A bittersweet lifeline: the price of help in a time of crisis
As much as I wanted to keep my recent ex out of our lives, life had other plans. Our breakup was still fresh, and I was determined to establish boundaries and create distance between us for the sake of my emotional well-being.
I had booked a trip to Mauritius for myself and the kids when our dog, Bismarck fell ill. The vet diagnosed him with Cushing’s disease—a condition characterized by an overproduction of cortisol, leading to organ damage. Symptoms included hair loss, excessive water drinking, panting, and painful bouts of pancreatitis requiring hospitalization and IV treatment. This made me wonder if excess cortisol was the cause of my frozen shoulder.
Despite my craving for warmth and sunshine, I didn’t cancel our trip. However, while in Mauritius, I received a distressing call from the dog boarding house in the Swiss Alps.
"Bismarck is really sick," the caretaker said. "He had a seizure and he can barely walk."
"Please take him to the vet for an IV."
"The local vet on duty isn’t equipped for small animals, only cows."
"What do I do?"
"There’s a clinic in Thun, an hour's drive. If you can arrange for someone to take him there, they might be able to help."
Desperate and unable to find anyone else, I swallowed my pride and contacted my ex. It was a difficult decision, particularly during this sensitive time as I tried to establish a new normal for my children and me. But Bismarck’s dire condition left me no choice.
I offered my ex 500 Swiss francs (the same in US dollars) to take Bismarck to the clinic, turning the request into a transaction rather than a favor. I didn’t want to rely on his goodwill or friendship.
His immediate acceptance of the payment, without even a token protest or offer to help out of friendship, confirmed my fears about the current state of our relationship. It was a stark reminder that the friendship we once shared had diminished significantly.
In this one phone call, the complex history and strained present of our relationship came into sharp focus. It was bittersweet - I secured the help Bismarck needed, but at the cost of confronting painful realities about the people in my life.
Despite being rushed to the clinic that night, Bismarck passed away at the age of 12. The loss cast a shadow over our vacation, leaving us enveloped in an immense sadness.