What's on your mind right now?

Post Reply New Topic

It's very frustrating and isolating when something that's a key part of your identity is something that very few people take seriously.

thank you for thinking of me. Avastin injection in one eye, the injection itself was surprisingly numb, but the stuff they put in my eye stung. the bright multicolored flashing lights they shined in my eyes for the better part of 2 hours taxed my coping skills. I understood what an animal feels when it is in the vet's office. but vision as I type this has improved a bit.

Just trying to enjoy the rest of my day before tomorrow comes, which means I'll be finding my cargo in a different place 21mins away..

Warning: gore, death, animal cruelty.

Every year, just out of the blue, I'll recall a memory of a particular day while living in SF.


We lived on a hill, and people chronically ran the Stop sign. I was actually pretty surprised that no one had been run over, because cars would zoom up the hill and launch over the crest to zoom down the other side without even the hint of a pause.

On a fairly hot day I was lying about, trying not to melt. I was in underwear and a t-shirt, hoping that was good enough with the fan going and that as the afternoon progressed it wouldn't get much hotter, because we lived in a converted garage. So, no AC and no Heat.
As I was gazing up at the ceiling, wishing I could fall asleep and doze the heat away, I heard a car predictably roaring up the hill. I believe I even rolled my eyes, because this car was going exceptionally fast and by this time I'd gotten so used to the utter disregard everyone in the city seemed to have for one another that it no longer got much reaction out of me.
But then, just mere seconds after I heard the jangle of a collar and tags and a dog barking. I remember thinking how incomprehensible it was that people let their dogs run around off leash here knowing how people drive on these streets, and then just with cold clarity my next thought was "That dog is going to get run over..." as I listened to the dog and the car get closer.
It seems, as a memory, like it took so incredibly long and also it happened so very fast. In that next moment, I heard the drop in engine power delivery as the car launched up off the asphalt and into the intersection. I heard the thump. I heard the dog cry out. And I froze. I froze out of shock, despite the thought I'd had just a moment before, I couldn't believe it'd actually happened. I heard people opening their windows, some yelling at each other. And I knew, I just knew, no one was going to go help that dog.
I was right, of course. Which is why I jumped up, threw on whatever clothes were near at hand, and ran out of the house into the street. Maybe the dog was still alive, maybe it was okay and just needed medical attention but couldn't get out of the street, maybe it was just stunned. I had to at least try to help.
I stumbled a bit as I got into the intersection. I lost my footing when I saw the blood running down the hill, and other things. I remember feeling like I was walking through water, a muddy riverbed that was flowing fast. I couldn't seem to move my legs well enough to approach at a normal pace. I looked around and just as I'd known, everyone was staring out their windows but no one made any attempt to come outside.
I bent down, kneeling on the hot black road, and very gently picked him up. His head lolled, his body twitched, but it was very clear he had severe internal organ damage and likely either brain damage or brain stem damage. I felt my heart break into a thousand pieces and turn to dust, just as the owner came running up the hill.

I'll never forget his face. I don't think he'll ever forget mine, either. I could see it as he came up over the crest, he already knew what had happened, knew it in his gut. He stumbled too, he walked too slowly too. As he got close enough, I held my arms out, giving him his dog. I don't know what my face looked like. The impression I get from the memory is wide-eyed, horror-struck, the kind of face you make when you're aware of the tragedy and the grief is waiting just behind the curtain of shock. That was how his face looked, I remember.
We stared at each other, mouths slightly agape, eyes asking one another "Is this really happening? What do I do now?" It felt like we stood there forever. I was only vaguely aware, during all of this, that I could just as easily be run over next. But it didn't matter. I tried to say I'm sorry, I wish I'd seen the car, I wish I knew who did this so you could get some justice. But I couldn't talk, no sound would come out.
The brother to the dog in his arms came trotting up. Tail wagging, looking back and forth between us. He stood on his back legs to sniff at his brother, confused, seeming to think maybe this was a game. Eventually the man looked back down at his dog, turned away slowly and went back the way he came, the near identical twin brother prancing behind him. I kept standing in the street, feeling helpless and powerless and angry and anguished all at the same time. I'd lost a very dear, very amazing, very wonderful pet to the same fate. Run over, body mangled. I couldn't even look at him all the way. I wanted to help that man, I wanted to take away the pain I was all too familiar with. But I couldn't. I couldn't do anything for him.
I looked down at the stain on the white paint line and the black asphalt, and thought "They'll have to see this spot every day, every time they drive this way they'll see that mark and it'll be like it happened all over again." and decided that I could at least prevent that.
So I went inside, got a big bucket and filled it with hot water. It was extremely heavy, and I wasn't very strong at the time. I'd starved recently, literally, because we were too poor to afford enough food so I was malnourished and emaciated. But I'd have been damned if I wasn't going to carry that bucket out there and erase that reminder that would do nothing but hurt them over and over again.
As I got to the spot, I heard what I later found out was his Wife wailing, keening, from 5 houses down the hill. I very carefully poured the hot water over the spot and made sure that all of it was washed away.

As I finished up the elderly woman across the way came out, and began talking to me. I can't recall most of what she said, it all seemed irrelevant. But I remember this: "I knew those dogs since they were puppies.", as though she'd had them taken from her, as though she had loved them dearly. All I could think was "And yet you just stayed safe in your little house and would've let that dog get run over again if another car had come by."
I said nothing to her, simply turned on my heel and went back inside.

I cried for an hour. I cried with the woman who I could hear mourning her dog still.

I found out later that they'd run out of a cracked door as the Husband was coming inside the house.

Part of me still hates those people for not trying to help. I never spoke to that elderly woman again. I couldn't bring myself to forgive her for not helping a dog she'd known as a puppy.


Out of all my memories, all the things I've gone through, that one is the saddest for me. I really couldn't tell you why. I'll probably remember it every year for the rest of my life, and I'll cry every time.

Earlier today I started thinking about tall people, like my brother. Then I went to the store and there was a guy in line who must have been at least 8 feet tall! He must have been the tallest person I ever saw in my whole life!

Being eager to go home for the day.

Worried about auntblabby.

What happened to AuntBlabby?

Just worried about his health.

thank you I appreciate your concern I have highway miles on my '60 model body. I whistle past the boneyard. got an Avastin injection in my right eye yesterday. I can see a bit better today. I gotta do that at least 4 more times or what the VA will approve. old age ain't for sissies

Ugh, I'm still so dang tired all the time. I'd really like to read or play The Sims or something, but I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open. I'm going to bed by 11, getting up around 8, having a nap for 1-3 hours in the afternoon, and am still exhausted all the time. I really wish I knew why and could address it.

Lots of good luck, good health and good wishes. I think it was my Grandfather who used to be fond of saying "It's hell to get old"

Lots of work, to little time for myself... But the money is always welcomed.

thank you i'm too young to be old. but i'm too old to be young, I suppose.

I hope Canada wins some more medals.

I despise my manager