What a long, strange few months it’s been…
I’m shaking off the cobwebs from a little over two month’s time lacking a creative rhythm while treading residential and emotional water…
After realizing the suburbs weren’t for us and that 2 people and a dog didn’t need much space, we decided to sell our home in Arlington and move back into DC. Our house was under contract less than a week after we went on the market (yo, full asking, bitches!), so we went into scramble mode to find a place in our targeted DC neighborhood. When you are looking for a place at the same time hordes of summer interns are also hunting for digs, you have to treat house hunting like you’re on a survival trip with Bear Grylls. For a few weeks, I armed myself with Lou Lou’s doggy resume and copies of our credit report and transformed into the pushiest version of myself. I’m happy to report that after a lot of legwork and checkbook waving, we are happily ensconced on Capitol Hill in a great rental row house that will allow us the time to find a similar place to renovate to our likings.
For me, moving is no longer an emotionally stressful event like it is for some people. We have scaled down quite a bit and are pretty mobile for people who have a dog with her own closet. Instead, moving has become an annoying speedbump in getting to the next place I want to be. So we move fast-and-furious-style: packers come one day, the movers come the next and the new place is unpacked and organized within 2 days after the move. No drama, just gettin’ it done so we can get on with life. Now, that kind of sequence requires a suspension of life as we know it, but John and I have perfected our roles over many a move these past 11 years, so we don’t mess with what works. Of course all of this is happening during baseball season, so for the most part I am flying solo while my husband has to log some obscene hours at the ballpark (he works in the Washington Nationals front office). I can’t complain about that, because in the words of Sammy Sosa, “Baseball been very, very good to me.” What does suffer, unfortunately, is the undivided time I crave to be able to write well. I managed to eke out one article during this time and I’m glad I had the stones to tell my editor that I couldn’t take on more without quality suffering.
In the midst of the move and real estate pain-in-the-ass-back and forth of selling a home, we had 2 big health scares with Lou Lou. The first was a lump on her lip that turned out to be an adenocarcinoma. Yep, she had a cancerous tumor on her lip. She underwent surgery to remove the lump and had follow-up care with a veterinary oncologist. Good news: they got it all and her body/lymph node scans are clear. While this was happening (as if doggy cancer isn’t scary enough), she came up lame in her left hind leg. Diagnosis: partial CCL tear. For you non-dog people, that’s pretty much the doggy equivalent of a partial ACL tear in humans. Strict exercise restrictions and drugs came with the news, which could have been worse (a full tear would have meant surgery). So we dodged the bullet twice, but not without it taking a toll on me.
The fear I felt while caring for Lou Lou during these trips back and forth to numerous veterinarians was the worst kind of fear I’ve ever felt. I won’t go into much detail here (check Dog Mom Diaries soon for the full account), but suffice it to say that the sheer powerlessness of it all added onto the the thought of losing her to cancer really rocked me. I was already pissy and tired from the move and this all just sent me into a worry-cave. Some people find that writing their way through something difficult is cathartic. Not me. When the shit hits the fan, I get quiet and pull back. I tend to focus on the core things that really matter, so from Lou Lou’s lip surgery until she was able to come off exercise restriction, I tended to the basics. Feed and care for dog, self and spouse. Ignore they grey roots and the dog hair accumulated on every horizontal (and vertical!) surface. Drop the heavy reading and pick up an US magazine. Have a glass of wine and some Mc Donald’s fries. Whine a little bit on Facebook. Cry in the shower so the dog doesn’t get stressed from seeing you be an ugly crier. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Considering where I felt we were a few months ago, I think Drake says it best:
“Started from the bottom, now we here…started from the bottom, now my whole team fucking here.”
I have my dog, my husband, my family and my friends. Deep breath. The reset button gets pressed…now.