The Ones in My Heart

Hot vax summer hasn't been what I thought it would be. 

I enjoyed my second stay on Tybee Island this summer, this time with my mom, sister, niece and her boyfriend.  The place we rented had beautiful porches that we could sit on and should have been an all together good time.  But my mind was on other things: Lola, Alec taking care of everything on his own, and the stupid vet not being able to digest which phone number she was supposed to call, though we filled out paperwork every morning with contact information.  

I think the worst was the night we ate at a place I had been really looking forward to and calls started coming through from the vet hours after they had been placed because of my shitty coverage, telling me that my dog was in duress.  
"She is hurting herself.  Her feet are injured.  It is not good for her to be here all day in the kennel.  We are changing our protocol for Lola and she will be the first dog in and the first dog out, everyday."

I would have taken that call.  I never liked the protocol to begin with, the ten, twelve hour days, "we'll call you when we call you" stuff, but they said it was so that they could serve as many sick dogs as possible.  All I could hear on my phone was "Lola is in duress." I came back to the table and tried to act natural; Alec was texting me telling me it was all in control.  I, on the other hand, decided not to be in control and drank 500 beers and stayed up until two o'clock in the morning with my niece.  I felt physically ill for a lot of the remainder of the trip, both from that night of drinking and my fear of what was happening to Lola.  Now, I'm grateful that they were willing to adjust their system to keep Lola safe.  

School started on Monday.  This might have been the fastest summer ever.  I had hoped to be tan and buff, but I rolled in on the first day in my rental car with wet hair and went straight to my trailer.  Lola made it through her half-way mark of radiation today.  She has eight more treatments to go.  Alec and I get up really early and prepare her for the ride.  We fast her each night and give her a million pills in the morning and flush her IV catheter with saline.  Then, I watch them drive down the street, thinking about how the majority of things that I love profusely are encapsulated in one compartment, driving slowly away.  

When I can't see them anymore, I go to work.