I don’t travel well. Automobiles, planes, boats; as soon as I get on board any of them, I miraculously renew the faith that sometimes eludes me. I pray constantly. I talk to God, make deals with Jesus, and promise to return to church if only I can make it to my destination safely. So far, it has worked.
Last Monday, Feb. 11, Frank and I took Maple to see a surgeon at Michigan State University in East Lansing. Had to be done. Maple is only four years old and she was going lame. Didn’t matter that the anticipation of spending five hours, each way, in a vehicle during the Ontario/Michigan winter season is all it takes to make my bowels howl. Seriously. An indelicate subject to be sure, but reality nonetheless. My bowels are very vocal. Especially when it’s quiet. I like to think they’re just friendly. Trying to communicate with anyone and everyone who happens to be close to me when I’m experiencing a panic attack.
Didn’t matter what the car ride would do to my insides; my dog needed me. So away we went. And, due to my incessant praying and Frank’s very capable driving skills, we made it safely there and back. The weather was snowy/rainy both ways, but it wasn’t accumulating on the roads, which made me very happy, but…whenever we passed a vehicle, especially transports…we were blinded by spray and slush. My poor husband. He is so patient with my paranoia. “Maybe you could use another Gravol,” he’d say, whenever I braced my feet against the floor boards, with one hand on the roof of the Jeep and the other against my door, in preparation for what I was sure was to be a vehicular blood bath that only I, and maybe Stephen King, could possibly envision.
Thing is, I really enjoy being in different places (as long as I’m behind locked doors when it gets dark), and I really enjoy meeting new people (you can’t beat American waitresses. They are the best). I just don’t like getting there.
The veterinarians and students at Michigan State were compassionate, informative and patient. Jeremy, the student vet, called me regularly to let me know what was going on with Maple and how she was doing. She was diagnosed with Cranial Cruciate Ligament Rupture and needed a procedure called Tibial Plateau Leveling Osteotomy.
You can’t see the incision from this viewpoint, but you can see her eyes. The devotion. The trust. The “I hurt but I know you’ll take care of me”. Enough to break your heart.
So, bowels be damned. Put your trust in God and Gravol and get on with life.
I do love trains, though. Pity you have to be a freight car full of lumber to get a ride on one up here in Northern Ontario.