Weekly Update, part 1
Apr. 28th, 2012 12:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
outsdrRight.
It was two weekends ago I made the decision to make a decision about Ike. I think it was Monday evening that I truly made up my mind, after discussing it with Andy, and Tuesday after work I went in and talked to my vet about it. Naturally, she was having a vaccination clinic that week, so there was a line (which is unusual for her place) but she saw me and asked me if I needed something for Ike.
And suddenly, I could not talk. I just shook my head no. So she asked me if he was okay. Again, all I could do was shake my head no.
Five minutes later, she'd managed to bundle everyone into various rooms or away and we had the waiting room to ourselves. I took a deep breathe and managed to whisper that it was time. And then, she suddenly couldn't talk. I told her how bad he'd gotten, and other things that I don't really recall. She asked me if it needed done right away, and I said no, I was hoping we could do it Sunday evening at 6 p.m. She said that would be fine.
Monday night I had swung by the vet hospital that does small animal cremations, and asked them about what was needed and what the price was. A solo cremation with remains returned was $210; an appointment was not needed, just bring the animal by, and the remains were returned in a temporary urn, but they had a number of lovely urns available for special order and purchase, for which the prices were not listed. That's never a good sign.
Many were made out of mahogany. That's not a good sign for being inexpensive, either.
I told Jewel (my vet- she's about five foot tall, five foot round, red face and red hair. I secretly hope her middle name is Ruby) about the cremation guidelines, and told her I still wasn't 100% sure we were doing it, but I was 99% sure. If she didn't hear from me before Sunday at 6 p.m., we were doing it.
The rest of the week is kind of a blur- my thoughts were mostly taken up by Ike. I called my dad Tuesday night and told him what I had decided to do. Actually, I told him I had made a decision, and then, once again, I could not speak. Being my father, he knew immediately what I was referring to, and spoke for me. We cut the conversation short because Ike wandered out onto the porch (I was sitting in the yard) tried to step off the side to get to me, then sat down in his own poop.
You can see why I was 99% sure.
I didn't tell anyone at the newspaper about this. See, there's this one coworker at the newspaper that brings SO MUCH DRAMA to the office that it's simply overwhelming. The few times I am inclined to share small tidbits of my life, I'm so overshadowed by whatever OMG thing is happening to her, I just stay quiet. I've made it very plain over the years that I don't want to hear it, but she cannot be quiet.
(For instance, Thursday morning there was no one else in the office, so she walked over to me and said, "So, my neighbors bought the house we're renting and walked over last night to tell us we had 30 days to get out." I didn't even look up at her as I flatly said, "You realize that I simply do not care?" She said, "I know, but I'm telling you anyway because that's what I do. Jerk." Then she went back to her desk and said, "Thanks for caring." Harsh, but it was necessary that I said what I did. And for the rest of the day she was pleasant and polite to me and, most importantly, only discussed work related matters.)
I had a meeting with my boss at the hotel Wednesday night, and I did mention it to her, because we were listing over all the things I needed to do but which I would not be able to get to until mid-May at the earliest, because of all that was going on, including Ike. I asked her to PLEASE not tell anyone about my dog or my dad, because I handle things MUCH better when no one is fawning over me.
She also made me Front Desk Manager officially. Which means I keep doing everything I already do for the same amount of money but now I have an official title. Which is fine.
Anyway, the point I was getting at was that no one at the newspaper office knew about Ike, which made it difficult to talk to Jewel on the phone when she called me Wednesday morning with one last option to try with him. See, one of the deciding factors for putting down Ike was that the manufacturer of the medicine he's been taking for years that does him so much good, Duramaxx, had made a factory mistake that was so big, there was no longer any medicine available and they did not know when there would be any available. Jewel had been looking for alternatives, but we'd tried so many things in the past without any success that I really didn't have much hope. However, she'd found out about a medicine that he could start taking now, and if it helped, continue him on when the Duramaxx ran out. I told her it was worth a shot, but that I wasn't going to get my hopes up. I was pretty sure Ike had used up all his miracles.
The drug? Neurontin. The same stuff I take for my hands.
The dosage for Ike would be 150 mgs daily. I went home at lunch and gave him his first dose. She said we'd see any results within two days, so I wanted to start right away. I'd been running home at lunch time all week anyway, to get him outside to pee. He'd been dribbling a lot, and sometimes I forgot to put his diaper on him before I left for work. (The Safeway check out girl, bless her, never batted an eye when I bought maxi-pads.)
It was nice to have those few extra minutes with him too. Always did my heart good to watch him wake up, focus on me, and get happy. What was not so fun was watching him struggle to stay upright while urinating.
So, the weekend comes. The regular overnight gal is working my shift for me Friday night, so I can go in and do other things that need done. The hotel is, frankly, a mess. Financially it's on shaky ground, and so much was ignored while the divorce of the owners was being settled, that there's a LOT of catching up to do. We put out what fires we can, big and small, as they flare up.
I don't remember Saturday.
Saturday night, I wrote my column. The Neurontin had had no affect on Ike, which is sadly what I expected.
The column, as usual, took shape slowly. To me, writing a column is a lot like making a clay sculpture, or a painting. I write parts of it, go back and add to other parts and take away some, too; find a paragraph at the end that can refer to an earlier paragraph or item, and smooth and polish it once it's all fleshed out, until finally I'm satisfied with the end result, if not necessarily happy.
What's odd about this column is that I had the headline written first. It came to me in the middle of the week, and I was terrified I'd forget it. But those four lines kept playing through my head, and kept my headline alive:
This is the way the world ends;
This is the way the world ends;
This is the way the world ends;
Not with a bang but a whimper.
And in my head thoughts would come and go talking of Michelangelo ...
It was two weekends ago I made the decision to make a decision about Ike. I think it was Monday evening that I truly made up my mind, after discussing it with Andy, and Tuesday after work I went in and talked to my vet about it. Naturally, she was having a vaccination clinic that week, so there was a line (which is unusual for her place) but she saw me and asked me if I needed something for Ike.
And suddenly, I could not talk. I just shook my head no. So she asked me if he was okay. Again, all I could do was shake my head no.
Five minutes later, she'd managed to bundle everyone into various rooms or away and we had the waiting room to ourselves. I took a deep breathe and managed to whisper that it was time. And then, she suddenly couldn't talk. I told her how bad he'd gotten, and other things that I don't really recall. She asked me if it needed done right away, and I said no, I was hoping we could do it Sunday evening at 6 p.m. She said that would be fine.
Monday night I had swung by the vet hospital that does small animal cremations, and asked them about what was needed and what the price was. A solo cremation with remains returned was $210; an appointment was not needed, just bring the animal by, and the remains were returned in a temporary urn, but they had a number of lovely urns available for special order and purchase, for which the prices were not listed. That's never a good sign.
Many were made out of mahogany. That's not a good sign for being inexpensive, either.
I told Jewel (my vet- she's about five foot tall, five foot round, red face and red hair. I secretly hope her middle name is Ruby) about the cremation guidelines, and told her I still wasn't 100% sure we were doing it, but I was 99% sure. If she didn't hear from me before Sunday at 6 p.m., we were doing it.
The rest of the week is kind of a blur- my thoughts were mostly taken up by Ike. I called my dad Tuesday night and told him what I had decided to do. Actually, I told him I had made a decision, and then, once again, I could not speak. Being my father, he knew immediately what I was referring to, and spoke for me. We cut the conversation short because Ike wandered out onto the porch (I was sitting in the yard) tried to step off the side to get to me, then sat down in his own poop.
You can see why I was 99% sure.
I didn't tell anyone at the newspaper about this. See, there's this one coworker at the newspaper that brings SO MUCH DRAMA to the office that it's simply overwhelming. The few times I am inclined to share small tidbits of my life, I'm so overshadowed by whatever OMG thing is happening to her, I just stay quiet. I've made it very plain over the years that I don't want to hear it, but she cannot be quiet.
(For instance, Thursday morning there was no one else in the office, so she walked over to me and said, "So, my neighbors bought the house we're renting and walked over last night to tell us we had 30 days to get out." I didn't even look up at her as I flatly said, "You realize that I simply do not care?" She said, "I know, but I'm telling you anyway because that's what I do. Jerk." Then she went back to her desk and said, "Thanks for caring." Harsh, but it was necessary that I said what I did. And for the rest of the day she was pleasant and polite to me and, most importantly, only discussed work related matters.)
I had a meeting with my boss at the hotel Wednesday night, and I did mention it to her, because we were listing over all the things I needed to do but which I would not be able to get to until mid-May at the earliest, because of all that was going on, including Ike. I asked her to PLEASE not tell anyone about my dog or my dad, because I handle things MUCH better when no one is fawning over me.
She also made me Front Desk Manager officially. Which means I keep doing everything I already do for the same amount of money but now I have an official title. Which is fine.
Anyway, the point I was getting at was that no one at the newspaper office knew about Ike, which made it difficult to talk to Jewel on the phone when she called me Wednesday morning with one last option to try with him. See, one of the deciding factors for putting down Ike was that the manufacturer of the medicine he's been taking for years that does him so much good, Duramaxx, had made a factory mistake that was so big, there was no longer any medicine available and they did not know when there would be any available. Jewel had been looking for alternatives, but we'd tried so many things in the past without any success that I really didn't have much hope. However, she'd found out about a medicine that he could start taking now, and if it helped, continue him on when the Duramaxx ran out. I told her it was worth a shot, but that I wasn't going to get my hopes up. I was pretty sure Ike had used up all his miracles.
The drug? Neurontin. The same stuff I take for my hands.
The dosage for Ike would be 150 mgs daily. I went home at lunch and gave him his first dose. She said we'd see any results within two days, so I wanted to start right away. I'd been running home at lunch time all week anyway, to get him outside to pee. He'd been dribbling a lot, and sometimes I forgot to put his diaper on him before I left for work. (The Safeway check out girl, bless her, never batted an eye when I bought maxi-pads.)
It was nice to have those few extra minutes with him too. Always did my heart good to watch him wake up, focus on me, and get happy. What was not so fun was watching him struggle to stay upright while urinating.
So, the weekend comes. The regular overnight gal is working my shift for me Friday night, so I can go in and do other things that need done. The hotel is, frankly, a mess. Financially it's on shaky ground, and so much was ignored while the divorce of the owners was being settled, that there's a LOT of catching up to do. We put out what fires we can, big and small, as they flare up.
I don't remember Saturday.
Saturday night, I wrote my column. The Neurontin had had no affect on Ike, which is sadly what I expected.
The column, as usual, took shape slowly. To me, writing a column is a lot like making a clay sculpture, or a painting. I write parts of it, go back and add to other parts and take away some, too; find a paragraph at the end that can refer to an earlier paragraph or item, and smooth and polish it once it's all fleshed out, until finally I'm satisfied with the end result, if not necessarily happy.
What's odd about this column is that I had the headline written first. It came to me in the middle of the week, and I was terrified I'd forget it. But those four lines kept playing through my head, and kept my headline alive:
This is the way the world ends;
This is the way the world ends;
This is the way the world ends;
Not with a bang but a whimper.
And in my head thoughts would come and go talking of Michelangelo ...
