Trying to believe in miracles

Yesterday, Max was feeling the effects of chemo.    He was tired, no appetite, little joy.   This morning, it seemed the same.   And then I mentioned a walk, and a ride, and suddenly his breakfast seemed marvelous and necessary and he ate every bite, ran for his toy and headed for the door.    Not long after we got home from our long ride and short walk, he escorted some deer to the edge of the property.   My dog was back to being my dog.

I check his gums obsessively.   Do they look the same as they did yesterday?  Are they just a touch paler?  Pale gums mean there’s a bleed somewhere.  Is his belly distended?  That’s another sign of an internal bleed.    Dr. Dave said his CBC count was down a touch, he’s slightly anemic, and wants to do blood work again next week.   I’m insisting that if it were truly something of concern, he wouldn’t wait two weeks to retest.    Max’s gums are a touch paler than I’d like, but still more red than pink.    His belly – I can’t really tell, since he was shaved for surgery, he’s been looking chubby to me anyway.

In my heart, I pray for a miracle.   I pray that nothing is going on that I can’t see.   I pray that he’s going to be the one to beat the odds.    Part of me is afraid to believe – and yet I still pray, I still send it out to the universe that this dog is healed, that this precious angel is fine, that there are not months left, but years.    I will speak the words, and write the words, and pray that the universe, the higher power, God, the Goddess, all will hear and make it so.

Let it be so.

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