People Come And People Go

Funny. Today there is little on television other than the Michael Jackson memorial. Hundreds of thousands of people are saying goodbye to someone they've never met. Yet they grieve inconsolably.

Yesterday was my turn to grieve. I was losing a person who has come to mean a great deal to me. Dr. Sara Bordelon. Bacchus's cardiologist. She has finished her residency at Washington State, taken her boards and is off to the next adventure in her young life. Private practice in Florida. She will have great success. As Dr. Prince once said of her, "She's on it!"

From that first wintry night back in January when we rushed Bacchus to the clinic with congestive heart failure, I knew that if anything could be done she would come up with it. Such was the level of her confidence and her ability to convey it. During the intervening months she fielded e-mails and phone calls from a distraught pet owner with the utmost of grace, assurances and truths. The visits every month were much the same.

As time passed and Bacchus's inundated system began to adjust to the medications I adjusted to the situation. Hub was a great help in my keeping sane. In his calm and measured way he made me understand that what ever will be will be. I'm no longer in a panic. I know what the outcome will be, just not when. I also know that we've given him many additional good months thanks to the skill of Dr. Bordelon. That he's more an old dog who happens to be sick than a sick dog that happens to be old is testimony to that.

When discussing it yesterday she said, "That's what we wanted, isn't it." Indeed.

The photo? I wanted to give her a token of our appreciation and to wish her well. I had carved a Cougar for a project that has been shelved. Since Washington State's mascot is a Cougar I knew she had to have it. All those winter months she would appear with a long pink scarf peeking out from under her lab coat. Being from Louisiana, she was always cold. So I adorned said Cougar with a scarf of it's own and set it on the dining room table for Bacchus's approval. Eh. Sort of silly but okay.

As I sit here writing this my mind drifts back to the Jackson hoopla and thinking how much impact an individual can have on your life. She hasn't died; she's just moving on. She didn't entertain me; she gave life to a dog that I love. We'll stay in touch; I can bounce things off of her if I feel the need. But it won't be the same. I will miss her. The sadness I feel is at least as deep as those mourning Jackson. Such is the nature of a lifeline. The depth of feeling has been earned.