The Time of Her Life

The Time of Her Life

I’m exhausted.  I can’t believe we’re leaving this lovely old house, with all its lovely old issues!  Everything’s packed now, except this rocking chair we’ll take over to Connie’s later. How am I going to leave these scuffed wide pine floors, these leaky old windows, the odd nook behind the chimney that smells of smoke, the  cracked tiles in the corner of the kitchen where Sparky and Frosty used to sleep?  How can I go without Sparky?  Who sells a veterinary practice complete with house and dog?  I know Sparky’s old and sick and too big for Woodland Lawns.  Thank God Frosty’s under the 25lb weight  limit.  It’s a relief to be all packed up though.  I never thought we’d do it.  It was too much for Walt, but Tom’s been great and the new vet’s son spent all summer sorting through our things.  He rolled his eyes a dozen times a day, “Are you sure you want to keep this?” he’d say coming across a cracked tureen, a vile crocheted blanket, three grimy pairs of tortoiseshell reading glasses, a well-thumbed, musty set of “All Creatures Great and Small”, Walt’s service medals, a pile of “National Geographic” dating back to the day I stumbled into the practice and the men couldn’t believe a young woman was training to be a vet. So much has changed since then, no-one blinks an eye at a female vet anymore, yet in other ways little has changed.  The old maple with its leaves turning to flame still guards the practice.  The row of  pines grew tall and creak threateningly  when the wind whips up, but they didn’t crash into the driveway and demolish Walt’s old van.  Not that the van’s there now.  Walt grew too shaky and he had to give up driving, had to give up surgery too for that matter – we kept that a secret for a while, I simply stood in for him. The old timers always  trusted Walt more than me.  He had a sweet way with the animals, I was the no-nonsense one – someone had to be, veterinary practice isn’t all fluffy puppies and kittens and happy families, someone’s got to deliver the bad news when a spine’s riddled with a tumor or a beloved pet has to be put down.  Walt’s over at the practice now “cleaning up”.  When did he ever “clean up?” -  mopping up the urine and disinfecting the floors was women’s work as far as he was concerned.  No, he needs some time on his own to say “Goodbye”.

Shirl’s taking it hard, so I’m giving her some time to herself to go down Memory Lane.  I can’t always grasp my memories anymore – and anyway who wants to live in the past?  There are things in the past it’s best to forget.  I’m ready to turn the page.  No more midnight calls, no more shivering in the filthy straw after a  dumb horse has kicked me, no more wrangling over the size of my bill and wondering if tight-fisted Frank’s ever going to pay. 

I couldn’t believe my eyes when Tom took us to see my brother Ed and Dorothy at their new home in the assisted living complex.  It’s so neat and clean, it’s like a country club.  I think they cut the grass with a pair of scissors, the fences are painted every season, they‘re so white they reflect the sun.  And the attendants zip around in golf carts, wearing golf shirts and wide-open smiles, as if all they had to do today was to play nine holes. And the homes well, of course, they’re smaller than our old house, but clean and bright and convenient.  Extra handles in the shower and an intercom if you need anything.  I’ll be okay there, it’s calm,  predictable, well organized and safe.  I used to think  I needed the animals, needed to help and reassure them as I couldn’t help my boys in Vietnam. Of course there were the sad cases, but once Shirl came along I could pass them on to her.  She’s got the nerves for that.  I  hope she’s got the nerves for our new life.  When she saw Woodland Lawns, she said “Walt, this’ll be the death of you”, I don’t  think she noticed we’d just passed the “Memory Unit”, we’re not going there. We’re going to lie by the pool, count the birds at the feeder outside our French doors, take Frosty for little walks in the grounds, and watch football on the big screen TV.

We’ll have the time of our lives.

OMG!  Uncle Walt and Auntie Shirl ‘d better remember me in their will!  Getting them moved was something else!  They both looked stricken, like a deer caught in the headlights when they walked into their new home.  It did look a bit weird with all their heavy old furniture crammed into the little rooms.  And what made them bring that godawful cuckoo clock?  I guess some  folks just can’t let go.

Why ever did Ed and Dorothy talk me into coming here?  It’s not at all what I expected.  There’s never a moment’s peace and quiet. What with the cleaner popping in, the manager coming to see if we need medications, the dietician checking for allergies, the handyman coming to change a lightbulb, the activities director trying to sign us up for Zumba  - whatever that might be.   And they’re all so cheery, fake, artificial, just like the rest of this place.  They even have plastic turf around the pool.  I can’t sleep here; the nightmares have come back. Dying men, writhing in agony, little children running out of the brush, their hair on fire.  I shake so much I can’t do up my flies.  Shirl sorts me  out if we’re home.  Sometimes I think I’m going out of my mind, I wanted to take Sparky for a walk the other day – I’d forgotten we’d left him behind.  I think I got lost on the way back from the Dining Centre  yesterday.  Nobody needs me anymore, Shirl’s always off with Dorothy; water-color, cooking class, dog obedience! Why does she need dog obedience, she’s a vet for heaven’s sake.  And that’s just it – we’re neither of us vets anymore.  Nobody cares. Perhaps I’ll take Frosty for a walk off this damned campus – it’ll do us both good.

They let me stay here, even though this place is meant for two.  After all we’d only been here eight months.  Management were very  sympathetic, They thought I’d had enough upheaval and stress without another move.  I’ve adapted quite well to living on my own.  I got rid of most of the old furniture and bought some more modern stuff – you can buy furniture online nowadays, and the handyman put it together for me.  I sleep better too – without Walt’s cuckoo clock chirruping, and without Walt, of course, waking up beside me screaming and shaking.  Yes, it’s very sad about Walt.  He doesn’t recognize me anymore.  They found him on his knees sobbing at the side of the freeway.  It seems Frosty had freaked and run into traffic.  Perhaps I’ll get another beagle one day, I miss having animals around.  They took Walt to the Memory Unit.  He can’t know I once told him, it would be the death of him.  He was a hard man to live with, gentle and tender with the animals, but ornery with me.  I was a good vet, but he never gave me credit, just foisted the unsavory cases onto me.  I did all the chores around the house and I kept his war torments secret. I can’t tell for sure, but I hope he’s comfortable and they’ve sedated his demons away.

Apart from a little guilt and some wistfulness about Walt, I count myself lucky. I live in a wonderful community, with immaculate landscaping, manicured grounds, and all the amenities I could ever want.  I’m still relatively young. I’m healthy and I have new friends and new interests.  I plan on having the time of my life.