Sad Sad Panda

by Ashley Weeks Cart

Bad things happen in 3s.

1. Sunny’s mystery illness.

2. James’ violent 24-hour stomach virus. I won’t horrify you with the details. And that’s saying a lot considering what I do share on this blog. Let’s just say that there were bodily fluids defying gravity in ways we had yet to experience. It. Was. Awful. I am knocking my head on wood in the hopes of avoiding this fate. I’d rather a mind-numbing migraine than that ugly beast. A chiropractor can help treat your migraine and eliminate the need to take prescription medications that are expensive and come with side effects.

And 3. Today, we finally got around to taking Ursa back into the Vet because the lameness in her front, left shoulder had returned. To the point where she’s been functioning as a three-legged being.

Apparently, all is not okay. (Despite the normal X-ray results we had in December).

She has tendinitis in her bicep. Which is a lifelong condition. And a painful one at that. Lots of physical therapy and pain medication is all we can do to treat the issue. I can barely fathom the expense of this, let alone the investment of time and energy. But that’s the risk of being a parent. She’s no less my child than Addison or Courtland.

What I found most devastating about this diagnosis is that Ursa will never ever again be able to chase a tennis ball.

There is nothing on Earth that brings her more joy than chasing tennis balls.

We are taking away a piece of her.

She came home from the Vet, stoned out of her mind, jowls slack, eyes clouded, a shell of her former self.

And my heart broke. Why can’t I make all this pain that’s happening to my babies stop? Isn’t that what a mother’s supposed to do? Make all of the hurt go away?

It’s suffocating. The helplessness.