Darkest Night (part 2)

Time crawled by.  Sally and Ron brought some food from their home, but the stress from watching her chestnut companion suffering as he was had killed any inkling of an appetite for Janice. 

She walked Drifter as the sky blazed with orange, red and purple from the setting sun.  She walked him through the plummeting temperatures of an early-March dusk and into the night as the stars began to twinkle overhead in the clear, inky sky.

            Janice lost track of time. 

At some point, after the sky had grown dark, Ron and Sally went home again.  They had kids to take care of.  But Sally promised to be back soon and said to call if Dr. Hanson returned.

The light from the open barn door spilled out into the night, but it didn’t reach Janice and Drifter as they paced up and down, back and forth.  She wanted to change the monotony of the pacing by walking along the edge of the field, but she didn’t want to leave the proximity of the barn.  What if vet called?

Then Drifter sank to the ground, his legs curled under him, muzzle resting on the ground. 

Janice panicked.  She tugged on the lead, trying to coax Drifter back onto his feet.  He lifted his head and stretched his neck, but refused to get up.

The more she tried to pull the horse to his feet and met with resistance, the more her panic grew.  After five minutes of getting no results, she started yelling for help. 

Her voice echoed through the countryside, an agitated cry for help that received no answer.  Hot tears streaked her face, frosting over in the cold night air.

“Please, Drifter!  Get up!” she sobbed to him.  “Please get up.  Please.  We have to keep walking.  Please.”  Her voice wracked with the hiccups of her crying as she pleaded with Drifter to hold on, to live.

When her pleas fell flat, she left Drifter lying in the grass at the side of the drive and ran to the barn for the cordless phone.  She hit the speed-dial for the vet’s office as she ran back to where Drifter lay puffing hot breath in the wintry air, head bowed, his eyes closed.

When the receptionist picked up at the office, Janice quickly explained her situation. 

“I’m sorry,” the girl said, “Dr. Hanson is still on a call.  I can have Dr. Brown call you back when he gets out of his procedure.”

In a flash Janice was hysterical.  “My horse is dying!” she screamed into the phone.  “I need a doctor!”

“Hold on,” the girl said.  The phone clicked, and Janice stood with silence in her ear.

While she waited, she dropped to her knees in front of Drifter and hugged his big head.  She stroked his ears, begging him to hold on for her.  Telling him he was going to be ok.

The line picked up again.  “This is Dr. Brown,” a strong male voice said.

“My horse is dying,” Janice wailed.

“Miss, I need you to calm down.  You can’t help your horse if you’re hysterical.  You need to calm down.”

Janice took several deep breaths.  “Ok.”

“Now tell me what’s going on.”

“He laid down, and now he won’t get up,” she said.

“Ok,” Dr. Brown said, his voice soothing edges of Janice’s raw nerves.  “You’ve been walking him for a long time.  He’s probably just tired.  Let him rest.  As long as he doesn’t roll, he’s fine.  If he tries to roll, get him up again.”

Janice sighed and wiped her tears away.  “Ok.”

“Dr. Hanson is on her way back to the office.  After she cleans up, she’ll be back out.  Half-hour at the most.  Ok?  Stay calm.”

“Ok.  Thank you.”

Janice hung up and took the handset back to the barn office.  When she returned, she sat on the cold grass beside Drifter and stroked him.  She spoke to him softly.  “I love you, big guy,” she cooed.  “You’re gonna be ok.  You have to be ok.  I love you.” 

She was still sitting with him when Sally pulled up.  Dr. Hanson was right behind her. 

Janice pulled herself to her feet and went to talk to the vet, leaving Drifter where he lay.  Dr. Hanson met her half-way.

“I’m going to do a TPR again.  Then we’ll go from there,” the vet told Janice.

They walked back to Drifter, and working together the three women were able to get the horse to his feet.  Janice led him to the barn so Dr. Hanson could work in the light.

His heart-rate was up to ninety beats per minute.  His respiration was about forty breaths per minute, and his temperature was up to 103.5.  In short, his condition was getting worse. 

“I’d like to do a belly tap,” Dr. Hanson told Janice.  “I use a needle to take fluid from the stomach.  It gives me a more accurate idea of what’s going on inside.”

“Do whatever you have to do,” Janice said.

Dr. Hanson used a long needle and drew fluid out of Drifter’s stomach.  It was pink and cloudy.  She brought it to show Janice.  “There’s blood in his stomach,” she said.  “That tells me that his small intestine is starting to die.  I’m afraid that he’s going to need surgery to help him.  You have two options:  Leesburg, or New Bolton.” 

Janice listened to Dr. Hanson realizing that Drifter’s life was now on the line.  “Well, I know I want New Bolton,” she said.  Her trainer had said that she would always take the longer trip to New Bolton because of experiences she’d had at both facilities.

“Ok.  I’ll call up there and talk to a surgeon before you make your final decision,” Dr. Hanson told her.  She picked up the phone and dialed the surgery center.

After a long discussion with the surgeon on duty, involving a rundown of Drifter’s symptoms and vital signs and the initial cost for Janice, Dr. Hanson hung up.  She turned to Janice.  “Well, Dr. Gabbon agrees that the belly tap means that Drifter definitely needs surgery.  He said the surgery starts at two-thousand dollars.  That is the initial cost of putting Drifter on the table to open him up and see what’s going on.  After they determine what needs to be done, they will call you and give you the options and costs from that point.”   

Staring at the floor, Janice repeated the words that dashed her hopes on the sharp rocks that were the reality of financial burdens.  “Two-thousand dollars,” she said.  Then she looked Dr. Hanson in the eyes.  “Two-thousand dollars?  Just to open him up?”

“Yes.  From there the cost goes up.  Dr. Gabbon agrees that the belly tap indicates Drifter’s small intestine is dying.  As with all surgeries, there are no guarantees, but Drifter’s chances are less.  If you decide to go, we need to get him on the road as soon as possible.” 

She paused, seeming to think through the situation again.  Then she added, “It’s about a two-hour drive to New Bolton from here.  He could sleep in the trailer.  However, with his vitals so elevated, you have to be prepared for the possibility that he won’t make the trip.”

Janice sank into a chair.  “I have to call my mom,” she said.  “She’s the one paying.”

Sally and the vet left to give her privacy.  She picked up the phone and dialed the long-distance number home.  Her mother picked up on the second ring.  “Hello?”  This was not the first time Janice had called her mother during the day, so she was already prepped for the call.

“Mom?”

“Janice, what’s going on?  How is Drifter?”

“Not good.  He needs surgery.  I’d have to take him to New Bolton, at the University of Pennsylvania.”

“Oh, honey,” her mother sighed.  “Did you get an estimate?” 

Janice knew her mother would pay the bill for anything Drifter needed—within reason.  Not for the first time, tears welled and spilled down her cheeks.  Her voice was defeated as she told her mother what Dr. Hanson had said.

Her mother began crying, too.  “Oh, baby.  I’m so sorry.  You decide what you want to do.  I’ll pay for it.”

But Janice couldn’t bring herself to say “let’s do the surgery.”  She didn’t want to put her mother in the position of paying such an astronomical bill with such a slim chance of success.  And she didn’t want Drifter to suffer on a long trip that he might not live through.

Her silent tears became full-on sobs of despair.  “I don’t want him to suffer, Mom.  I don’t want him to suffer.  He might not make the trip.  Even if he did, his chances in surgery are slim.  Oh, Mom, I don’t want to lose him!”

“I know, honey.  But now you have to decide.  I know it’s not easy.  It’s never easy, but have to decide what you think is best for Drifter.”

“I know.  I think I know what’s best, but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I know.  Nothing will make it easier, Janice.”

“Ok.  Thanks, Mom.  I’m going to go talk to the vet.  I’ll call you later.”

“Ok.  I love you,” her mother said.

“Love you, too, Mom.  Bye.” 

“Bye.”  Then the phone clicked into silence.

Janice went out into the barn aisle to find Sally and Dr. Hanson standing with Drifter.  When they saw her tear-streaked face, eyes puffy from crying, they brought Drifter to her.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed into his soft chestnut fur.  The horse turned his head and nudged her with his nose.

“Do you know what you want to do?” Dr. Hanson asked.

“Yes.”  Janice released her hug and faced the vet.  “If his chances are so slim, I don’t want him to suffer anymore.”  She began crying again.

“So, you don’t want to take him to New Bolton.”  It was not a question. 

“No.  Not if he isn’t going to make it anyway.  That’s not fair to him.”

“Ok.”  Dr. Hanson placed her hand on Janice’s arm.  “I need you to tell me what to do, Janice.”

“You want me to say it?” she cried.

“You have to tell me what to do.  I can’t do anything without you telling me.”  The look of anguish that faced her pushed her to help Janice say it.  “Do you want me to euthanize Drifter?  Just say yes or no.”

Janice dropped her gaze to the dirty floor, fresh sobs wracking her body.  She nodded her head.

“I need you to say it, Janice.”  When Janice lifted her head, all she could do was nod again, so Dr. Hanson repeated the question.  “Do you want me to put Drifter to sleep peacefully?  Take him out of his pain?”

This time she took Janice’s nod as a yes, knowing that the young woman couldn’t actually say it.  “Alright.  You spend some time with him.  I’ll go get everything ready.”

“Can I stay with him?” Janice asked, finding her voice again.  “How does this work?  Will he be lying down?  Can I hold his head in my lap?”

Dr. Hanson looked at her with sympathy.  “I’m sorry, but he’ll be standing.  I can’t have you near him when I give the injection because he might fall on you.  Sometimes things happen, too that aren’t what an owner wants to see.”

“Oh,” Janice said, feeling dejected.  In his last moments, she wouldn’t be able to be by Drifter’s side.  The knowledge only deepened the wounds in her shattering heart. 

Sally put comforting hands on her shoulders from behind.  “I know a company that can dispose of his body for you.”

“I want to have him cremated,” Janice said.  On this she was adamant.  She didn’t want her beloved friend being thrown in a pit somewhere unknown.  She also didn’t want him thrown in a crematorium with a bunch of other animals.  “And I want his ashes back,” she added.

Sally and Dr. Hanson looked at each other.  The vet seemed to think about it for a moment, then she said, “I can get the numbers of a couple places that may do a private cremation for you.  That’s at the office, though, so I’ll leave them for you when you come in.  I’ll also get the numbers of a few places that may haul him for you.”

“Ok.  Thank you,” Janice said.

While Dr. Hanson went to her truck to get ready, Sally stayed with Janice.  “I’m really sorry about this,” she said.  “You haven’t had him very long, have you?”

“I got him when he was two,” Janice said.  “He just turned nine, so I’ve had him for seven years.”

“Oh,” Sally was surprised.  “I thought you just got him.  When you told me about the other barn, I thought that was his first place with you.”

“No.  He lived at home for a long time, but I wanted to bring him up here with me.  I missed him.”  Fresh tears stung her eyes as Janice thought about how she would now miss Drifter for the rest of her life.  “He’s never been sick.  Not one day.  Now I’m going to lose him.”

“I’ll give you some time alone with him,” Sally said.  Then she went into the office.

Janice turned toward Drifter, pressing her forehead to the white blaze running down his face.  She hugged his head, and told him how much she loved him.  Her hands found his fuzzy ears and massaged them before running through his forelock.  Moving to his side, she stroked his strong neck, combing tangles out of his mane with her fingers.  Losing herself to the wrenching pain again, she wrapped him in a tight hug and sobbed into his fur.  He wrapped his head around and hugged her back for the last time.

Dr. Hanson came back.  “Are you ready?” she asked. 

“I think so,” Janice said in a voice squeaky with her crying.  She turned back to Drifter one last time.  “I love you, big guy.  I love you so much.”  Then she handed the lead to Sally who walked him outside and around the side of the barn.  Dr. Hanson followed.

After what seemed like forever, the women came back.  Dr. Hanson told Janice that she could come to the office tomorrow to get the information.  She didn’t have to pay anything yet, they would send a bill.  Sally asked if she was ok to drive home, or if she needed a ride.  But Janice just wanted to be alone. 

She cried the entire ride home.  Her life had changed forever, leaving a gaping hole in her heart that ached like nothing she’d felt before. 

Darkest Night (1st installment)

The message on the answering machine said that Drifter wasn’t acting right.  He was kicking and biting at his belly.  Did Janice want the vet called?

She called the stable right away.  “Rolling Hills Farm,” the owner’s voice said.

“Sally?  It’s Janice.  What’s going on?”

“Oh, Janice.  I’m glad you called.  Drifter just isn’t himself.  He’s kicking and biting at his belly, and about fifteen minutes ago he started rolling.  Just acting colicky.  I didn’t have a number or name for your vet, so I called mine.  I hope that’s okay.” 

Panic screamed through Janice, but she did her best to push it down.  “That’s fine.  I’ll be there in about ten minutes,” she told Sally.  Her thoughts were running away with her.  How bad was he?  Would they be able to help him?  How much would this cost?

“Alright.  We’ve been walking him to keep everything moving.  See you soon.  Bye.”

“Bye,” Janice said just as she hung up. 

She pulled her sneakers off, and crammed her feet into her muck boots.  Her coat was still on, and her keys in the pocket, so she ran out the door.

The blue Saturn flew over the country roads as Janice maneuvered the little car around sharp turns and over blind hills in her race to the barn.  She “California-stopped” at stop signs, even flooring the gas to beat the train crossing before it blocked the road.

           

The barn at Rolling Hill Farm sat atop a small hill, its white sides and green roof a beacon from the road.  As Janice pulled up the long gravel and dirt drive, she could see Sally’s husband, Ron, walking Drifter.  He waved as she pulled in, and signaled her to go to the office. 

Sally met her inside.  “He seems to be doing ok,” she said after hellos were exchanged.  “We’ve been walking him for about a half-hour, now.  The vet just called.  She’s on her way.”

The woman walked outside and watched man and horse walk back and forth up and down the drive. 

“He looks thin,” Sally said. 

“I know.  That’s why I wanted to move him.  I don’t know what they were feeding him at that place, but I don’t think it’s what I provided.  He was only there for like three months.  He shouldn’t have dropped weight like that.  If it was just the drive, I wouldn’t have been so anxious to get him out.”

“Well, it’ll take some time, but we’ll get the weight back on him.  Unfortunately, it comes off faster than it goes back on,” Sally said.  “Now that you’re here, I have to run to the house to get hot water.  The vet might need it, and we’re not hooked up just yet.”

“Ok.  I’ll go take my turn at walking him.”

Dr. Hanson arrived about ten minutes later.  She started her exam with a TPR—temperature, pulse, respiration—noting the results in the file.  Her stethoscope roamed around Drifter’s abdomen, listening for gut sounds.  More notes were made.

The doctor turned to Janice when she finished.  “His heart rate is about fifty to sixty beats per minute.  His respiration is around twenty-five.  And his temperature is 102.5.  All slightly elevated.  I don’t hear any gut sounds, and that worries me the most.  I’m going to give him a mineral oil treatment to help pass anything that could be blocking his intestines.  I’ll need some hot water.  Do you have that here?”

“My wife went to get some from the house.  She should be back soon,” Ron said.

“Good,” said Dr. Hanson.  “You keep walking him,” she told Janice.  With that she walked back to her truck to get supplies.

Sally pulled in, and Ron helped her carry four gallon jugs of hot water to the vet’s truck.  The hot water was mixed with mineral oil in a large brown bottle.

Dr. Hanson came back with the watered-down mineral oil, a funnel, and a long rubber tube.  Janice stopped Drifter so the vet could begin her work.  Dr. Hanson slid the tube up one of Drifter’s nostrils and down into his stomach.  Once it was in place, she affixed the funnel to the other end and began to pour the mixture into the funnel, lifting it up every so often to drain the contents into Drifter’s stomach.

“You can keep walking him now,” she told Janice.  They started a slow walk while the doctor poured and lifted, poured and lifted.

About five minutes into the treatment, Drifter let out a harsh sneeze.  Blood ran out of his nose, staining the white snip on his muzzle.  A bloody blob of fleshy goo stuck to the sleeve of Janice’s barn coat.  The vet assured her that he was fine.  Sometimes the tube could cause mild trauma, especially with the walking.

They walked and treated him for twenty minutes.  Then the tube came out.  “Keep him moving,” Dr. Hanson said.  And she began to clean up.

When she was cleaned up and ready to go, she went to talk to Sally and Ron.  Janice walked Drifter up to them, and Ron took the lead so the vet could talk to her.

“Walk him for another half-hour or so.  Then let him rest for a while,” Dr. Hanson told Janice.  “I have a foaling call to attend to, but I’ll be back after that.  He should be fine until then.  If you notice anything, call the office.  Dr. Brower is there.  He’ll be able to help.

“In the meantime, you guys get something to eat.  I’ll be back as soon as I can.”  She shook both women’s hands and left for her next call.

Downward Spiral

Friday, April 10

            I knew it was coming.  The first notice came from corporate six months ago.  There’s been plenty of time to plan for the inevitable, but I didn’t expect it to come so abruptly.  I guess since all the inventory from my store is to be added to the other branch, the big wigs at corporate decided it would be easier to just close mine and empty it during daylight hours.

            Devon, Justin, and I got severance, but that’s because we’re salary.  Still, it would have been nicer if they had offered us positions at other branches.  Now we’re left with our severance pay and any vacation or sick time we had accrued.

            I’m completely devastated at the loss.  I mean, I’ll have plenty of money to hold me over for a good while, but I had my heart and soul in that store.  It was my pride.  It gave me a sense of success, like I had finally done something worthwhile.

            I worked hard to get there.  I gave them ten years of my life.  I cherished the day I was made store manager.

            Well, that’s all over now.  Now I’m just Dana Handen, another statistic of the unemployment office.  Not that I qualify for unemployment.  I was told that my severance agreement was too “lofty” to qualify me.  Isn’t that some B.S.?

            I brought home all my things from my office this afternoon.  I took some things that weren’t really mine since they were purchased with corporate funds, but I don’t care.  They’re not going to do anything with that stuff.  They don’t even know what the money went to.  For all they know, I used it to buy reams of paper and ink cartridges for the printer.  It’s only office supplies anyway.  Things like organizers and whatnot that helped me make my desk a little more workable.

Sunday, April 12

            I just got home from the hospital.  Dad had a “mild” heart attack, though how a heart attack can be “mild” is beyond my comprehension.  Seems to me that if your heart wants to quit working it’s a pretty serious thing.

            The doctors said he’s going to be fine.  They’re keeping him for observation for a few days.  He didn’t need any heroics or surgery to save his life—thank God—but they still want to monitor him. 

            I say, “Good.”  They should monitor him.  Maybe this will be what finally gets him to slow down.

Wednesday, April 15

            “When it rains, it pours.”  Whoever came up with that phrase should get a Nobel Prize of some sort.

            Rich just left. . .with all his stuff, and without his key.  He came over this afternoon to tell me he’s been seeing another woman.  Apparently, it’s been going on for quite a while—about seven months.

            Of course, it’s all my fault.  I was so engrossed in my career that he felt neglected, so he sought attention elsewhere.  Why couldn’t he just come to me about it?  I’d have given him more time.  I would have stayed home more.  Why did he just leave me behind?  After four years together, he dumped me like I was no big deal.

            He said he’s been friends with this woman for a long time, and she was there for him in my absence.  That means that I must know her.  I wonder which bitch it could be.

Later. . .

            I just got off the phone with Carmen.  She was sympathetic with my woes, but it didn’t feel like she was entirely sincere.  Maybe I’m just becoming suspicious of anyone that was around Rich.  I mean, come on, Carmen and I have been friends for at least ten years.  She would never do  anything like that.

            I don’t think she really cared though.  She and Rich never really got along too well.  Sometimes I got the impression that they tolerated each other just to amuse me.  That being said, I was definitely having a bit of paranoid delusion even toying with the idea that it’s her Rich has been seeing.

Saturday, April 18

            I just want to die.  I have nobody to turn to anymore.  My parents are both in the hospital after Dad had another “minor” heart attack.  Rich left me for my best friend.  And my car is totaled.

            Oh yeah, it was Carmen that Rich was seeing.  I saw the two of them at a café yesterday as I was walking by.  They were hanging all over each other.  Laughing and giggling like high school lovers.  I guess they feel like they don’t have to hide anymore.

            What’s worse is that another of our mutual friends was with them.  That means I’m the only one who didn’t know.  That means I can’t trust anybody.

            Wait, wait.  It gets even better.  I was so upset that I managed to slide my car sideways into a telephone pole on the way home.  I took the turn at the end of my road too fast—way too fast—and ended up with the right side of my car wrapped around the telephone pole on the corner.  The ambulance took me to the hospital, but they pronounced me ok to go home.

            I called a cab.  I don’t feel like seeing any of my friends right now.  I feel so betrayed by all of them.  I didn’t even tell my parents.  They don’t need any more worries.

            I need to go open another bottle of wine.  This one’s empty already.

Sunday, April 19

            Wow.  I woke up with one hell of a headache this morning.  Maybe I should space out my alcohol a little more.  To be honest, I’m surprised I was able to make it through three bottles of wine.  I should’ve been asleep well into the first one.  I’ll have to make a trip to the liquor store to replenish my stock.

            I noticed that the previous page of my journal has some splotches or red wine and some smeared spots that could only be tear stains.  Oh well, it’s well deserved.  I’ve been through a lot in the past week.

Evening. . .

            I’ve made a wonderful meal of ramen noodles complimented with a glass of white wine.  It’s good to have comfort food in times of self-wallowing.  Everyone should have such a food.

            I stocked up well at the store.  Not only did I buy several bottles of white and red wine, I also bought bottles of Maker’s Mark, Bombay Sapphire, Crown Royal, and Absolute.  I figured I should stock up my entire bar.

Later. . .

            Well, one bottle of wine is gone already, and I’ve broken into the whiskey.  It’s amazing how the alcohol can help to drown your sorrows.  I’ve got some movie on the TV, but I don’t know what it’s called.  (I can’t read the title at the bottom of the screen because it’s blurry.)

Wednesday, April 22

            I was woken up this morning by my mother who must have called at least four times until I answered.  I didn’t really want to deal with her because my head is killing me, but I wanted to know how Daddy is fairing.

            I can’t remember anything but little snatches since last I wrote.  I have noticed that most of the alcohol I bought over the weekend is gone.  And I must have been coherent enough to eat because the noodles are gone, too.  Guess I’ll be making another trip to the store.

            Maybe I should go clothes shopping, just to get out of the house.  I wish I could call Carmen and ask her to go.  I think she called sometime during my stupor, but I didn’t want to talk to her.  I wonder if she knows why I haven’t called.

Afternoon. . .

            Well, I just spent $200 on new clothes.  I don’t need any of it, but it sure felt good to spend money.  I got some really cute things, too.  My favorite is a blue sundress the color of the summer sky.

            I went to Jonny’s Pub for lunch.  They have good food.  I might have gotten a little tipsy with the wine, but so what?

            I also stopped off to restock the bar, since it seems to diminish quickly as of late.

Friday, April 24

            I need to go the liquor store again.  There’s a guy coming over that I met at the bar last night.  He seems to be a nice guy.  He’s good-looking, at least.  I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.

            Oh, and I’ve been ignoring Carmen’s calls.  She stopped by last night while I was out and left a note on my door saying she’s worried about me.  I threw it out.

Saturday, April 25

            Well, last night went well.  Dave, that guy from the bar, came over.  He just left.  We got sloshy drunk.

            He also had some coke—as in cocaine.  First time I ever tried that, and I loved it.  It was better than alcohol.  It actually allowed me to drink more.  And boy, oh boy, did we have fun with that stuff.  We started in the living room—sofa, recliner, floor.  Then we made it to the kitchen—floor, counter.  We stopped at the stairs—bottom and top.  We went to bed, then took a shower.  We finally ended up back in bed.

            I have never had such an erotic experience.  I hope he calls again.

Sunday, April 26         

            Dave came over again last night.  We had an equally erotic night as before.  He’s supposed to pick me up later and take me to lunch.

            That’s one thing I noticed about the coke—I don’t eat as much.  Maybe I can lose some weight before bathing suit season.

Evening. . .

            Dave and I had a great lunch, followed by a private little party at his place.  When he brought me home, we partied a little more.

            It’s nice not having to go to work and still having money.  I can do what I want, and Dave pays for the extravagant accessories.  We make a good pair, I think.

Thursday, April 30

            Carmen came by around noon.  We talked on the porch.  She basically told me I look like crap—my hair is dull, my skin pale, and I’ve lost weight.  I told her that maybe it was a side effect of having my world crash around me and losing my best friends in the process.  She played like she didn’t understand, so I told her to run along to Rich and leave me alone.  Then I came inside and closed the door on her.

            Dave should be here soon.  I can’t wait.  I need a bump to cauterize my frayed nerves.

Friday, May 1

            It’s 9am and I haven’t slept yet.  I was so irate about Carmen’s visit yesterday that Dave left me some powder before he left last night.  I did most of it over the course of the night.  At one point I got so hot, I went for a swim.

            I’m going to see how long I can go without sleep.  Dave’s bringing me some more at lunch.  I think he might be a dealer. . .

Later. . .

            5pm, still no sleep.  Dave and I are going out dancing tonight.  That should be fun.  The man definitely has rhythm, so he should be a good dancer.  Well, I’m gong to get ready.

Saturday, May2

            We danced all night, came home at 3am and went swimming.  We spent some quality time in the hot tub.

            It’s now 11am and I still have yet to sleep.  That’s about 50 hours without sleep.  I’ll go to be tonight, promise.

            Carmen keeps calling and leaving messages.  I want nothing to do with her.  Why can’t she just admit that she screwed me over in the worst way and let me get on with my life?

            I need a line.

Sunday, May 3

            It’s 3am.  I haven’t been able to sleep because Carmen keeps calling.  Every time she calls I do another line.  (Dave left me with a pretty big bag.)  I can’t help it.  Her voice irritates me with her whining and pleading.  The coke makes me feel better.

            I think I’ll go for a swim.  It might help me burn off some of this nervous energy.  Not to mention my anger.  Two more line first, though, for that extra boost.

Former GM for Upscale Kitchen Store

Found at Bottom of Pool

Monday May 4—The body of former general manager for the upscale kitchen store, Sensible Essence, was found early this morning lying at the bottom of her pool.  Carmen Daily called police when she stopped by to check on her friend, Dana Handen, and found her body.

    Police found about $2000 worth of cocaine in the woman’s home.  Autopsy results are pending, but the presumed cause of death is drowning due to a cocaine overdose.

    Daily stated that Handen had never before used the narcotic.  She said Handen was “straight edge” and would never have touched drugs.  She did say that Handen’s world had “crashed around her,” however, and that her friend had severely declined since being laid off by the Sensible Essence Corporation less than one month ago.