
April 9th, 2018 is a day that lives in my nightmares. A day that started so routinely i don’t even remember the morning but I’ll never forget the after noon hours. She didn’t feel up to working out but she seemed and looked great all things considered. Duncan was groomed and I am so glad I thought to finally take his picture with my mom. We talked about her joining us at training and her response was that she’d love to, she just wished she had more time. One year later and I still can’t help but wonder if she knew what was to come just a few, short hours later. That evening i went out and came back around 9 to find out she had been having trouble breathing. We were headed to the ER once again. Only this time the situation was so dire that I wouldn’t be the one driving. I asked if she wanted me to go with her and all she could manage was a head nod. I spent our $6k ride desperately trying to talk to her between breathing treatments like things were normal. She started off incoherent but seemed to come back to us. I showed her pics of the dogs and read her your thoughtful and encouraging comments. The arrival and hours following were a blur of nurses hooking her up to every machine imaginable, her uncharacteristic complaints and me, curled up in a chair in the corner, nauseated by the sight of blood and trying to convince her she could withstand everything they asked of her. Eventually the doctor, with the worst possible bedside manner asked if there was any other family with us and I told him her husband, sister and my boyfriend were in the waiting room waiting for permission to see her. He then proceeded to tell me, all alone, that her numbers weren’t looking good and she wasn’t going to make it. I had heard it before and I didn’t believe him. As soon as i was allowed, i went to the waiting room to give my dad and aunt some time with her. 🖤
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