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.  

Would You Still Remember Me?

I knew it was bad when I nearly started crying at the first sounds of Freebird while drinking a beer at 10:30 in the morning in a sticky, Hawks-inspired airport bar.   I’m going on vacation.

Lola started her radiation.  The first day went pretty smoothly, though we dropped her off at 7:20 in the morning and she wasn’t ready until 7:00 in the evening.  I was worried the whole day about rain.  Lola has gotten so intolerant to rain that we could easily crash the car and die if we were on one of the many highways that lead to the vet and rain began.  I also worried abut the daily anesthesia and fifty million medications she has to take. 

We worked out her transportation for the radiation.  Alec switched his schedule to nights and I rented a car for nearly three weeks so that I could get to work in the mornings while he dropped her off north of the city in our car and I could pick her up in the afternoons after work in the rental car while he works.  I told my second job that I can't start for a minute.  But, the rain. Watching the rain and being in fear and begging people to ride around with a thrashing dog for sixteen days is a lot. And, it's awful for her, on top of all the other stresses.  After dropping her off for her first day of radiation, I drove to Petco and bought the biggest crate that would fit in the back seat, secured it with carabiners and put a comfy blanket in the bottom. Then, I ordered a second one for the rental car.

I love picking Lola up from the vet.  She runs at me and drags the vet techs behind her, tail wagging.  I cry every time I drop her off.  

I am physically catching up with my family in Tybee Island, yes, Tybee again, two times in one summer. They went down to the rental I picked out months ago on Tuesday and I’m flying down there today.  It was the same price as renting a one-way car and Alec is off until Saturday, when I come back.  He is going to take her back and forth to her daily appointments.  I almost didn’t go at all, but I know Alec will take care of her.  But it has been a difficult decision and I am not sure I can even enjoy a "vacation" knowing what she is going through.  

And, I cried after dropping her off for radiation this morning.

Hot Winds on My Shoulder

We sat in the full parking lot of the animal hospital.  It's north of the city in an ugly, traffic-y area.  Because of COVID, everyone was waiting in their cars with their dogs until someone came out to get them.  And then, you watch your dog walk into this big building and just keep waiting in the car.  It was a pretty tremendous operation.  They finally took Lola into the hospital to see the radio-oncologist.  I was surprised to watch her skip in there with a total stranger, butt shaking and into the hospital.  She didn't even look over her shoulder at me.  Quite a while later, the doctor emerged.  

"I am really not familiar with that shot, we don't do it here."  she began.  
The shot.  Neat.  The reason why we got a referral here.  The thing that would blast out that tumor without anesthesia or radiation.  The reason we were now seeing a third vet in fucking Sandy Springs-middle earth.  I looked at the ground.
"I recommend surgery.  The surgeon will not be able to get all of the tumor and Lola will require sixteen radiation treatments to eradicate the rest of it after surgery.  I want to aspirate her spleen and ultrasound her organs to make sure it hasn't spread.  This is going to take a few hours, you guys should go home.  I'll get her on the surgery schedule, it could be one to two weeks and then we'll schedule radiation.  Go home.  We'll call you."

We were back at square one.  Three vets later and back at square one and my dog still had a tumor on her leg that was malignant.  I pulled out of the parking lot and bawled my head off. 

Alec started googling every vet in Georgia and even in Tennessee to try to find someone that could evaluate Lola for the shot.  I didn't care if Lola was on every vet's schedule in town, the way this was going it seemed like the only way anyone was going to every treat this fucking thing.  UGA couldn't get her in for six weeks.  Most vets didn't have the shot.  Finally, a vet in Chattanooga knew what we were talking about and was available to evaluate Lola on July 8th.  

The radio-oncologist called and said that we could pick Lola up.  The ultrasound came out clear and Lola was scheduled for surgery on July 6th.  I hung up the phone and looked at Alec.  We had a decision to make, get the surgery or delay even more to get Lola evaluated for the shot.  We drove back to the animal hospital.

The vet came out with Lola.  

"I will have the results in 24 hours for the spleen."  she informed us.  

"I looked into it too and we do do the shot.  But, the tumor is too big, so she is not eligible for it."

"Okay."  I responded.  

"She's on the schedule for surgery and I will call you with the results of the spleen aspiration."

In ways, I was relieved that the decision had been made for us regarding surgery vs. shot.  But I was horrified by the idea of my dog being put under anesthesia for sixteen days and experiencing radiation.  They said it would blister, and be painful.  Even two weeks after the end, it's bad.  But, it has a 90% survival rate for 3-5 years before reoccurrence.  

The timeline was getting crazy, too.  Lola will have to be dropped off by seven in the morning and picked up in the afternoon.  I start working on July 26th, from seven in the morning until three in the afternoon.  I am also returning to my second job three days a week.  Alec and I have one car. He rides his bike to work and I use the car to get to where I work east of Atlanta, in the mornings it takes twenty-two minutes to get there, but from the vet it would take forty-five, if something crazy didn't happen.  The vet is north of Atlanta, about 40 minutes from where we live if traffic is tolerable.  My second job is in Decatur.  Radiation wouldn't begin until around two weeks after surgery and would be scheduled for sixteen, Monday through Friday days.  It would start the day I was supposed to go on a vacation that is non-refundable at this point and last through my pre-planning week and into the second week of school.  

I was scared to death about my dog and literally grinding my teeth to nubs trying to figure out how we would get her back and forth for her radiation and keep both of our jobs.  And, I was again pacing around with my phone in my hand waiting again to find out if it had spread to her spleen.  

Days later, the vet called and said that Lola's spleen was clear.  I started crying again, out of relief.  And, last Tuesday, she had her surgery.  The tumor has been removed.  Her leg is bandaged up to her knee and she is on "house rest", meaning she can't run around or jump.  We have been spending a lot of time indoors, laying on the couch while I pet her.  

As horrible as this is, I am beyond grateful that the cancer did not spread.  Everything would be even more awful right now.  Honestly, it would be intolerable.  

Someone's Going to Get Hurt Before You're Through

Driving Lola home from the vet turned into one of the worst days of my life.  She couldn't walk.  She was so drugged from the shit they gave her in order to biopsy her lymph nodes and X-ray her body that I barely recognized my dog.  I had to pull upward on her harness while her legs limped along just to get her in the car.  My sister waited in the driver's seat while I climbed into the back seat with my dog.

Lola whimpered.  Cried.  Her eyes were bulging in fear, I could see the white parts all around them.  I petted her and hugged her but nothing would sooth her.  She wouldn't even get on the seat; she laid on the floor of the car.  

"Call Steve," my sister requested.
"Tell him to meet us at your house."  

When we pulled up in the driveway, my brother-in-law, Steve, was waiting at the curb.  He lifted Lola out of the car and carried her through my back yard and down the steps and into the house.  He placed her on the couch.  

She whimpered and cried and paced the whole day.  I couldn't get her to eat, nothing I did helped.  I wrapped her up in her favorite velveteen blanket, turned the fan on, hugged her and cried.  Finally, around four o'clock in the afternoon, she fell asleep.  The only thing she ate was some expensive, leftover cheese that we had bought for Alec's mom while she was here.  

We got the results of her blood work and biopsies and X-rays multiple days later.  It was supposed to be twenty-four hours.  I carried my phone even to the bathroom with me with the ringer on for days, waiting.  Finally, they had some answers.  

"Blood work remains normal.  It has not passed to either of her lymph nodes.  Her lung and body scans are clear.  It has not metastasized."

I started to cry.  

"Is this comprehensive, could anything have been missed?"  I asked.

"You have done everything you can do.  I think she is a very good candidate for Stelfonta."

We go to Lola's radio-oncologist tomorrow.  We hope that she will do the treatment immediately.  I stare at the tumor on her leg, worrying that it is metastasizing as I watch.    I kiss her and do weird Catholic shit, hoping that though I'm a non-believer that they will still bless my dog.  

I bless my dog.  

* Title, Waylon Jennings

The Black Sea

I heard a little knock on the trailer door, early in the morning on the last day of school.
"Faba!"  I exclaimed, surprised to see him.  He hadn't been at school in days and I assumed he wasn't coming back.  
"My sister didn't know we still had school!"  he said shyly.
"I have your Bud, Not Buddy," continued, handing me the book.  
"Oh, Faba, I am going to miss you."  I responded.
"Maybe I'll be able to stop by."  he answered in his pretty Congolese accent, radiant teeth shining in the morning sun.  

I broke him out his ordinary classroom with the few kids I had that were still in the building.  They ate lunch in the trailer, played Scrabble and ate Starburst until the buses came.  I didn't break out Mashia; I'm not sure why.  I felt enormously guilty when I went to say goodbye to her and she would barely talk to me.  

The school year ended with a naked man walking through the the carpool/bus lane and an unceremonious, it's three o'clock, you can leave vibe.  I could hear teachers' tires squealing and saw a line of cars peeling out even before I could get the trailer locked.  

I tried to hit the ground running and spent days cleaning up our house and yard.  I wanted to get it out of the way, and Alec's mom was coming in to town.  She would be in Atlanta for a couple of days and then we would drive to Tybee Island for a few days at the beach.  I was really looking forward to it.  I haven't gone swimming in two years, principally because of COVID, and even driving to the Georgia coast was thrilling.  I selected a pet friendly, 1960s cinder block beach cottage right by a couple of my favorite beach access points.  

Lola really doesn't like rain.  Before, she would tolerate it while in the car, as long as we did not turn the windshield wipers on.  Now, even sprinkles on the windshield drives her into a nearly ninety pound frenzy of powerful dog.  Alec and I watched the weather like hawks, trying to anticipate the drive.  

We hit rain.  And road work.  A four hour drive turned into more than seven.  I was in the backseat, trying to hold Lola back from crashing forward and attacking the windshield.  She was terrified, barking, foaming at the mouth, her heart racing and her skin hot to the touch.   I wasn't mad at her, I felt terrible.  Alec's mom was in the front seat, tolerating this awful situation.  By the time we arrived, I was soaking wet from rain, had sworn and cried and had bruises all over every conceivable part of my body.  When we went to sleep in my little twin bed across from Alec's little twin bed, I hugged Lola very hard.  

I swam in the ocean the next day, floated on my back and looked at the sun.  

The day after we returned to Atlanta, Lola's vet called with results of a biopsy I requested during her annual well visit.
"It's malignant."

Malignant.  The thing you have been saying for years we should "just watch"?  The thing I got biopsied at a different vet and they said it was nothing?  The thing I had to push you to biopsy again?

"They can schedule her surgery for June 30th."  Alec told me.

"The main doctor says that she isn't concerned about another two and a half week wait." he continued.

"Yeah," I responded.

"Because she's never concerned about a whole lot of anything."

Alec nodded and started calling every vet in town to see who could get on this faster.  

We got an appointment at my mom's vet and they scheduled the surgery a week later, as well as a lymph node biopsy to see if the cancer had metastasized.  We watched the rain and panicked about getting her there and back, and worried about reports that the location of her tumor was a difficult place to operate.  My sister and I drove her for the appointment, on Alec's first day back to work after his vacation.  The sky stayed pretty clear.  

About an hour and half after dropping her off, my phone started ringing.

"She needs to see an oncologist.  I can't remove all of the tumor because of the location.  I want to call in a referral to a radio-oncologist, I'm texting you everything.  If it hasn't spread, there is a non-surgical option that will destroy the tumor.  It will take a lot of home care, it will be an open wound.  If it has spread, she'll need surgery and chemo and radiation.  I'm going to ask them if I can biopsy the lymph node and scan her lungs for tumors and do her blood work, if they will accept that.  Do I have your consent?"

"Yes."

"They are accepting my preparation and that will speed things along.  They have a cancelation for next week, call them as soon as we get off the phone.  It's on June 30th.  I am about to start the scans."

"When can I pick her up?"

"In an hour, I gave her a sedative so that I can X-ray her and biopsy her lymph node.  She's woozy.  We will have the results in twenty-four hours, but if I see anything big in the X-ray, I can tell you today."

That's all I've got.  That is really all that I've got.  

Super Flower Blood Moon

I drove slowly down the street near my school, looking for Prem's house.  I parked across the street, put my mask on and stepped hesitantly from the car.  I had a bag full of drift souvenirs for Prem:  a t-shirt, hat, programs, stickers....even a piece of rubber.  I was going to leave it on the front porch, when something beside the garage caught my eye.  Prem jumped up and sprinted across the front yard then bolted straight across the street.
"Prem!"  I exclaimed.
"You could have gotten hit by a car!"
"I don't care...." he replied in his subversive whisper, his face filled with joy.  

"What happened to your eye?"  I asked Soe, after picking her up from her classroom.  A sizeable scab was resting right below her lower eyelashes.

"My mom got mad and threw her phone at me."  she responded, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Kaw shot out of his classroom.

"Ms. Wagner, yesterday Paw Ku cried."  he whispered furtively.

"Yes, she cried." Bway Pa seconded, a concerned look on her face.

Paw Ku nodded.

"I'll tell you in the trailer."

"So, yesterday that sub we had started asking us questions after you brought us back.  Questions about where we are from.....I told him the soldiers were chasing us and that we ran....we ran to the Americans and they told my parents $2000 each for them and that I could come for free."

I stared back.  

"It is still happening."  Bway Pa added.

"The are killing people again."

The Myanmar coup has been going on for a while now.  I always wonder how both my Burmese and Karen students are taking it, but don't want to prod them to discuss it.  But, it happens anyway. 

Career day was quickly approaching.

"Me," Mashia said in response, "I just want to be a socialite."  

"Look, Aniyah, this is not an episode of Cribs!  Stop giving everyone a tour of your house!"

I stared into the computer screen at my second grade class.  Their homeroom teacher was unraveling a bit.  We all are.  

I stood on the corner watching the kids walk the rest of the way home.  The school buses roared by, but one of them was filled with screams.  The bus screeched to a halt and I saw two girls in the aisle, fist fighting.  Mya peered through the window of the bus, smiled, and held up her award for being the best music student.  The girls continued fighting behind her.

"I am going to Indiana this summer!"  Soe exclaimed.

"Wow, that's far!  Why are you going to Indiana?"  I asked.

"We are going to see the cops."  she responded. 

"My dad is going to build me a bamboo house."  Paw Ku said, a big smile on her face.  We looked at various pictures of bamboo huts and commented on which was the coolest.

"He can build them really fast.  After the army would burn ours down, he would just build it again."

"I like any politician that supports LGBTQ rights."  Bway Pa announced definitively.

"That's great, Bway Pa, you are an ally."  I answered.

"Nah, I'm not an ally.  I'm pan." she responded, a satisfied look on her face.

"And, on Sunday, blood was on my pants.  I was wearing white.  I tried to make it go away but it just kept coming."  she continued.

"Oh god, Bway Pa, I am so sorry."

"I didn't know what was happening...." she responded, and then told the ESOL class the horrors of her first period.  The boys, Kaw and Jorge, listened attentively, but were clearly baffled by what she was talking about.  

"I am VERY UNCOMFORTABLE."  she announced at the end.

"These pads suck."

"And this thing is going to happen to Paw Ku, too."

Paw Ku looked back at me, blankly.

"Okay, so we'll start with the electric slide and then do a Soul Train."

I was confused, but knew that this end of the school year video involved dancing, which I don't do.  I was only there because our principal wanted us to do it.  

The line dance started and I was lost.  I kept getting where no one was in front of me and I had no idea what to do.  It was humiliating.  I finally caught sight of one of the lunch ladies, watching me with amusement.

"I need guidance!" I scream-whispered.

"Don't worry,"  she responded.

"I got you."

Chaos in the Big Sea

"Prince Philip died." my royal watcher, Mashia, announced in a Google Classroom message.
I went to her classroom to pull her out.  We had already talked extensively about the Meghan/Harry situation in previous weeks.  She is Team William/Kate.
"Who wouldn't want to be a royal?"  she asked with a shrug during one of our previous conversations.  We had also remarked on the appearance of Prince Philip before he died, breaking into uncontrollable inappropriate laughter because of his freakish, cryptlike-alive appearance.  
As soon as she exited the classroom, she looked me directly in the eyes.
"I thought," she said before pausing, "that he would be mum...mummified."  
We both started laughing so hard I was crying.  I knew right away that she meant whatever those weird, embalmed glass cases are called that house the viewable bodies of Chairman Mao and Lenin and Ho Chi Minh.  I don't know why it was so funny, but this little third grader just has a way of cracking me the fuck up.  

"Where did the Expo go?" I asked Paw Ku.  

"It fell back there, in that crack in the bookcase."  she responded.

We both dug our fingers into the crack by the floor.

"I think I felt fur."  she commented, casually.

I ripped my hand out.  

I walk the kids that walk home from school up the hill in the afternoons.  I watch them until they get to the corner and then I walk back to school.  It's not the worst afternoon duty.  My crew is small, because most of our students opted not to return to the school building during COVID.  As we walked one day, a man came out of the overgrown woods around the school, the woods filled with old tires and trash and snakes.  He was carrying a large golf club, swinging it, while bouncing a tennis ball.  He had on long shorts with socks pulled to his knees and shower shoes.  He came toward us.  These kids aren't stupid and they side-eyed me with looks like this guy is janky.  We kept walking.  We got to the top of the hill and I turned my back on him and told the kids to walk home.  I wasn't comfortable, but I figured if he cracked anyone in the head I would prefer it was me instead of them.  

I took the day off and drove nearly an hour outside of town to got to the Drift races, without Prem.  The weather was clear and cool.  As soon as I got there, I saw that he had already blown up my phone with messages.

"Ms. Wagner, are you there?  YOU DID NOT GO TO SCHOOL, DID YOU???"

As fast as I could, I got in front of a Formula Drift sign and made him a video, reassuring him that I DID NOT GO TO SCHOOL, and to get ready, because the videos and photos were coming.   As soon as I got to the actual track, I felt my phone buzzing.  He was calling me on Instagram's version of FaceTime and he had Kaw on the call.

"They're coming, Prem, they're coming!"  I yelled over the noise, before turning my phone around so that he could see the twin cars racing down the hill and breaking and drifting with smoke clouding the whole air.  

"That is really cool...." I heard Prem whisper into the phone.  

I felt ridiculous when tears filled my eyes, but I just kept them focused on the race and kept filming.  

My fourth graders ran out to our trailer, picking weed flowers the whole time.  The made head bands, rings, even a head band and a bracelet for Lola.  We all put them on and read our book, with magic everywhere.  

*Title from House of Love, Christine