50 for 50: 2019

YEAR: 2019

AGE: Turned 49 on Nov. 6

LOCATION: SLC, Ramona Avenue

JAZZ'S RECORD: 50-32

SONGS I LIKED: "Alligator" by Of Monsters and Men; "Africa" by Weezer

TV SHOWS I WATCHED: "The Good Place"; "Game of Thrones"; "The Mandalorian"

MOVIES I SAW: "Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker"; "Avengers: Endgame"; "Toy Story 4"; "Midway"; "Ford v Ferrari"

After 48 posts, I wanted to write something unique about 2019, something not necessarily about parenting, childhood, moving, work, school, courtship, vacations, music, cars, games, sports, holidays, parties, weddings, or how fast time flies.

So, I'll write about the dog.

First, a 2019 primer: The year was surprisingly normal. We all traveled a great deal -- my year included trips to Denver, Missoula, Las Vegas, northern Wisconsin, Chicago, and San Diego. Michael started his sophomore year and Ben began eighth grade. We encountered a few bumps along the way, but nothing too difficult.

On the last day of November, however, we made an ER visit. Lori, the boys and I were OK; the dog, not so much.

Popcorn is a black lab/pointer mix we adopted as a puppy, so we knew little about her background. Labs are prone to getting lipomas -- fatty, tumor-like masses that are usually benign. Unfortunately, Popcorn is unusually lumpy.

We had a small mass removed from her ear during the summer, and none of the other lumps were too big, but around September, one on the back of her neck, intruding on her skull, started growing -- enormously, to the size of maybe two golf balls. We were planning to get it removed in December, because it was starting to become uncomfortable for her.

The timeline moved up a little bit ...

Popcorn was playing with two neighbor dogs, and one of them didn't quite bite her, but while wrestling, got his teeth onto the lipoma. It burst in a pus-filled, gooey mess. Not any blood really, just grossness. Nonetheless, the scene was jarring. I rushed Popcorn home, and Michael drove us to the pet ER a few miles away.

The dog wasn't really in pain and kind of took the whole experience in stride. She loved the attention she received at the vet -- she really is a sweet dog. The wound was drained completely and cleaned up; the bursting wasn't quite as serious as we feared. 

We scheduled an appointment with our normal vet to get it removed, and before we could take her, the lump filled up again with pus. I was able to drain it manually, with little mess and no blood. The lipoma was removed, but we struggled with trying to get a cone around her because it would go around the staples. We figured it out, and Popcorn was good with not trying to scratch at it. 

She was a happier dog after that, but then, a cyst on her right side began growing and causing her discomfort. Last summer, that one started leaking blood, and we had to take her back to the pet ER. This one was infected. Again, it was drained and cleaned up, and our normal vet removed it. She's been happier since. 

The original ER visit was nearly 12 months ago, and in a strange way, it seems recent and like from a completely different time. We're eight months into the pandemic, and what was once "normal" seems so distant. I've been looking at my blog posts

from last year and recalling trips, and I'm just astonished that we did things such as attend my Dad's 70th birthday party or stuff 40 people into a canopy tent at a swim meet -- or eat inside at a crowded restaurant. 

I don't know when normal will return. I bet we're wearing masks until 2022. And I wonder if the chaos with the dog that night was the universe saying to me, "You think this is chaos? Wait until you see what 2020 has in store!"

At least our family has had each other to get us through -- and that includes the lumpy black dog who lounges on the floor next to me as I've been writing these posts.