When the Worst Thing Happens After a Really Bad Thing Has Happened But, Oh, You’re Still Alive and Also Your Dog Loves You

Alternative title: Happy anniversary to us, Ruby-Mae!

“The women I love and admire for their strength and grace did not get that way because shit worked out. They got that way because shit went wrong and they handled it. They handled it a thousand different ways on a thousand different days, but they handled it. Those women are my superheroes.” — Elizabeth Gilbert

To tell the story of Ruby-Mae and what she has meant to me, this 8.3-pound heart healer, I’d have to go back to before she was born. I’d have to start, really, on the last day of February of 2019, when my husband was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of leukemia to get my heart ready for the specific healing it needed.

I’d have to skip through white-knuckling to make this story readable. I’d want to not linger on the challenges of that time because I like having it in the rearview mirror and also I don’t want to sound self-pitying as I know how very lucky we were and are. But I will suffice it to say it was a year-and-a-half of hospitalizations, doctor’s visits, blood transfusions, picking up and sorting medications, flushing John’s CVC line, quarantining for a hundred days, emergency…