Waking Up the Ghost Limb and Putting Sully to Sleep

I thought I’d poke my head into the forum for a few minutes to update current happenings and apologize again for being absent and not responding to the nice comments and emails left for me. I feel badly that so many of you reached out to me and that I’ve obtained new subscribers and yet have been unable to let you know how much I appreciate all of you sticking by me. I just haven’t had it in me to write. Know that you are all in my thoughts and as soon as I can ‘push’ myself past what is going on with me I will be back. I fully intend on responding to each and every one as soon as I’m able.

Anyone who’s followed my post or had personal conversations with me know that pain is not something I deal with well. Happiness and anger…yes. Pain…not so much. I’ve had a belly-full of it in my lifetime and whenever faced with difficult situations that make me sad or uncomfortable automatically revert to being a clown and joking it away, or getting pissed and finding solace in sarcasm. Sadly, I can do neither right now and feel a bit lost as to how to cope with this. My heart is broken, I’m clinging to the edge of my sanity by my fingernails, and haven’t been able to even use the luxury of my writing as an escape. This whole ordeal is becoming more taxing then even I feared it would be.

The Prednisone the vet prescribed for Sully didn’t take as we hoped. Within days it had an adverse effect on his health and began making him sicker than the cancer already was. My husband and I both have had many sleepless nights being awakened by him every half hour on the hour needing to go outside. Bless his heart he tries to make it every time, but unfortunately doesn’t always manage. During the day my husband gets a reprieve from this madness, but of course I’m not that fortunate as I’m home with him. Round the clock I am letting him in and out, cleaning up disturbing amounts of diarrea and vomit from this illness, and sobbing uncontrollably from emotional and physical weariness. It’s tearing me down and tearing me apart. We have finally accepted that this is something that will not just go away…however much we’ve tried to kid ourselves…and have made the difficult decision to let him go. We have an appointment this Saturday to have him euthanized. We will be bringing him home after and placing him here in the yard that he loved so much. I fear that day, for I know as we leave here that morning it will be the last that I can put my arms around him, nuzzle his mug, ask him for sugar and receive sloppy kisses, and that I will never again be greeted by his face in the picture window as my husband and I pull down the drive. I am scared and asked my husband who will take care of him in the afterlife. He knows no one but us. He assures me there will be those that will be there for him. Yes, I believe dogs go to heaven too.

I’m hoping that once this is over I can resume a somewhat normal life and my writing again. Without it I feel like a person with a ghost-limb. My writing is an appendage of me, and being unable to express myself that way is like losing a limb but still having the sensation it’s still there. I’m currently doing all I can to get back there. The severe headaches I’ve been battling were not due to my TMJ Disorder flairing up as I suspected, but was rather a bad case of Sinusitis I didn’t even realize I had till I started experiencing cold symptoms from congestion caused by drainage. I had to see the local doc who prescribed me antibiotics, painkillers, and nasal spray to clear it up, which I’ve been diligent about taking. Also, he upped the dose of my antidepressants as high as he could go with it, so I’m hoping that these few things will improve my health and mood to get me over this tremendous hump. And prayer. I could use a little love my way right now. 

I hope all of you are doing well. I know so many of you personally now that I’m mindful that each of you have your own crosses to bear, and wonder how you’re faring. I’ve especially been concerned about those of you who live on or near the coast where the hurricane hit. I pray all of you are safe and never suffered any personal losses. Remember to pray for those who have. If I don’t get back to you sooner my wish is for all of you to have a wonderful Labor Day weekend, filled with family, friends, and fun. Godspeed. I love you all. 

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22 Comments on “Waking Up the Ghost Limb and Putting Sully to Sleep”

  1. Hug, hug, hug and much sympathy … and what I wrote in the other post’s comment. I can’t think of much else to say, mostly because I’m crying again. I hesitate to share this link because I don’t want it to be interpreted as a self-serving blogger move, but writing this post helped me a lot – a few fond memories of my “daughter” in the spirit of trying to help you cope … because even though I’m reading this months later, I know it’s still hard to cope … and sometimes we never really can fully cope with the loss of a dear, dear furry family member … I hope you’re doing okay, even though – as weird as you might find it – I just found your wonderful blog by way of Renee … http://bighappynothing.wordpress.com/2010/06/16/pawprints/

  2. The Hook says:

    I know you’re in agony right now, but at least you have good memories to fall back on.

    • Wonderful memories.
      I don’t know how you do it my friend, but you just managed to catch up on all my previous posts. What, are you a multi-tasking Super Hero? I can’t even get around to reply to all my comments. Wow! I’m not worthy….Ha.ha.

  3. There are not many things in life that are as powerful as the unconditional love a dog has for it’s humans and the love we in turn give to our dogs. You have shown that love by nursing Sully and continue to show it by allowing him to go play with all of our canine angels who went before him. As painful as it is now, and as loud as the silence becomes, somehow we always find the strength to open up our hearts and let another wagging tail back in. So nice you will always have him near you. There is really no way to sugar coat what you have before you so I’ll just say — it sucks!!!!! Just know you have a lot of dog people thinking about you and your family. Thank you for having the courage to write about it, I’m sure your keyboard is very wet – I know mine is.

    • I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to reply to the thoughtful comment left by you. I have been completely out of touch with reality it seems here lately, and am only now trying to get back some normalcy to my life. Depression hit me hard, and dealing with this…well, you’re right…it sucks! Sadly, my husband was unable to let our baby go and he’s still fighting through the illness, but he is feeling much better than he was with the new meds the vet put him on, so it’s not taking the toll on all of us the way it was. I so appreciate your stopping by, saying hello, and extending your well wishes my way. It meant a lot to me.

  4. […] So, when I read about her beloved dog Sully having cancer and facing what would be his last summer with her, I was incredibly sad. But yesterday her news was even worse; Sully is not responding to his Prednisone and will have to take his final bow in this world Saturday, in order to stop his suffering. I’m posting links to both her moving tribute to her amazing Sully, and also to yesterday’s post. I defy you to read and not join in her weeping. https://pissykittyslitterbox.com/2011/08/20/sullys-last-summer/https://pissykittyslitterbox.com/2011/08/31/waking-up-the-ghost-limb-and-putting-sully-to-sleep/ […]

    • I’m incredibly behind on my replies, but wanted to let you know that I did read your comment and not only appreciated it, but was touched by the pingback left for me. I’m currently attempting to try and fix this feeling of brokenness inside and move forward, and thought it might help by extending my thanks to the community that has been so supportive of me in my time of need. I also thought you would like to know that my husband was unable to let Sully go, and the doctor prescribe something different for him and it is making him more comfortable now. Today he is off in the city with daddy in his pickup and doing better than expected. I know it’s just a matter of time, of course, but for now we’re dealing with it much better. Thank you so much for the empathy extended me. It did not go unnoticed.

  5. Sending you warming hugs in thought. We just recently lost one of our dogs, and don’t even know why, so I can relate to the grief you feel (somewhat). I am here when you need to talk. Love ya. Hope things start getting better soon.

  6. 4evered says:

    Hugs to you thru cyber space, Lou. Ask the vet to let you stay with your Sully til the end. They do that for you some places. If you can’t do it, that’s ok, they will let you have your moments til your ready to let him go. Good luck and many hugs to you and hubby and Sully.

    • I know I’m a little late in my reply but wanted to let you know that I received your well wishes and it meant a lot to me. I also thought I’d let you know that although my husband wasn’t able to let Sully go yet, the vet did manage to find something to ease his discomfort without side affects, and for now he’s still with us and doing much better. Yes, we are both planning to be present when we let him go, and hopefully I’ll be strong enough by then to endure the inevitable. Thanks again for the cyber hugs. I really appreciated them.

  7. If heaven would not be heaven for you without Sully, then I am confident that he will be there. My sympathies to you on the loss of your beloved pet. I am sending up a prayer right now!
    Jodi

  8. I’ve been away much of August so am just catching up again. I’m so sorry you’ve finally reached this point. My prayers will be with all of you throughout the coming weekend. I know how horrendously difficult this is, but be comforted that Sully has been surrounded by your love all his life and will leave here still feeling it.

    Wishing you peace and comfort…

  9. Kim says:

    ****HUGS*****

  10. Jodi Lea says:

    Prayers & hugs to you, hubby & Sully. Grieving for someone you love feels unbearable and overwhelming, but we somehow make it past the raw pain. It is truly Hell, and I’m sorry you are having to deal with this.

  11. When you are ready to come back we will welcome you with open arms. At the moment we are sending lots of love your way at this awful time. Cyber hugs from afar.

  12. Renee Mason says:

    Godspeed and God bless, Lou and Sully.

    • So many comments left for me, and I’m attempting to try and touch base with everyone at least once. I know I’m a little late in my replies but wanted to thank you personally for your well wishes and prayers. The hubby couldn’t let Sullty go, but he is starting to feel a bit better. Perhaps God is waiting till I have the strength to deal with it, I don’t know. Anyway, thanks for extending your warm words, Renee. I appreciated them.

  13. Aw, Lou. I had tears in my eyes as I read this, and they haven’t left yet. I wish I could do anything but send my love and support, but that is, sadly, all I can do. *hugs*

    • I’m sorry my reply has taken so long in getting to you. It’s been a bad month for me, Deb. I didn’t think I was going to pull through. I wanted you to know though that I did read your comment left me and it meant a lot. Knowing I have tons of support has helped tremendously. Sully is still with us. Doug hasn’t been able to let him go. He is doing better though, so that is a blessing. Just trying to stay strong in spite of the inevitable. Anyway, thanks for being a friend and stopping by to give me a well-needed hug.

  14. mairedubhtx says:

    I’m so sorry things have not worked out and Sully will be put to sleep. My heart aches for you.

  15. Bren says:

    My heart cries for you in what you are about to do. I know it’s hard for I’ve been there myself, too many times. Just know you did everything you could. Hold him in your arms as he sleeps. Cherish the memories and no he will no longer be in pain. We’re hear for you. God bless your family and poor lil Sully. So terribly sad. ~hugs~ my friend.