Thursday, September 21, 2006

It's Been A Hard Week

Sleep study last Saturday night, with CPAP machine. Interesting doctor there in addition to the technician, doing a research study. He had a South Asian name, but said he was born and raised in Spain. Chatted about Bindi's upcoming surgery. He was extremely surprised to hear that American's could get "pet health insurance." I said, yes, we americans are nuts about our pets.
I didn't feel like I slept at all, the CPAP mask hurt, and I woke up with a sore throat, which has now turned into a cold. The technician said I didn't do too badly. We'll see what the report has to say.

Sunday I was dragging after having left the sleep lab about 3:30 am cause I couldn't take anymore and the tech said he thought he had enough data. Did force myself to go to a concert at the Stony Creek church in the afternoon, a gospel group called Salt & Pepper which has been around for over 20 years in the area. Although I'm not a Christian, I find the music and the singing and the arrangements and lyrics of gospel very moving. I was rocking and rolling in my seat while around me almost everyone else was sitting as still and unphased as white fence posts! How could that be? I know how that be . . . New England uptightness, to cast a stereotype.

Monday, Bindi's surgery, and poor DillBoy. Tuesday morning I drove up to the UConn pathology lab to find out what killed Dill and the people there were completely nice. A British doctor, Dr. Goldie, came out to interview me, and he was gracious and gentle. The drive up there on Route 32 was lovely, although I did have a very hard time finding the lab once on the UConn campus. I arranged to have Dill's body cremated after he was done with the exam, and the little guy will be UPS'd back to me. Bindi had done well with her surgery, but I could not go visit her and they did not know when she could come home. Dr. Goldie had called me Tuesday morning, and kept referring to Dill as "Bill," which I thought was kind of endearing so I didn't correct him. Enlarged heart, cardiac arrest. No symptoms. I didn't think it was then necessary to do a tox screen, as the doc was fairly certain of his findings.

Tuesday evening I watched on television the memorial service for Steve Irwin. I had heard his daughter Bindi would be speaking if she felt up to it, and indeed she did. She had written her own eulogy, and wearing a headset and following each line of her writing with her finger read her loving words to her father: “I have the best Daddy in the whole world and I will miss him every day. I don't want Daddy's passion to ever end. I want to help endangered wildlife just like he did. My Daddy was my hero - he was always there for me when I needed him. He listened to me and taught me so many things but most of all he was fun. When I see a crocodile I will always think of him and I know that Daddy made this zoo so everyone could come and learn to love all the animals. Daddy made this place his whole life and now it's our turn to help Daddy."

Of course I cried and cried, for BindiDog, and Bindi Irwin, for DillBoy, for all the losses great and small. They all count.

Yesterday I was able to pick up Bindi from the vet hospital with three different medications and instructions for her recovery. She was tired and didn't even kiss me when I picked her up, but I was so glad to have her back. I brought her back to the office for a couple of hours so all her friends could see her and she could get showered with attention, then it was off to home. I stopped in to visit R. and R., always uplifting, and Bindi got to sniff their dogs Dilwyn and Arnold. How odd that I was without my BindiDog the day that Bindi Irwin honored her dad, and how odd that R. has a dog named Dil. Six degrees of separation? I think less . . .

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