This afternoon, we met our long-time friends Gautam and Bela at Barnes and Noble for coffee and conversation. Although we don't see each other very often anymore, now that I'm away from Statesboro, our history goes far back to Baton Rouge. Gautam, now a Lit professor at Georgia Southern, was an instructor at LSU in the '80's at the same time I was a graduate student there. But because the grad students were so segregated from the "real" teachers, with offices on separate floors, I didn't know Gautam and Bela at the time. Their son is the same age as Paul, to the week, born in July, 1986, and even born at the same hospital in Baton Rouge. When Gautam arrived at Georgia Southern for his interview about a year after I'd been hired, I was the person who picked him up at the airport. Subsequently, we learned that we'd been LSU colleagues but had traveled in different circles (he was much higher on the food chain). When we became GSU colleagues, all that changed. We've visited back and forth for years, and when the boys were young, they used to play video games (I have a photo of the two of them hypnotized in front of Nintendo). Today, we reminisced a lot about Baton Rouge days and different places in Baton Rouge, which was a lifetime ago, and it made me aware of the years that have passed. Their son Abir has graduated from college, and is working in Chicago, no longer the little boy in front of the Nintendo. Also, we were all talking about retirement funds, which shows that we're not the young starry-eyeds we used to be.
Later this afternoon, Liberto and I went to see Slumdog Millionaire. The drama aside, the scenes of the slums and poverty were significant reminders of how much of the world suffers.
Last Monday, on MLK Day, Liberto and I decided to check out Circuit City again. As we pulled into the parking lot, I noticed the local news anchor standing with a camera man interviewing a tall African American man who was facing away from us. I said to Liberto, "That man looks just like Mr. Dingle!" And it was. Do readers recall Mr. Dingle from my previous high school, whose name became the term for being written up: "Dingle-ized" as everyone called it. That is, if he could catch them. My memory of him was a blur racing down the hall, chasing after skippers, walkie talkie in hand. When the t.v. anchor had finished interviewing him, we hailed him. He was happy to see me. He'd retired from the school system, so now he could talk freely. He said, "Once SHE came to Groves, she destroyed a lot of people." We both knew who he meant by SHE; no names were necessary. He said SHE treated the AP's like dogs too, not just the teachers, and that she had driven good teachers away." He said he'd heard that I'd left and was happy for me, that I was always so professional and deserved better. AMEN!
On Friday, I took Pete to the vet's for a follow-up appointment. I may have mentioned that he's been peeing a lot more than usual, and often on the carpet, as though he's confused about where to do it. Even on walks, he does it a lot more. A few weeks or a month ago, I took him in for an evaluation because I'd noticed the change. They did a urinalysis, determined he had an infection, and said he also had some "irregularities" in the urine, and it should be re-tested. He finished his round of antibiotics, but was still been having accidents on the rug. Friday's appointment brought bad news. The vet decided to do a blood test, urinalysis and x-ray. She concluded that she thinks he has bladder cancer. She showed me the x-ray of his bladder and pointed to some blurry black and white images. They could be just harmless stones, she says, but considering that he now has a lot of blood in his urine and is straining to pee, she thinks it shows cancer. When she brought up exploratory surgery, I said "No." What would be the point, except to make the poor dog suffer? If he has cancer, there's nothing they can do, and certainly it will manifest later. The blood test, which will come back Monday, will tell a lot in itself. I am not in any rush for him to depart, and I would not rashly have him euthanized, even if he were clearly diagnosed with cancer. Let him live as long as he feels well. The conversation was painful and rife with deja vu, as I remembered Sandy's final months, the smell of the vet's office, the sorrow, the tears. When I arrived home with Pete and told L. the prognosis, I burst into tears. Of course, L. has more serious worries about his father, whose illness supersedes concerns about a dog. However, today, Pete's been lively and happy. He started a new round of antibiotics. He used to be very good at culling any pills from the meat treats I'd hide them in, and spitting them out, while swallowing the treat. I discovered a new trick. I hold up 2 pieces of meat. The pill is in the first one. As I give that to him, I hold up the second piece of meat. He gets so excited at the prospect of a second piece, that he swallows the first eagerly without even thinking to do a pill-search, lunges for the second piece. Meanwhile the pill is halfway down his gullet. He's been frisky and appears healthy. It's the cat I'm worried about. All of a sudden, the cat seems lethargic and bony. I've been giving him thyroid medication, and he was doing well, but today, he seems sluggish.
This week, second son met a girl on eharmony who happened to live in Savannah. He left for a date on Wednesday and didn't return until the next afternoon, so we assumed it went well. Same thing Thursday and Friday. Today, before L. and I left to meet Gautaum and Bela, he arrived here with the girlfriend and a guy she knows, and the three of them were leaving to go fishing at Tybee. He'd just stopped by the house to pick up something before they left. He looked happier than I'd seen him in a long time. But when L. and I returned from the movie at about 6:30, Son had just gotten back from the outing, alone, and was... strongly under the influence of something and not at all happy. I fear self-medication because I've suspected that before. He appeared to be in the middle of a telephone argument, I assume with the girlfriend.
The rain is coming down. I love the sound of it. Now I won't have to play my storm tapes tonight when I go to sleep.
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