The cell phone rang at 1:25pm and sure enough it was Barb Lawrence. In her hurried voice she told me that Dr. Grazek’s office just called a second time, asking if I would be able to bring Quinn in at 2pm instead of 5pm. Like stink on shit, I jumped on that opportunity. It seemed liked every hour counted, even though it didn’t.
I drove to a back street in Aptos that I didn’t know existed. It was a street that seemed part residential and part commercial. I saw the sign that read Opthalmology for Animals and knew I was in the right place. I parked the van, walked around to the side door, opened it, and Quinn jumped down like she had done 5,007x before.
The small office had a very peaceful ambience. I noticed a white parrot in a cage in the corner being very quiet. As I was walking in, there was a quiet, one eyed dog being led out by a quiet owner himself. Quinn and I followed suit, neither of us making a peep. I arrived ten minutes early, and as we were still walking towards the front desk, the young lady behind the desk quietly said, “This must be Quinn.”
I filled out a little bit of paperwork and then was led to a small room where a very capable and confident vet tech began doing all sorts of eye tests that I was warned might be a bit uncomfortable for Dog. Well whether it was uncomfortable or not, Animal accepted the prodding and poking without so much a shudder. I was then told that Dr. Grazek would be in shortly.
The door opened shortly thereafter but it wasn’t Dr. Grazek, rather Barbara Lawrence. Holy Crap! The same Barbara Lawrence who got Quinn and I this critical appointment with a doctor who’s schedule I was told is booked many months in advance. The same Barbara Lawrence who’s husband had passed away but four days prior, and had now driven roughly 10 miles in the first big rainstorm of the winter just to be there with me and Quinn. She had her blind dog Emma in her arms.
“Aaron if you don’t want me to be here that’s fine too, I was just needing to get out of the house for a few hours and figured you were going to need someone to help process the information you are going to receive at this appointment, and I’ve been down this road with this office for the past ten years or so, and I’m just trying to be helpful because I love you and Quinn so much,” she said.
When Doctor walked in, I knew right away this was no quote unquote ordinary vet. I’m not sure she even is a vet. She’s more of an eye doctor that only serves animals. She had this unmatched animal aura to her that instantly put me at ease. She and Barbara hugged. She extended her arm to me and introduced herself as Ann.
She already had mini treats in her hand. I forget which kind. The treats were already being sussed out by Quinn. Before long, she was allowing Quinn to nibble on small treats out of her palm without ever taking her eyes off me and without ever putting any kind of halt to the small talk she was still making with Barbara. Boggling.
After the introductions, Ann opened one of her metal drawers and pulled out this helmet shaped device with what appeared to be multiple extensions with various forms of light, laser, and magnification. Actually, first she put on these extra magnified collapse-able eyeglasses, then she put on the helmet gizmo. She grabbed a staple gun shaped widget that was connected to a cable that was connected to a computer readout monitor.
She looked and looked and looked. She sprayed and sprayed and sprayed. The process was short, maybe three minutes. Quinn handled the onslaught as stoically as one would think is possible. The onlooking tech even commented what a very good girl she was being.
Doctor Ann Grazek put down her widget, took off the contraption, removed her magnified eyeglasses, and said this:
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I was gutted. Remaining calm wasn’t the problem, remaining upright was. My past was flashing all around me, and at the same time I was so frightened by the journey ahead. I fought hard to get present. I focused on just my breath. Asking questions didn’t seem to be in the air, so I refrained. It’s hard to remember exactly what was running through my mind at that time.
Barbara said her goodbyes as I sat in the front lobby area waiting for the expensive eye drops to be prepared. I still hadn’t had one thing to eat all day. I noticed there was a small granite dish on the front desk in the shape of two hands making an offering. Inside that dish, so far as I was able to tell, appeared to be Bite Size Baby Ruth’s.
With the 60 calorie sugar boost, I was essentially able to pay my bill, grab the expensive eye drops, and say thank you and goodbye. It was still pouring rain when we walked out of the office. I opened up the side door and she made the motions of wanting to jump up, but it didn’t seem to be in her picture. Because her eyes had been under such attack, she had to gauge the jump like never before. I was getting more wobbly by the second. Just as I was about ready to help her up is when she jumped up on her own.
Although the numbers pertaining to the pressure in Quinn’s eyes had been reduced by half, and although, despite the gloom and doom prognosis, I knew that I had received the most high level care and expertise in this particular field, I needed another second to completely crack again.
I wasn’t going to let Quinn witness this particular breakdown, so I sat on the rear bumper and let it loose. This was a new kind of breakdown. A breakdown that had nothing to do with a loss. A breakdown that had nothing to do with a breakup. A heavy-duty breakdown nonetheless.