Devastation.

Oh, how I wish I was at work instead of writing this post. How I wish I would wake up from this and find out it has all been a nightmare. How I wish I hadn't have even crawled out of bed this morning.

Several hours ago, Michael and I took Tessa for a second opinion regarding her enlarged lymph nodes. The antibiotics that the first vet gave us weren't doing any good as far as we could tell, and after my extensive internet research, I was really feeling like we needed to at least have some tests done. After talking about it on Saturday night, Michael and I decided that we would take Tess into our old vet (she used to go there as a small puppy) to see what they came up with. So I called first thing this morning and took the earliest appointment available.

Well, our worst fears were pretty much confirmed.

The vet did a needle aspiration of one of her lymph nodes, and looked at it under the microscope. After what seemed like an eternity, she came back in to tell us the bad news. She and another doctor both looked at the slide, and both agreed that the cells are consistent with lymphoma.

Deep down inside, I knew this was going to be the outcome. I knew it when I went to bed last night. I knew it when I woke up this morning. I knew it as I was driving her to the vet.

I just really, really didn't want it to be true.

Our dog. Our sweetheart, loveable, adorable, snuggly dog. With the best personality ever. Only 2 years old.

Cancer.

It's truly unbelievable. There are not enough tears in the world to convey what a blow this is to us. We don't have kids yet, so Tessa is our baby. We love her and treat her as such. It is so unbelievably sad to think we will not have her for as long as we thought we would. I am an emotional basketcase. And really, this is just the beginning of it all.

Simply put: We are devastated.

Lymphoma is incurable, so we know that no matter what treatment we ultimately decide to go with, our time is limited.

She's not even sick. She's still her normal, happy, energetic self. I try to be thankful for that, but at the same time, it actually makes dealing with this a little bit harder. I look at her little face and know she has no idea why I'm crying. And it's difficult to believe you have a terminally ill dog when she acts as if nothing is happening.

For now, I am trying to concentrate on the next steps. We are taking her in for surgery later this week. They are going to remove one of her enlarged lymph nodes to send it to pathology so that we can have a definitive diagnosis. As much as they said that they are pretty sure of (or "leaning toward") lymphoma, we won't actually know for absolute certain until the biopsy comes back. That will take approximately 1 week after the surgery. So we have more waiting in store for us.

Right now, we have to wait for her bloodwork and urinalysis to come back to make sure she is healthy enough to handle anesthesia. I can't imagine she won't be--she is one of the healthiest dogs out there.

Well, I guess she was the healthiest. Before this.

Needless to say, this is a very hard time for us. We didn't go into work after the appointment because it is too hard. I'm not even sure how I will move forward from here. I don't know how I'm going to go to work tomorrow. Or the next day. Or even the next day. How do we leave her alone at home, knowing that she's sick and we have such little time with her? Now, every moment is precious.

I just can't believe that this is happening to us. It's just one of those things you always try not to think about. Michael and I are the kind of people who are really grateful for the things we have. We have, on probably hundreds of occasions, sat back, looked at each other, and talked about how awesome Tessa is. How lucky we are to have her.

We have spent time contemplating where she would have ended up if she didn't end up with us. And we've been thankful that out of all the dogs in the world, we ended up with her. Because in our eyes, she is the perfect dog.

And now this.

We also have to tell the rest of our family members. I called my mom, and that was hard enough. Our family loves her as much as we do. Tessa comes to every family gathering on my side of the family. She's a true member of the family. My mom calls her the first grandbaby. I mean, seriously. She could not be more loved.

One thing is for sure: Life completely and totally sucks right now.

It's just not fair.