The topic of "decisions" has been on my mind
lately and I now realize why.
Dad died ten years ago today and he made his own
decisions about treatment for his kidney failure (deciding against it). It was not the decision I would have made for him but,
strangely enough, I have to make a similar decision about my puppy, Taz (he's 7
but always my puppy). Taz doesn't have cancer but he has a parathyroid tumor
causing hypercalcemia, requiring surgery. Without it, Taz could eventually go
in to kidney failure.
Taz is the most temperamental dog (or cat for that matter)
that I've ever had. He's picky about his food, doesn't like to be disturbed
when he's asleep (but loves to hog the bed), gets grumpy with other dogs when his tummy hurts and
absolutely refuses to take medication. Both our vet and dog walker said he is
the original social distancer but if you're in his tribe (or eventually lets
you in to his tribe), he adores you, cuddles with you and makes you feel like you’re
his favorite person in the whole world!
The surgery requires a several day stay in the doggie ICU after
surgery and, quite possibly,
medication for life.
I honestly don't know that I want to put my little sensitive
guy through all that.
For a long time, I was upset with Dad for choosing not to
investigate the cause of his kidney failure (most likely, his cancer had returned) much less treat it. I have come to
realize that was the best choice for him.
We all have to make our own decisions.
We haven't decided about Taz yet but I am enjoying each day
with him while I mull over the options.
As for Dad, he was an avid individualist full of
contradictions which was both maddening and fascinating. He would never listen
to reason but he was one of those people who would light up a room with his
presence. He adored his kids and grandkids but was married and divorced more
than a couple of times. He made and lost a boatload of money and then made it
again (and lost it). He didn’t have a lot of friends but people loved to be
around him!
He had the bluest eyes I've ever seen and a mischievous grin
that he flashed not only throughout his life but at his granddaughter, Rachel, as
he was dying.
I used to get so mad at him for a million different things
(all absolutely legit, believe me) but I also recognize that I have wonderful
memories of him and wouldn’t be the person I am today without his influence (whether
it was negative or positive).
Of one thing I am sure and Rachel reminded me of this today:
I was his favorite daughter.
(As his only daughter, it was a fun little running joke we had my entire life.)
Make the decisions that are right for you. Enjoy every
moment with the people (and animals) in your life and every now and then, flash
a mischievous grin – just for the heck of it.
Miss you, Dad. Don't cause too much trouble up there.
