Ignorance Is Bliss

This morning, in the cool, crisp Autumn air, Teddy strides out onto the deck to survey the yard and environs. He barks, with authority and indignance, at anyone and anything that can hear him. “My yard”.

He runs about, tracking new scents, watching and listening for any movements of animals or birds in the bushes behind the fence.He is a golden flash of beautiful fur and motion. He marches around the perimeter of the yard with an air of ownership and a sense of duty.

I watch from the windows of the family room, admiring his bravado and his focus. He doesn’t seem to know he has a tumor, that grows larger each day, on his forearm. He doesn’t focus on any difficulty it causes him in walking, climbing, or running.

I spend part of each day,(since May 8^th when we got the diagnosis from an Oncologist)telling myself NOT to think about it. To live ONE DAY AT A TIME, and block the negative thoughts of the future.

But my Brave Boy doesn’t let it ruin one minute for him. He is, as always, ever Joyful and In The Moment. He is full of whole-body wags, and happy food-related dances, and enthusiasm for the “toss the biscuit, Dad” games. He is the same, loving, generous, kind Spirit he has always been. The One who saved me when I was ill. The One who comforted me when I was sad. He is, remarkably, the Brave Boy who trudges up the stairs each time I climb them to deliver laundry to the second floor or just to brush my hair. He must be near me as much as possible; even when I bathe, he climbs the stairs and lies on the bathroom rug next to the shower. He seems to need, more than ever, to protect me and to stay close.

The old adage is that Ignorance is Bliss. I sort of wish that I didn’t know; but as his Mom, I don’t have that luxury. I had to find out if there was anything that could be done to stop the cancer.

So, I feed him a bit of Golden Paste( a mixture of organic Turmeric, Coconut Oil, and Cracked Pepper) in his food. I have eliminated lots of carbohydrates and grains from his diet. I pray a lot, and visualize strong White Light penetrating the tumor and making it stop growing. We have to do something, don’t we? I guess it helps us feel less powerless.

My Brave Boy is sleeping about eight feet away from me as I write this. He teaches me so much about acceptance, living in the moment, and true courage each day. I was a different person before I knew. I wish I didn’t know.