Day 226: Remember the Time... Just Tell Me It's Going To Be OK, Even If It Isn't

One day it was there.

I was petting Chloe's head and grazed a bump on the back of her skull. I parted the fur to reveal what looked like a large, hard mole. But I've petted my pooch's head for seven years and never came across it before.

So I took her to the vet who looked at it and said it could be something, it could be nothing.

It was something.

Remember the time I wanted to be spoken to as if I were a child and not a mom who was already really worried about her baby?

Instead of hearing the words 'needle biopsy' and 'tumor' and 'excise' while feeling the weight of my nervous pup huddled against my leg that was probably shaking as much as her, part of me just wanted the vet to speak to me as if I were a child to take the fear away:

"Your doggie has a boo-boo, but next week I'm going to make it all better and she'll be fine." 

These are the kinds of words we'd use with children. Innocent children. We shelter them from the harsh realities of the real world because they're just too young to understand how horrific the world can be. And in many ways, I do believe that ignorance is bliss.

However, of course the responsible adult in me wanted to know exactly what the surgery entailed and how serious she thought it would be, but Chloe is my baby. And knowing something might be wrong with my baby that could possibly cause her pain is gut-wrenching. 

I have to keep it in perspective and remember that the vet said there were only a few abnormal cells, so she wants to remove the whole thing just to be sure, but it's hard.


What would I do without my baby?