It was the day of my first doctor visit in at least five
years. I hadn’t had any serious health
problems in over a decade, yet the people around you and what they are
experiencing gives you pause.
Whether
younger or older, you saw friends and family humbled by physical conditions
that came as a complete surprise…God knows I hate surprises. I’d had my blood pressure taken by a dental
tech of all people and damn near rang the bell.
I had an idea that maybe dental techs weren’t the best takers of such a crucial
survey, so I asked her to take it again at the end of my cleaning
appointment. I still got the ring-a-ding-ding. Denial took another couple of weeks before I
made an appointment with an M.D. There
was a seven-week wait for a slot, so I signed on and hoped that I would miraculously
become whole in that time. No such luck.
There’s stress in the most minor doctor visit. All around you are people hoping to extend
their stay on Terra Firma, as well as a few looking for a damned miracle. The anxiety is in the air. The treatment costs money, but the fear is
free.
Flash never had a problem going to the vet’s office. He loved meeting new people. He loved the kind words and the strokes
between his ears as they performed the various indignities that are endemic to
a physical check-up. He was also
invariably healthy.
He actually enjoyed going to the kennel when Kath and I
would take the children on vacation. He
had a dedicated run that was all his, allowing him to go outside whenever he
wanted, something I’m sure he wished he had at home. There was a playscape that he used daily,
where he could nuzzle other dogs and jump through kiddie pools, or just
practice gamesmanship with other alpha males. The last time Flash was kenneled,
they told me he didn’t have much patience for the pups that nipped at his
heels. The proprietor told me that ‘when
he’d had enough, he’d had enough.’ We
didn’t take him back anymore.
It made me happy that we’d taken the step to have a vet come
to the house for his passing, rather than taking Flash to a clinic. I knew it was going to be trying for me, but
it was possible that he would be in his happy place when he died. It was going to be trying for me no matter
where we did it.
Learning that I was pretty damned healthy, aside from a
little high blood pressure, put me in MY happy place. Seeing Flash at the back door when I came
home hours late lowered my blood pressure a bit. We’re both old dogs, but medical science is
working extra hard to find a way to get me into my dotage. His ‘dog years’ put him in the triple
digits.
He prowls the porch at dusk like an evangelist in a
Pentecostal revival. He barks his
message into the growing darkness demanding that the unrepentant change their
ways. The days are short. The end is coming soon.
No comments:
Post a Comment