---

Let’s dive back into the world of cancer, surgery, and “normal” life. We last left off with me discussing my pain management and how I have changed the way I present myself – cautiously.

Growing up, I was a wild child. I didn’t stop to think much; I’d go, go, go, which usually ended up in cuts, scrapes, and bruises – but surprisingly, no broken bones.

As I mentioned before, I’ve had a lot of stitches on my face, I call it my pre-facelift, because they are on my forehead, nose, and chin, so hopefully they will help me age well, ha!

So, for me to become more cautious is out of character, though I can also attribute caution to my previous profession, having worked in a brewery. See, many things can go wrong when working with CO2, pressurized tanks, and live yeast brinks (modified kegs for harvesting yeast). I didn’t work directly with live yeast, but if you accidentally disrupt it, you’re in for a rough time. In other words, my anxiety was through the roof, a lot.

In hindsight, I should have been on anti-anxiety meds long ago. I am a worrywart; I never want to be the reason something goes wrong, breaks, or gets lost, because growing up, I was often in trouble due to my actions. I broke a lot of things, hurt myself a lot, and was generally a mess physically and mentally. The funny thing is that I only remember a couple of instances, but the feeling of doing something wrong or being careless lingers for so much longer. Hell, I feel guilty writing this paragraph because it forces me to remember those feelings. And my parents were great! They played with us, taught us so many valuable things, and pushed us to be the best we could be. Confidence just did not come easily, and quite frankly, it still doesn’t. I surround myself with people I want to be like, which in turn makes me feel inferior; Oh, how our minds work..

I have made significant advances in my career, education, and personal life over the past decade, and I’m very proud of them. However, I still feel like a lost child, with no idea what I’m doing with my life.

Thank you for humoring me while I work through my childhood for the world to see. Let’s see, where were we?

After my body had healed from surgery, the next step was radiation. I had to undergo 5 weeks of radiation, Monday through Friday. I thought, Oh, this is simple, I just take my top off in front of three professionals with my fucked up tits, while my arms are up, and just lie back and hold my breath when commanded to through a microphone, because of course they are not in the room with me, cuz RADIATION. I hope you can feel the sarcasm drip from this paragraph.

For a while, everything was getting back to normal. I was going to work for a couple of hours a day, attend radiation therapy, and help out around the house much more. As I was healing, my best K9 friend, Sprout, was diminishing right before my eyes. He could no longer use the bathroom without help, standing and walking were painful, and delivering medication to him was a multi-daily fight.

I knew it was time to discuss our options with Lee. I knew we had to say goodbye, and Lee knew it too. We grasped for straws with our vet; we weren’t ready to let go. He gave us medication to try, but told us the end was near, and this was only a temporary relief.

We didn’t even make it past a couple of days before I broke down.

I could not watch this animal, who has been by my side for over a decade and I loved so much, suffer any longer because I was too spineless to let go.

After speaking with the vet, he assured us that the love we have for our animal is palpable and that it is normal to feel this way in this situation. We made the most difficult decision we have had to make as a couple and planned to let our sweet baby, Sprout, rest eternally.

As that day approached, I woke up early, gave Sprout the rest of his favorite snack (noodles from Joe’s Cajun Cafe in West Acres Mall), and sat down to snuggle and watch “All Dogs Go To Heaven.”

My only solace was that I knew he was going to heaven, and that my grandma and grandpa Ness were waiting for him to give him the best scratches and all the love; they both loved Sprout so much.

Lee came downstairs and told us it was time to go. I wrapped Sprout in his favorite blanky and slowly walked toward the car. I cried the whole way there while smothering him with love and kisses.

Upon our arrival, the staff was extremely kind and gentle. As the vet tech led us to an isolated room, we tried to hide our tears from the other, happier customers. This was the first time I had to put an animal down that was entirely mine & Lee’s, not a Ness family dog, but Krissy’s dog, and I was not doing well. I loved this dog more than anything.

Eleven years earlier (from that moment), I had gotten my baby boy at a shelter when I was living in Colorado. I brought him back to Minnesota when I moved home, where he became my sidekick for everything. If a dog could come, he’d be there. He wasn’t the prettiest dog or the most athletic, but he was playful, goofy, and loved me despite all my flaws. I loved him, even without his teeth; we had pulled those out six years before to give him a better and longer quality of life.

Finally, the veterinarian came back with a syringe full of anesthesia and softly told us it was time for Sprout to go to sleep. I burst into tears, hugging him and telling him he was a good boy, and that I would never forget him. Lee then took some time to say his goodbyes and smother him with love before the vet injected him.

Then, he was gone. So peaceful, so precious, so still. After composing ourselves, a vet tech led us outside, where they would help us bring Sprout out so we could bury him in a place he loved.  

After we got in our SUV, I lost it. How messed up is it that you arrive with a living animal and leave with a box? The plan was to drive to Lee’s hometown and bury Sprout in the grassland owned by his parents, where he could enjoy the fresh open air and beautiful sunsets. I couldn’t keep myself together and had no energy to make the day trip there and back, cuz cancer, and I couldn’t comprehend physically putting my dog in the ground.

Lee graciously went alone and, with the help of his dad, gave Sprout a beautiful final resting spot, complete with a little plaque.

A couple of days later, I met up with my dear friend, Whitney. She is the best! We have worked together at Drekker Brewing Company for around eight years, and we both share an immense love for our dogs; they were friends, too! She knew I was hurting, and being the loving and caring friend she is, she got me a pendant necklace with a Sprout’s face and name on it. I broke out in tears in the middle of Brewhalla, Drekker Brewing Company’s addition. I am so fortunate to have the people I do in my life.

Ok, this took me two days to write because it was hard to write about losing my best friend, my fur baby, my sweet boy Sprout.

I am stopping here today! Give your pets some love and kisses; they need it too.

I’ll catch you on the flip side,

-KB