May 15

It’s Saturday, May 15 — the first weekend since the news. 

I drove to Pennsylvania today to play in a racquetball tournament. I signed up for the event months ago — the first event I’ve played since COVID. Today was a Saturday that I would have rather been a Julie Day, but maybe it helped to get out of the house and think about something else. 


In my internet reading before I drifted off last night, I found a few people who said that steroids could reduce the size of the tumor. Which got me into a tizzy about trying to get her to see an oncologist to prescribe them, or to prescribe something to have the same effect, or just to do anything, really. 


This. This is the most frustrating time.


The dead time. The days that pass when I can do nothing of substance for Julie.


When I know, but I don’t know. 


When I haven’t gotten an official diagnosis.


When I have no real treatment to to give her, except for the pain medicines prescribe by her vet. 


When we still do not know what our options really are, but we know we do not have time.


On Tuesday, the vet told the the biopsy results could be in on Thursday. 


On Thursday, I called and they said the results were not in yet, and that they usually take 3-5 days.


On Friday, I called and they said the results were not in yet, and that, actually, they can take 5-7 days. 


It is grating and agonizing. 


I know that this time does her no good. 


If only I had known sooner. 

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