Bernie goes to the vet again

Two months have passed since Bernie has been on Trilostane for her Cushing's Disease. The protocol for the medication is to test every two months to see what her cortisol levels are.

Most of the symptoms she was experiencing have decreased if not disappeared altogether so I was optimistic when I dropped her off on Wednesday.

Now you know my sister and I haven't blessed our parents with any grandchildren so Bernie is as close as they're going to get. My mother's glass is always half empty so I didn't tell her about any of Bernie's issues so as not to upset her. She LOVES that dog.

I was there last Sunday when my mother said to me, "Your father tells me you're taking Bernie to the vet this week."

My father knows about Bernie and I told him NOT to mention it to my mother but he's 80 and sometimes he just forgets.

"Um, yep, just taking her in for a check up."

"Are you lying to me?"

Ever since I was a child, I've sworn that my mother is psychic and she never fails to confirm this.

"What? What would I be lying about?", I respond, feigning a puzzled look.

"What's wrong with her? Is she sick?"

My eyes darted to my father, who shrugged his shoulders as if to say, What? You know she's psychic.

"Yes, Mom, she's sick with..."

"Oh my God! What's wrong with her?? Is she going go die??" See? Half empty.

"No, she has this disease that's sort of like high blood pressure. You know, people will always have high blood pressure but they can control it with medication. It's never really cured."

Give me a break, that was the most elementary explanation I could think of.

"Oh. But she'll be okay? You know she's my grandbaby."

"I know. She'll be fine."

"Listen to you. You don't even care about her."

"You're right, Mom, I don't care what happens to her."

"Shame on you!"

What the hell? Would have been nice if she had expressed this much love and concern for me as a child. And this, my friends, is the reason why there are strippers.

Needless to say. She called me incessantly all week long to see how Bernie was. When I called to tell her that the vet said Bernie was doing great and that her levels had evened out, she was sure I was lying.

"Why would I lie to you?"

"Well, you didn't tell me for 2 months!"

"Oh, right, good point."

Thank you, God, for Trilostane.

And for caller ID.