As if your cancer weren't enough,
the guinea pig is dying.
The kids brought him to me
wrapped in a bath towel
‘Do something, Mom.
Save his life.'
I'm a good mom.
I took time from work,
drove him to the vet,
paid $77.00 for his antibiotics.
Now, after the kids rush off to school,
you and I sit on the bed.
I hold the guinea pig, since he bites.
You fill the syringe.
We administer the foul smelling medicine,
hoping the little fellow will live.
admitting to each other:
if he doesn't,
it'll be good practice.
"Guinea Pig" by Julie Cadwallader-Staub. Reprinted with permission of the poet.
the guinea pig is dying.
The kids brought him to me
wrapped in a bath towel
‘Do something, Mom.
Save his life.'
I'm a good mom.
I took time from work,
drove him to the vet,
paid $77.00 for his antibiotics.
Now, after the kids rush off to school,
you and I sit on the bed.
I hold the guinea pig, since he bites.
You fill the syringe.
We administer the foul smelling medicine,
hoping the little fellow will live.
admitting to each other:
if he doesn't,
it'll be good practice.
"Guinea Pig" by Julie Cadwallader-Staub. Reprinted with permission of the poet.
"Johnson" was my daughter's childhood grand-father,her consistant,loving, warm, playful, step-grandfather,her most significant male attachment person as a young child.. I was a young single mom, training to become a doctor,which entailed long sleepless stressful hours away from my young child. I had often to depend on the kindness,generosity of others in helping me to raise my child, especially when I was "on-call" so, Johnson,my mother's boyfriend appeared on the family scene fortuitously close to the time of my daughter's birth. Johnson and my daughter became bosom buddies, so to speak. We had a guinea pig named Fluffy . She was white and fluffy,cute, sweet, but suscebtible to colds. It was also hard to make sure her needs were always well met being a single mom and resident doctor.She was well fed, well watered, cuddled, exercised, but keeping the cage clean was difficult with all the time demands in my life,but we did our best and Fluffy thrived.That is until one very cold January day, that was lots of gineau pig sneezing and wheezing.
I went to work in the hospital and was on call that night,meaning that I would not sleep that night and continue to work through the next day. I would not be home for at least another 36 hours. In the back of my mind , I worried about Fluffy, but really it was not on the top of my thoughts. I had spent that night resucitating premature newborn babies as they tried to hold onto their first inhalations of breath,sat with and tended to frightened children with chemo dripping through their veins , they and I holding on, white knuckling through the wee hours of the night,their parents vigilant at their bed side, some crying in despair others with tears of hope, the garden varieties of diarrhoea, asthma, dehydration ...Every moment weighed so heavily ,portending .
The next afternoon I received a weepy forlorn call from my daughter, Fluffy was sleeping in the corner of her cage, not moving , barely breathing. I think we both understood what this meant. I was asked, Mom, is she dead?I was startled by the simplicity , and honesty of my then 6 year old daughter. I had been living in a world that the fuzzy boundaries between life or death were palpable . I so much did not want to have this conversation through the telephone wires.I wanted to be home.I really can't remember how I answered. It is funny how sometimes, we can not remember the words in a moment that life seems to stand still. I remember feeling that" life did stand still." Nothing can really prepare you for those moments. I probably said ," hold her, stroke her, cover her, that I love you and I will be home soon."
As these things go, there was more to tend to in the hospital. I was not allowed to go home because Fluffy had died or more importantly that my daughter was encountering her first real experience with death. In this setting, I was supposed to be "beyond human."
When I did arrive home many hours later, in the coldness, in the dark, we hugged tightly and for what seemed to be aforever. I went to find Fluffy. She and her cage were gone. I was afraid to ask where she was,yet I had a sense of where she may be. I went alone in the very dark snow covered yard to the trash bin and there she was frozen dead in her cage. The earth was stone, hard cold, I was beyond exhausted. My daughter was peering through the kitchen window. I was so so tired,bewildered myself.. I really do not remember what I did, but I know that my" not remembering" contains a foggy screen of the image of me walking away from the trash can" leaving Fluffy behind."To this day , I am haunted ,ashamed and regret this image of me walking away and the look of bewilderment and dissapointment in my daughter' s eyes.I do not remember what I said at that moment, although years later this image , this topic is revisited.I never discussed the topic with Johnson or my mother who were the babysitters , the guinea pig sitters that day, nor would I ever, as , after-all "I" walked away and did not give Fluffy her proper burial in the stone hard black frozen earth of that winter night.
If we scroll forward about ten years, my daughter , then in college,is studying, Homer's ,"The Iliad". She calls me and reads to me the passsage that Priam is begging Achilles to grant him a proper burial , for Hector his son.Achilles is angry and wanting revenge and is reluctant to move from his position of dragging Hector's body through the streets as Hector killed Patroclus, Achilles' loyal and best friend. At the end, honor wins and Priam is granted his wish,The dialogue goes like this: from the Iliad book24;
I went to work in the hospital and was on call that night,meaning that I would not sleep that night and continue to work through the next day. I would not be home for at least another 36 hours. In the back of my mind , I worried about Fluffy, but really it was not on the top of my thoughts. I had spent that night resucitating premature newborn babies as they tried to hold onto their first inhalations of breath,sat with and tended to frightened children with chemo dripping through their veins , they and I holding on, white knuckling through the wee hours of the night,their parents vigilant at their bed side, some crying in despair others with tears of hope, the garden varieties of diarrhoea, asthma, dehydration ...Every moment weighed so heavily ,portending .
The next afternoon I received a weepy forlorn call from my daughter, Fluffy was sleeping in the corner of her cage, not moving , barely breathing. I think we both understood what this meant. I was asked, Mom, is she dead?I was startled by the simplicity , and honesty of my then 6 year old daughter. I had been living in a world that the fuzzy boundaries between life or death were palpable . I so much did not want to have this conversation through the telephone wires.I wanted to be home.I really can't remember how I answered. It is funny how sometimes, we can not remember the words in a moment that life seems to stand still. I remember feeling that" life did stand still." Nothing can really prepare you for those moments. I probably said ," hold her, stroke her, cover her, that I love you and I will be home soon."
As these things go, there was more to tend to in the hospital. I was not allowed to go home because Fluffy had died or more importantly that my daughter was encountering her first real experience with death. In this setting, I was supposed to be "beyond human."
When I did arrive home many hours later, in the coldness, in the dark, we hugged tightly and for what seemed to be aforever. I went to find Fluffy. She and her cage were gone. I was afraid to ask where she was,yet I had a sense of where she may be. I went alone in the very dark snow covered yard to the trash bin and there she was frozen dead in her cage. The earth was stone, hard cold, I was beyond exhausted. My daughter was peering through the kitchen window. I was so so tired,bewildered myself.. I really do not remember what I did, but I know that my" not remembering" contains a foggy screen of the image of me walking away from the trash can" leaving Fluffy behind."To this day , I am haunted ,ashamed and regret this image of me walking away and the look of bewilderment and dissapointment in my daughter' s eyes.I do not remember what I said at that moment, although years later this image , this topic is revisited.I never discussed the topic with Johnson or my mother who were the babysitters , the guinea pig sitters that day, nor would I ever, as , after-all "I" walked away and did not give Fluffy her proper burial in the stone hard black frozen earth of that winter night.
If we scroll forward about ten years, my daughter , then in college,is studying, Homer's ,"The Iliad". She calls me and reads to me the passsage that Priam is begging Achilles to grant him a proper burial , for Hector his son.Achilles is angry and wanting revenge and is reluctant to move from his position of dragging Hector's body through the streets as Hector killed Patroclus, Achilles' loyal and best friend. At the end, honor wins and Priam is granted his wish,The dialogue goes like this: from the Iliad book24;
Then Priam made his plea, entreating:
"Godlike Achilles,
remember your own father, who's as old as me,
on the painful threshold of old age.
It may well be that those who live around him
are harassing him, and no one's there 600
to save him from ruin and destruction.
But when he hears you're still alive, [490]
his heart feels joy, for every day he hopes
he'll see his dear son come back home from Troy.
But I'm completely doomed to misery,
for I fathered the best sons in spacious Troy,
yet I say now not one of them remains.
I had fifty when Achaea's sons arrived—
nineteen born from the same mother's womb,
others the women of the palace bore me. 610
Angry Ares drained the life of most of them.
But I had one left, guardian of our city,
protector of its people. You've just killed him,
as he was fighting for his native country. [500]
I mean Hector. For his sake I've come here,
to Achaea's ships, to win him back from you.
And I've brought a ransom beyond counting.
So Achilles, show deference to the gods
and pity for myself, remembering
your own father. Of the two old men, 620
I'm more pitiful, because I have endured
what no living mortal on this earth has borne—
I've lifted to my lips and kissed
the hands of the man who killed my son."
Priam finished. His words roused in Achilles
a desire to weep for his own father. Taking Priam's hand,
he gently moved him back. So the two men there
both remembered warriors who'd been slaughtered.
Priam, lying at Achilles' feet, wept aloud [510]
for man-killing Hector, and Achilles also wept 630
for his own father and once more for Patroclus.
The sound of their lamenting filled the house.
a desire to weep for his own father. Taking Priam's hand,
he gently moved him back. So the two men there
both remembered warriors who'd been slaughtered.
Priam, lying at Achilles' feet, wept aloud [510]
for man-killing Hector, and Achilles also wept 630
for his own father and once more for Patroclus.
The sound of their lamenting filled the house.
When godlike Achilles had had enough of weeping,
when the need to mourn had left his heart and limbs,
he stood up quickly from his seat, then with his hand
helped the old man to his feet, feeling pity
for that gray head and beard. Then Achilles spoke—
his words had wings:
when the need to mourn had left his heart and limbs,
he stood up quickly from his seat, then with his hand
helped the old man to his feet, feeling pity
for that gray head and beard. Then Achilles spoke—
his words had wings:
"You unhappy man,
your heart's had to endure so many evils.
How could you dare come to the Achaea's ships, 640
and come alone, to rest your eyes on me, [520]
when I've killed so many noble sons of yours?
You must have a heart of iron. But come now,
sit on this chair. Though we're both feeling pain,
we'll let our grief lie quiet on our hearts.
For there's no benefit in frigid tears.
That's the way the gods have spun the threads
for wretched mortal men, so they live in pain,
though gods themselves live on without a care.
On Zeus' floor stand two jars which hold his gifts— 650
one has disastrous things, the other blessings.
When thunder-loving Zeus hands out a mixture,
that man will, at some point, meet with evil, [530]
then, some other time, with good. When Zeus' gift
comes only from the jar containing evil,
he makes the man despised. An evil frenzy
drives him all over sacred earth—he wanders
without honour from the gods or mortal men.
Consider Peleus. The gods gave him gifts,
splendid presents, right from birth. In wealth, 660
in his possessions, he surpassed all men.
And he was king over the Myrmidons.
Though he was mortal, the gods gave him
a goddess for a wife. But even to him
the gods gave evil, too, for in his palace
there sprang up no line of princely children.
He had one son, doomed to an early death. [540]
I'll not look after him as he grows old,
since I'm a long way from my native land,
sitting here in Troy, bringing pain to you 670
and to your children. Think of yourself, old man.
We hear that you were fortunate in former times.
In all the lands from Lesbos to the south,
where Macar ruled, and east to Phrygia,
to the boundless Hellespont, in all these lands,
old man, they say that you surpassed all men
for wealth and children. But from the time
you got disaster from the heavenly gods,
man-killing battles round your city
have never ceased. You must endure it all, 680
without a constant weeping in your heart.
You achieve nothing by grieving for your son. [550]
You won't bring him to life again, not before
you'll have to suffer yet another evil."
Old godlike Priam then answered Achilles:
"Don't make me sit down on a chair, my lord,
while Hector lies uncared for in your huts.
But quickly give him back, so my own eyes
can see him. And take the enormous ransom
we've brought here for you. May it give you joy. 690
And may you get back to your native land,
since you've now let me live to see the sunlight."
With an angry look, swift-footed Achilles snapped at Priam:
"Old man, don't provoke me. I myself intend [560]
to give you Hector. Zeus sent me here
a messenger, the mother who bore me,
daughter of the old man of the sea.
And in my heart, Priam, I recognize—
it's no secret to me—that some god
led you here to the swift Achaean ships. 700
No matter how young and strong, no living man
would dare to make the trip to our encampment.
He could not evade the sentries, or push back
our door bolts—that would not be easy.
So don't agitate my grieving heart still more,
or I might not spare even you, old man,
though you're a suppliant in my hut. [570]
I could transgress what Zeus has ordered."
Achilles spoke. The old man, afraid, obeyed him.
Then Peleus' son sprang to the door, like a lion. 710
Not alone—his two attendants went out with him,
warrior Automedon and Alcimus, whom he honoured
the most of his companions after dead Patroclus.
They freed the mules and horses from their harnesses,
led in the herald, the old man's crier, sat him on a stool.
Then from the polished wagon they brought in
that priceless ransom for Hector's head, leaving there
two cloaks and a thickly woven tunic, so Achilles [580]
could wrap up the corpse before he gave it back
for Priam to take home. Achilles then called out, 720
ordering his servant women to wash the body,
and then anoint it, after moving it away,
so Priam wouldn't see his son, then, heart-stricken,
be unable to contain his anger at the sight.
Achilles' own spirit might then get so aroused
he could kill Priam, disobeying Zeus' orders.
Servants washed the corpse, anointed it with oil,
then put a lovely cloak and tunic round it.
Achilles himself lifted it and placed it on a bier.
Then together he and his companions set it 730 [590]
on the polished wagon. Achilles, with a groan,
called to his dear companion:
So, as parents , as humans there are times we wish we could have done it differently, that we we wish we were not as tired, as cold , that we were stronger, less flawed, wiser, more compassionate, but we can not turn back time or erase some images that we carry with us. But sometimes something beyond our human perception takes hold, sometimes our greatest follies are our gratest teachers and sometimes, those near and dear to us forgive our mere human state and even learn from watching our foibles and try to do it differently. So, this young child who watched her beloved Fluffy get left to the cold trash becomes inrtigued with stories of honor,dignity, the noble rituals of how we live and die , the human condition in antiquity, the god like and human like ancient Greeks, the human quandries of the Trojan War and then one day, she ponders spending some time in her own life "retrieving the forlorn amongst us humans from the trash".It is so interesting and miraculous, that I awake to a poem in my email from the"Writer's Almanac" about a family guinea pig dying of cancer and think about our Fluffy, our Johnson,my daughter,Priam, Achilles and Patroclus and how myself to live a nobler life.There are so many ways that we are all connected through time, through space,through memory through the commonality we share that makes us as human as we all are....Then Peleus' son sprang to the door, like a lion. 710
Not alone—his two attendants went out with him,
warrior Automedon and Alcimus, whom he honoured
the most of his companions after dead Patroclus.
They freed the mules and horses from their harnesses,
led in the herald, the old man's crier, sat him on a stool.
Then from the polished wagon they brought in
that priceless ransom for Hector's head, leaving there
two cloaks and a thickly woven tunic, so Achilles [580]
could wrap up the corpse before he gave it back
for Priam to take home. Achilles then called out, 720
ordering his servant women to wash the body,
and then anoint it, after moving it away,
so Priam wouldn't see his son, then, heart-stricken,
be unable to contain his anger at the sight.
Achilles' own spirit might then get so aroused
he could kill Priam, disobeying Zeus' orders.
Servants washed the corpse, anointed it with oil,
then put a lovely cloak and tunic round it.
Achilles himself lifted it and placed it on a bier.
Then together he and his companions set it 730 [590]
on the polished wagon. Achilles, with a groan,
called to his dear companion:
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