I am sitting here right now literally watching the hours tick by before my beloved Adah-Jane takes her last breath and I think I might being dying a little too. I am waiting on Good-bye and this is terrible. But wait…everyone dies right? At some point we will all have to say Good-bye. I should know that. End stage lymphoma or not people and puppy-dogs don’t live forever. My actual job is to hold the hands of people as they take their last breath. I get paid money to do that…I CHOOSE to do that. Sometimes my touch and my voice are the only good-bye they get. I provide comfort and compassion to the hysterical and terrified family members while pushing more pain medication through a SC butterfly. I break up fights between POA #1 and POA #2 about Mom’s money and belongings while poor Mom is laying in bed right beside them. (Just so you know…they CAN still hear you and it DOES bother them so take it outside mmmk??) I offer counselling and support throughout the whole process and then be there to the bitter end when the funeral director arrives to collect the empty shell that was once a human: my job ends and his begins. It’s kinda sick how his job depends on mine. I do this every single day….so why is this so hard? Is because for once there is no guessing game at when the end will be? Is it because of the career I have the disadvantage of knowing exactly what’s happening inside her furry cancer riddled body right now? Is it because when an elderly person passes on I know they have lived a full life and death is just the next step…but this is not fair: she’s only 8…she’s still a puppy. Or is because truth be told…I love my dog and watching her like this: afraid that she might be suffering and knowing that even if she was she wouldn’t let on lest I be sad? Whatever the reason, this is awful. Half of me wishes she would fall asleep and not wake up so I wouldn’t have to put her in the car one last time and walk her in the door of the vet one last time and then I wouldn’t have to know that after it’s over, after she’s gone…we will have to turn around and leave for home one last time without her. I don’t want to wait on good-bye. I don’t want good-bye to come at all.