Friday, December 16, 2011


You'd think the two large Vicodin that I took would have knocked me out for a good eight hours.

At 4:57 I woke to the sound of Alice in her bed . . . slurping and licking . . . something on her back end.  I poked her with my toe.  Whatever was there is gone or drowned, so let's wrap this up, shall we?  She stopped and went back to sleep. 

I couldn't.

I laid there thinking . . . of Christmas presents . . . pathology . . . going back to work . . . money.  Suddenly, I had a lot of things to do at 5am.  I also had a very warm bed, gray light outside my window, the lingering grogginess of prescription pain killers and nowhere to be. 

Pathology: not much I can do to change that, and I will learn more about a second round of radiation at my next doctor's appointment.  Let it go.

Going back to work: not until Monday.  Three more days off, and UCLA seems to have survived just fine without me.  Let it go.

Money: not where I want to be, but I'm fine.  Contemplating Christmas presents, so it's a first-world problem.  Let it go.

*slurp, slurp, slurp*

Clearly my toe did not get its point across. 

I scooped Alice out of her bed and put her in ours.  She pawed and nudged her way between me and D.R and snorted smugly as she settled her warm nose by my neck, right next to my new incision.  (Dogs know.  Oh, they know).  She was already snoring as I draped my arm over D.R.'s chest and his feet and knees intertwined with mine. 

The chilly morning is turning pink outside and I am warm and happy.  There is some serious stank breath between the three of us and Alice's head smells musky and--geeze, is that onion?! Where this creature sticks her head, I cannot say.

And it occurs to me that perhaps it was not worry and the Unknown that woke me early this morning. 

Perhaps it was gratitude.

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