've already made up my mind against surgery, though. They'll have to make an airtight case for it before I'll put her under the knife again. But they might be able to clarify what's in there that's creating the ominous dark mass on the ultrasound near her adrenal glands. I would rather know. Witholding information "for my own good" drives me frantic with frustration. I am suspicious of doctors, lawyers, anyone with authority and information that could actually affect my life, because so often they have either ignored me or given me the watered down version of whatever they decide I can handle.
All this worry over Dixie's health is causing a fair amount of panic in me. I'm not okay with the notion of aging and dying when it comes to me. I'm trying my best to be realistic and philosophical and take things one day at a time, but let me tell you: underneath this calm exterior I am distraught with fear. I can't think of a single reason why I should be here taking up valuable and diminishing resources just because I happen to be born, yet I don't want to die. Ever. There's no graceful segue into middle age here, baby. I'm not happy about it.
Only some of the time, though, and this current situation with the dog's health is just stirring it up into a big, cloudy mess. I truly like being an adult. I hated being a kid most of the time, and I have no sentimental attitudes about trying to retain my childlike sense of wonder. I traded it for a sophisticated sense of how the world works, including humanity, and I only wish I could have gotten some of it sooner in life. Knowledge is power. Being a child is being powerless. Being an adult doesn't solve all the power issues, but it helps, oh it helps.
There is no power on earth that can extend my dog's life indefinitely. Or mine. I think, however, we can make sure the time is well spent, happy, and worthwhile. Hers and mine. Middle age beats the alternative.
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