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​Sick & Tired

MY KNEES are now the biggest part of my legs.

Then my ankles.
I didn’t think it was possible to lose as much weight as this but it’s par for the cancer course. My friend and chemo roommate Dane has lost 127lbs, down from his original majestic 267. Denise Plummer had to have lost as much, proportionate to her frame.
But it’s not the thinness.
The thinness you could live with.
It’s the attendant tiredness.
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​Out of Bond Age

HE CAME to us out of a Bajan canefield, dragging a six-foot long, heavy iron chain attached to a rough rope collar around his neck. It seemed bizarre that, in a place where so many people were kept in chains for so long, someone today should have chosen to put such a big one on such a little dog.

But, having got to know him, I realise now it was necessary: it took heavy weights and hard cobbling to keep such a free spirit down.
His all-white fur was all mud from the fields. He was so thin, his tail looked like a piece of twine. His head, so much bigger than the rest of his body, gave him the overall look of an apostrophe. He was already blind in one eye and, within months of going completely blind, would also go stone deaf. The vet estimated he was 20 years old.
My wife, out for a bike ride, picked him up, freed him from the rope and chain, and rode home with him clutched securely in her forearm, he was that small. I said we could keep him at once: he would die in the night and I would dig a tiny grave in the morning. At least he would have had a good last supper.
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