Yesterday I worked for eight hours. I felt pretty accomplished I have
to say. I didn’t really (to my knowledge) make any dreadful mistakes. We were
busy and the day sped by. I ended up leaving with $9 in tips, which for some
reason cracks me up. I don’t think that I ever received a tip in my life. That
extra bit of cash was a nice end to an OK work day. I spoke to Keanu on the
phone and he told me amusing stories of fellow lobbyists and other governmental
doings in Hawaii. I have to come to believe that just about anything is possible
in the world of politics.
I came home briefly before heading up to Joe’s house. It was Thursday,
the night we watch So You Think You Can Dance, both nights. He had taken his
rescued racing Greyhound Nitro to the specialist vet for a consultation during
the day. Nitro had gone to the regular vet but they were unable to determine
why he has been limping around for a while. After the exam yesterday, the specialist vet
wanted to do a bone biopsy on Nitro. I think that Joe was feeling kind of
overwhelmed so he waffled on actually scheduling the procedure. The two diagnoses
that had come up in the consultation were either bone cancer or a bone
infection, neither of which was very good. We were looking for another better
option but none are to be had.
Joe bit the bullet and called the specialist this morning. She said to
bring him in right away, that they would do the procedure today and that taking
action as soon as possible was the best thing to do. Joe called and asked if I
would take the ride to the vets in Riverhead with him to drop Nitro off. We
chatted on the way up. Nitro snoozed in the back seat. The vet’s office is in
this medical park with people and kid doctors. Joe calls it a one stop shop.
The interior of the office is very nice but tiled. Nitro does not like tile. He
stood shivering and drooling as Joe signed a bunch of papers promising to pay
large sums of money, potentially to hear something that will break his heart.
We talk about it in the car on the way back. He tells me that you have to start
by knowing what it is before you can even make a decision and move forward with
treatment or without treatment. We discuss stopping for a vodka tasting or some
wine. We settle on Starbucks. He tells me to not let him buy a case of
Entenmann’s chocolate chip cookies in the supermarket. He controls himself by
only visiting the diary aisle for milk. He brings me home, drops me off, and
takes leftover ratatouille from the other night.
I hope that he is glad that I went with him. I always feel like I don’t
know the right thing to say. I feel like I should be more comforting. I don’t
know, maybe there is no need for words or anything, just the being. Maybe it is
just that you want someone who knows. Someone who knows the deal. Someone who
you don’t have to explain all the stuff to. It is funny to see my Mom with Joe.
She is all motherly in the right ways. I like to see that. Two people that I
love who have a relationship like that. Like the son she never had. Was Joe
glad I went with him today? I don’t know. I hope so. All I know is that if he
called again I would go again, for as many times as he wanted.