What You Think…Might Not Be So. Redirecting Content…

IMG_0551There are occasions when we think we can tell the “Universe” or “God” what we think is supposed to happen.  We push, we shove…something doesn’t 100% feel right, but we do it anyway.  We try to swim upstream, try to maniuplate situations so we can have it “our” way, only to find out, we may…just MAY…be ‘barking’ up the wrong tree.  So to Speak…or So we think….

Thus this title.  Thus my Redirect.  Here all along I thought I’d be writing about my experiences as a long-time hairdresser and Salon owner,  about my client’s lives, and about my own very colorful life, and intertwine stories among stories to create a great self help for others…and now, as of today, I feel the joke is on me.  Instead, I feel a clearer picture…and it isn’t about helping OTHERS at all.  It is about helping myself….

You see, I have a lovely life, like everyone, been through my share of struggles, and my share of ups and downs….emotions, illnesses, etc., Haven’t we all?  I mean, really. HAVEN’T we ALL.  But, today….I sit here….having just moved from our home of 5 years, to the much more meger townhome I had purchased for myself before I met Jimmy, my husband, and realize it isn’t about the house, it isn’t about the job, it isn’t about the car….it is the life’s core message…it’s about love, hearache, joys, sorrows, and the most simple, free things in life.

Aside from my husband going through a cancer surgery this coming week, and still rummaging through boxes from the move to find my favorite knives and the decorative piece that belongs on my diningroom table….Today….today…..I finally got an answer from a specialized Vet, that our precious Scottish Terrier, Bo, (true name is Mr. Barney Bojangles), has a malignant tumor in his bladder, in a place where you cannot go in and surgically remove it.  The mass is in a place where it is impossible to get to, as it’s right exactly where his urine needs to come to the bladder from his Kidneys, and we were given no real options….since this is not a curable cancer.  This is a quality of life decision…and we must live one day at a time, in spite of modern medicine, and in spite of all these high paid doctors.  Some things…we simply cannot control.

It is called Transitional Cell Carcinoma.  Big name for such a small sized cancer.  Sure, we could discuss, and may investigate going to NC State Vetrinary Oncologists.  Our vet still tells me, ‘it is what it is’ and even though we could prolong life for a while, we still will see it take his life, there is no cure.  We can see how sick he gets with Chemo.  See how sick he gets with possible radiation. Quality vs. Quantity-the vet said.   Nonetheless.  Bo’s days are numbered.  I am aware of it.  As of today…I will be counting those days with him.  My count, however, is not a count DOWN.  My days will be a counting upwards…of each day we rejoice in having our ‘son son’ (pet name Jimmy and I gave him years ago).  Each time he chases his ball, or does his little half skip in excitment of hearing the leashes getting ready for a walk…each observation he has …as he intently watches the neighborhood deer eating leaves from a tree, his need to bark ferociously at the person on their bike wizzing by him…the countless quirks that make Bo…..Bo.

I see that I will be writing my journal of tales and insights…as I see the world through Bo’s eyes.

His heart is 100% tenderhearted.  He is soft, trusting, patient, kind.  He is the definition of unconditional love.   Every day…every minute….my journey is to learn from HIM.

Love you Bo.

Mom