I didn’t ask for a morning call to make sure I got up early. I needed to feed Ben at 0700, along with his sedation medicine. The vet says it helps calm him during his visits.
I fed him his wet food and kibbles, with the medicine mixed in. Then we headed to the park. I collected a urine sample, and we spent some quiet time together at home until 0930. Before leaving, I placed the sample container on top of the car while Ben jumped into the back seat. I even smiled inside, thinking, Good! I remembered the sample.
We arrived at the clinic ten minutes before 10 am, Ben’s appointment time and their opening hour. All three reserved parking bays were already taken. I circled around and tried calling, but they didn’t pick up until 10 o’clock sharp. Dr. Lya answered and told me it was fine to double park; the staff would coordinate with the other clients.
Ben and I waited in the car. Several dogs were going in and out, and the staff knew Ben gets anxious around them. That’s when I realized I had left the urine sample on top of the car. I jumped out and checked, clinging to hope. Nothing. It must have fallen off somewhere during the 20-minute drive.
I did remember to collect the sample. I did remember to bring it out of the house. But then I forgot about it completely. So much for trying to do everything on my own.
Eventually, a nurse came out to invite us in. As soon as Ben stepped out of the car, he wanted to bolt. Anywhere but the clinic. Inside, we weighed him: 16.6 kg. Another dip. The nurse at the counter noted 16.5 kg.
We went into the x-ray room. Dr. Kok met us there. He asked to put a muzzle on Ben. I told him I didn’t feel confident doing it, so he asked me to distract Ben, and he slipped it on like sleight of hand. Ben’s regular nurse joined us, and the long heart scan began.
Dr. Kok lifted Ben onto the table. They laid him on his left side and shaved patches of fur from his chest. Gel, scanner, probes. The nurse held his legs, and I scratched his head—my task, important in its own small way.
The nurse suggested trimming Ben’s nails while he was so still. Good idea. I told them I’d never seen Ben so calm, so still, while awake.
People came and went. A doctor used the computer. A nurse peeked in. Each time, Ben stirred, thinking it was finally time to go. After his nails were done, they let him up. I thought it was over.
Nope.
They needed to scan the other side. So down he went again, this time on his right. I moved to the other side to keep scratching his head. More scanning. Different settings. Same patience from Ben.
Finally, they let him up. Again, I thought we were done.
No.
They needed to take his blood pressure. He had to stand. I held his head close and whispered that it would be over soon. I did not think he believed me anymore. He just stood there, quietly enduring it all, waiting for it to end.
Then came the x-ray. I was asked to step out. I heard his paws scratch at the door. I had to let them handle it.
While waiting, I spoke to the staff at the counter. Frontline is hard to get now, they said. Maybe I should switch to Revolution – it covers what Frontline and Heartgard used to. I still have three doses of Heartgard left. I’ll think about it.
Ben returned. Dr. Lya spoke with me. I showed her Ben’s journal – the one I’ve been keeping. I briefed Dr Lya his breathing rate, when he coughed, vomited, etc. She said she couldn’t anything wrong with him and that we’d continue his airway medication to help him breathe. She asked me to provide details of what Ben eats.
She asked about the urine sample. I told her what happened. That drew a round of laughter. She gave me a pan. I asked for a container instead. Ben and I visited every grass patch nearby. No pee. I went back to collect his meds and pay. The bill wasn’t ready. We went out again. Still nothing.
Eventually, I got the medicine, paid, and we left. Ben perked up as we neared Popo’s house. He always does. Popo gave him treats. And – finally – he peed. I got the sample. Mom (Ben’s Popo) handed me a huge guava. A small blessing.
We returned to the clinic. I handed in the sample and paid the test fee. Then Ben and I went home.
This time, I didn’t ask for prayers. I didn’t ask anyone to call and wake me up. I didn’t share my anxieties. Through the entire process – tests, scans, waiting – I didn’t even have a spare moment to worry about my stomach. And oddly, my stomach didn’t act up once.
I’m not trying to isolate myself. I just wanted, for once, to see what it feels like to live without leaning on anyone else. Just Ben and me.
I don’t think I’ll get used to it. I’m not sure I like it. But I don’t dislike it either. I’m aware of what solitude can do. I know the cost – to the body, to the mind. I’ll find a balance. Between the risk of being disappointed… and the risk of breaking down.
I still have God.
And I still have Ben.
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