Max's Surgery Is Tomorrow

Tomorrow morning we bring Max to the University of Minnesota Veterinary School to have surgery to remove as much of his meningioma as possible and begin the process of his enrollment in Dr. Pluhar's Canine Brain Tumor Research Study. I'm nervous and scared but trying not to come undone because Max would worry. He doesn't know what's happening tomorrow, which is a blessing because he doesn't have to deal with anxiety or fear leading up to the procedure. I get to do that for the both of us.

Kisses before bedtime.

He's been up in the night wanting to go outside or get a drink of water, or a snack, or just roam around the house, as far as I can tell. And we take turns getting up with him. I've been having difficulty getting any good rest because of the serial trips out of bed every night as well as the relentless dreams full of upsets, discomfort, fears, and frustrations. Driving a car that has faulty brakes, finding a cat and kittens who need help and not knowing how to help them, being in prison and away from all of the people who love and support me... I wake up exhausted. But then I remember that I will miss getting up to let Max out in the yard at 4:30 a.m. when he's not here to wake me up anymore, and I try to make it the best trip to the back door and back that I possibly can. 

This is how I interpret the responsibilities and heart of being a parent. The getting up when you're bone tired because someone who you love needs you. The trying to shield your little one from anything that might make them feel insecure or concerned about things they can't change. Looking at them standing in the doorway watching you and trying to imprint that memory as fully as possible because it's ordinary and precious and we don't want those moments never caught on a camera to be lost when time inevitably changes everything.