Dark Side Of The Moon

 

So. Somber day here at home, I’m a wreck watching Legs and his breathing, I cannot tell if he’s in distress and dying, though it looks like he is reasonably OK right now. Michael spent a long time with Med Vet on the phone this morning and now he is talking privately to mom—I’m thinking about all those people in the Arena last night laughing at the man in our section who revealed his butt crack when he leaned over, but I was stoically silent, such is the fate of worriers. I don’t think we are going to Med Vet today, save an emergency cropping up—Michael wants to see Dr. Sears, who knows Legs, he has treated him his entire life, so I’ve just got to hang in there and hope we can get into see our vet earlier than planned. I’m completely powerless here, and thank God I know Step One by heart, I’ve done it perfectly, as required. 

The game was a bust last night, we got shut out, I should have known we were in trouble when we didn’t get the free popcorn I thought we were getting with our tickets. Don’t know where that miscalculation on my part popped into my head, probably misinterpreted some Gameday Blast I received in my email. Because my heart is also breaking about Legs’ current condition, I’m going to head to mom’s on this sunny day, and try to work on some art, perhaps start that piece in homage to Jasper Johns. I’m not good with death, it rattles my serenity, I think I can handle my own death when it comes, but when it comes to my creatures great and small, it’s terribly, terribly difficult to process.

I just want to run away, how in the hell am I going to handle days of watching Legs like a hawk? Maybe I just pack a bag for mom’s now, and hide out there for a week (assuming she’d have me). Now Michael is telling me if I want to go to mom’s that’s OK—what about all the stuff we bought for Super Bowl Sunday, will all that get thrown out? I feel absolutely trapped, in a straitjacket, I cannot get loose, it’s horrible. If I go to mom’s, I won’t get these final days (if that’s what we are truly talking about here) with Legs, if I stay here I will slowly go insane with worry until we get to Dr. Sears (what if he cannot see us early next week?). OK Legs wants to go on his walk, he is eating, Michael is calm, it’s ME, I don’t agree with holding off, I want to rush Legs to Med Vet, maybe his demise (?), I don’t know what to think anymore. It all just HURTS.

I know I’ve got to get out of this house, at least for now, and that’s what I’m going to do after brunch. I will bring my pills and that ugly green bag and pack lightly for a few days away. I hope mom will have me, Michael has food here, and keys to the VW, which hopefully still runs. I’m in a nightmare, I just want to create art. That’s all for now.