Elsa Noel

How Do You Prepare for Goodbye?

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In January our 12 year old Golden Retriever Elsa, went in for an ultrasound. Her numbers were funky in a recent blood draw and something was just off. Lo and behold, the doctors found a large mass inside of her liver…and my heart sank. I felt somewhat hopeful though, as we discussed ‘plans’ and she was put on a liver medication. Her spirits actually seemed to improve, and every day the past couple of months when I’ve came home, she has hopped up wagging her tail and bringing me a toy… We actually began to think that maybe the mass was benign, and we would find out that she was okay!

The past few weeks though, I began to notice how hard it was for her to get up from a laying position, or when using the bathroom outside… and then she even began to collapse and fall all the way down. It was getting hard, and I didn’t understand why. This past Sunday the weather finally turned nice, I’m talking 60 degrees with sunshine nice, and we all wanted to go for a hike. I was hesitant to bring her…she just seemed a little off to me and pretty weak. I knew she had an ultrasound recheck the next day (Monday, March 2nd) so that brought me some peace of mind; and when she hopped up from our bedroom floor and came to the laundry room (where her leash is) I could tell she wanted to go. She has always known when we are leaving and I am certain she even knows when we are leaving to do things that SHE may be allowed to do too. I smiled and her and said, “Okay, Elsa, let’s go for a hike.”

We arrived at Creasy Mahan Nature Preserve in Goshen, KY (20 minutes away) and boy was it beautiful. Woods and open fields surrounded us, and Elsa had SUCH a pep in her step upon leaving the car. She trotted down the flat trails, and even got super excited about a giant stick. When she spotted some water, that was game on for her, so I let her wade slowly in and sure enough, she happily laid down, as she always has in open bodies of water, looking so so happy and in her element.

We did a casual mile loop, nothing too strenuous or high impact, but I knew as the night went on that something was drastically wrong with Elsa. She slept for a good long while, which was to be expected, but whenever it was time for her to get up and go outside to potty…she just couldn’t do it. In a tizzy I texted my mom, as I always do when I need help or prayer.. and she prayed me through the night. When 6 o’clock this morning came around, she hadn’t budged from where she started her night’s sleep. I tried to get her up to go outside and she collapsed. I managed to somehow get her to the back deck, (in the pouring rain) and she collapsed again. This time, with her head hung low and panting profusely. I ran inside to wake Asa and my poor husband came sprinting out in his boxer shorts (in the pouring rain!) to carry her to the grass….

The vet appointment this afternoon came and went… Before going I texted Dr. Thompson a video of her on our bedroom floor with the words, “This isn’t good, Matt…” “She looks tired,” he replied. “Yes..she is,” I said. My husband and the kids were there with me at the appointment and we waited quietly for the doctor doing the ultrasound to tell us what she saw. Sure enough, her cancer has spread—spleen, lymph nodes, more in the liver, and most likely to the chest and lungs. Her breathing is so labored and she has quite a bit of fluid in her stomach/abdomen. She went from 0-100 health wise in less than 24 hours and I just cannot believe it.

It happened so fast.

My family, Elsa and I went into a room and tears streamed down my face as I listened to our vet. I knew before we got there that this was going to be “it” for her. I could see it in her eyes, succumbing to the cancer, to the fatigue we never even knew she had (that perhaps she also didn’t realize was there?) “24-48 hours max is what I would give this,” he quietly said. I of course had the option to say goodbye then and there, but he knew that’s not me. He told us his schedule and we agreed that we wanted him to come to the house Tuesday evening….for her to be at home, like her brother Humphrey was (almost exactly a year ago…..) When grief hits and I am supposed to mourn, I go into overdrive instead. I clean the house and focus on other things, almost like a machine not knowing how to program off. I know when he walks through our front door that I am going to lose it……………it will be then, that it hits me.

It’ll all come crashing down that I am losing MY best friend. The girl who has been by my side for twelve long (and too short) years. I chose her from a gigantic litter of Goldens and the whole way home, she rode on my lap in silence. She went everywhere with me… last minute trips to Michigan, 6 hours in the car, never making a peep. She’s been THE best trail dog, sprinting ahead and always coming back. She has swam in so many lakes, and rivers, and ponds…and that is how I will always remember her—skimming the water, gracefully, eloquently, so beautifully. She stayed by Humphrey’s side the entire time he was passing… she never budged, not even once; and she was never the cuddly type with him. She knew he was leaving her…and now I just pray she can feel us do the same (and that Emma will help HER.)

(Oh Lord, please help Emma. We’ve never had only ONE dog. She has felt our sadness today and our high emotions…I feel so bad for her and so thankful at the same time. She is our Healer, and I am praying she can remain strong during this incredibly difficult, almost impossible, time.)

I wish I had more of a positive post to write, but this is my reality. ‘Here we go again,’ is pretty much how I am feeling. It just doesn’t feel right that we lost our beloved Humphrey one year ago, and now we are losing his sister too. The only thing giving me an ounce of hope is the fact that I DO believe that all dogs DO go to Heaven, and that Humphrey will be the FIRST one greeting her at the gates. I am positive they will do warp mode together, running and sprinting and tumbling until they’re ready for a nap at our family’s future Heavenly home. I think it will have a large front porch, where Humphrey can sun bathe (his happy place) and there will be a crystal clear lake real close by for Elsa to swim in all day if she wants.

I may not feel ready, but Elsa girl I think you are. You have given us the MOST incredible and blessed twelve years with you…never once doing ANYTHING wrong. It is because of you that I will forever have a Golden Retriever, and I thank you for loving my second one… our Emma Rose. My how she loves and adores you too. Thank you for your patience, grace, gentle spirit, and love. All of these years…I have felt SO loved by YOU.

Update: Elsa passed on her own Tuesday morning March 3rd, some time between 6:30 and 7am. I had kissed her at 6:30 and noticed her breathing had slowed tremendously. I had a feeling it was time. Within a half hour, she was gone. I am thankful the Lord took her quietly and I didn’t have to make that decision for her. Our sweet, wonderful Elsa. I pray you felt how loved you are.

Below is a slideshow of recent pictures of our Elsa Girl…mostly from October through current. Thank you for being with us on this journey.


I'll Keep Climbing Anyway

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The last few years I haven’t made resolutions as much as I have prayed about a WORD for the year. This year as I was browsing Pinterest, I came to a quote that had CLIMB at the top of it, and this as the text:

“You are exactly where you are meant to be right now. Do not compare your journey to anyone else’s; yours is a WILDLY different journey up an entirely different mountain. If you were meant to be higher up your mountain, you would be. There might be more you need to learn from this spot before you can keep climbing. There might be something you need to see HERE before you continue forward. Maybe you are simply meant to REST before the journey ahead. Regardless of where you are on your path, know that the rest of your story will unfold when it is time. Until then, enjoy your beautifully unique CLIMB.

-Walk the Earth

This quote spoke to me on such a real level. So much so, that I shared with my high school students and several asked me for a print out of it; I think the words are so raw and relatable to SO many. As a full time teacher and small business(es) owner, I tend to easily become fairly (very) overwhelmed and stressed. As an entrepreneur I am always striving for ways to bring in extra income, and for my side jobs to be successful. As the New Year approached, I thought about having ‘grow’ or ‘succeed’ be my words for the upcoming year…and then I realized that felt like WAY too much pressure. My husband thought that I really needed to pray on the notion of ‘rest…’ I am pretty constantly go, go, going in my mind and with my work. And while I do agree with that, I DO need to rest more and be able to shut off my work mode; I think that can apply to the above quote. “Maybe you are simply meant to rest before the journey ahead…” Instead of comparing my journey to others’ this year I am really going to strive to simply embrace the climb, and that goes for ALL areas of my life.

Speaking of the Climb and Life Lately…

You know we basically have a zoo: two dogs, three cats, two horses, and two kids…(do kids count?) Therefore, there will literally ALWAYS be something going on, good and bad. In the past few months, our Golden Retriever started having some urine issues. She is a dog who never had more than two accidents in all of her life, so it was pretty concerning…More than a handful of UTI laters, we decided to have her blood work checked, and God bless our veterinarian, (shout out to Dr. Matt Thompson) for sitting down with me (and calling my husband) to explain his thoughts and what the numbers showed. Ultimately we all concluded that an ultrasound was the safest route to go so that we could see the big picture. I knew before going into the appointment, we would SEE something. I just knew in my heart, maybe because I’m often a ‘worst case scenario’ girl, that there would be. As Elsa lay on her back, acting like an angel per usual, I prayed I would be able to handle the outcome. They looked at her spleen, bladder, kidneys, and then they got to the liver—I heard the word ‘mass’ and tears instantly quietly started to stream. I stroked Elsa’s face and told her over and over what a good and wonderful girl she is. When it was all said and done, Dr. Thompson and I went to the office and talked. He knows me so well that he came up with a plan, and I was fully confident in everything that he said. Our Chocolate Lab Humphrey was diagnosed last Valentine’s Day and I sobbed on the floor of the vet clinic. This year I sat silently, petting Elsa’s head, feeling as though for whatever reason, I needed to be strong for her. The tears will come. Lord help me, I know that they will come.

SO…
In a few weeks, we will do another ultrasound of Elsa’s liver. It could be benign (you know I doubt that…) or it will have grown, and possibly even spread. I am praying that I can handle all of this in stride. “There might be more you need to learn from this spot before you can keep climbing…” I’m not sure what I’m supposed to learn in this season, but I will continue to pray about it and trust that though the tears may be plentiful, the joy will also abound. Elsa isn’t gone yet. I will love her every single second of every single day; I plan on kissing her goodnight every night, and thanking her for being strong.

What does ‘climb’ mean to you? What journey are you currently embarking on? Are you in a season of rest and quiet right now…? Not really sure where 2020 will take you? Have you heard of Christian author Lara Casey? She wrote a new book titled Cultivate and I absolutely love what she wrote here:

…as I’ve observed my garden over the years, I have noticed something. In the seasons, we find balance. The seasons allow my garden to rest and grow at just the right time, and it’s the same with our lives. The seasons teach us how to do life well, revealing a life-giving rhythm; we flourish through intentional periods of STILLNESS, growth, hard work, AND REST. We need this rhythm in our days, in our weeks, and in our everything.”

Climbing can look different to all of us. But to me, it means trusting where my feet go. If some days my feet are absolutely still and firmly going nowhere, I can lift my arms and ask Him to carry me. I don’t need to skip steps because there truly is a process; God designed my climb with extreme wisdom and absolute care. Even though many days will undoubtedly be tough, I know that I NEED to trust His process.

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