He's Baaack
The doctor called just after I had turned off the shower, and sensing who was calling, I dripped my way across the bedroom to catch the phone before it was taken over by the answerer. I had called a half-hour earlier for the results of the lab tests, but had been told that they weren't in yet; I could try again the next morning after eleven, or maybe call back in two hours. I sure wouldn't like a job like that -- dealing with people with a real reason to feel terribly concerned. In this case, to have no news wasn't as bad as having bad news, but it surely wasn't good news.
I wouldn't have waited until morning; I would have called back in two hours but I didn't have to. I was glad to talk with the doctor herself because she'd done the examination. A nurse or receptionist delivering the information would not have had the same background to discuss the situation, and this was an issue of life, and not. When I'd left the hospital yesterday, I had not been optimistic. I could tell from the looks of the people there that the circumstances didn't seem to urge a good prognosis. When a lump grows that big that quickly....
I thought I had noticed one side, just behind the left shoulder, looking larger than the other, maybe a week earlier, but I didn't take serious notice of it since we all get bumps and bruises that swell larger and don't go away as quickly as when we were younger. Then yesterday morning, it suddenly loomed large. I probed it, but there was no sign of tenderness, let alone pain. Still, things shouldn't grow that large that quickly.
I really didn't want to confront the possibilities. You get to an age where things don't work anymore. When nature's scythe comes a-reapin. That was a fact of life; that it ended in death for every living creature. Which was fine as I was concerned, if those close to me would go last, preferably after I had shuffled off this mortal coil myself. We are five billion over-populated on this planet, with many of those people living miserable lives; maybe those of them who would choose to would go first.
I am ready to go, though I think it would be kinda premature if it were any time soon. Not because of the years, but because I haven't done my work, so far as I can tell. But when it's time, I would be pleased if it could be quick; instantaneous, in fact, so they could tell my survivors something comforting like, he didn't feel a thing, or he didn't know what hit him. I don't know where one might sign up for that program, but I have my pen out.
But this wasn't about me. The lump was on Buster, who didn't seem to notice it or otherwise express any discomfort. He wagged and smiled a lot, his typical self. I got the 107-pound Lab-something into the car and took him to the vet. When she examined him, she could only smile that weak smile that begs hope. That big, that fast...not a good thing. I had to be ready for the sad and likely truth. And I was. I would cry for days and years later at the loss.
So I brought Buster home and lavished extra affection on him, over-fed him treats, and otherwise generally fawned over him. Not that he could tell, of course. I always over-dote The Dawg.
The next afternoon came the call from the vet. The tumor was large and grew fast, she said, because it was a large, fast-growing, benign fatty tumor. Nothing to worry about and nothing to do anything about, unless it got in his way. Or unless Buster suddenly found vanity. Not a big worry at our age.
Buster was 13 on my birthday last week. The age is an informed guess; the birth date a 1/365 chance. As I rubbed his head around his ears, I told him I wanted at least another three years out of him. He let out one of his long, low happy moans. When after a while I stopped, he looked askance, and then licked my face, once lightly, the way he does. Then he smiled, wagged his tail, and nudged me for more head rubbies. I think that meant yes.
And that's SetonnoteS...I'm Tony Seton.
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