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Waffle died

I first came to this hospital on August 21st, the day of the eclipse. I thought it was just my luck that I had to get cancer and be admitted to the hospital during the most exciting celestial event visible to the (well protected) naked eye of my adult life. But Mom and Brent and I at least managed to get out to the parking lot for a few minutes to enjoy the goings on. We didn't have eclipse glasses, but a woman offered to share hers with us. Her name was Elizabeth, and she was a psychologist at the hospital. She and Mom got to talking, and told her about her service dog, Waffle, who would do the rounds with patients.

I met Waffle later that day. Elizabeth brought her to my room as I was getting settled in. She was a Lab / Golden Retriever mix. She sat at my feet and let me pet her, and reminded me that I wouldn't get to see my own dog for quite a while. They left me with a card that had Waffle's service portrait on the front and a short bio on the back. It reads "Waffle loves her job as a Facility Dog at the Denver VA. She works with the Palliative Care team to bring comfort and support to veterans and their families. Waffle was bred and trained by Canine Companions for Independence, which provides service dogs free of charge." I never saw Waffle again. Every time she came around, I was too neutropenic for a canine visitor.

Today was the first day in about a week that I felt well enough to go for a walk, and when the Infectious Disease Team came to visit, they told me Waffle had died, and suggested I could go to the memorial in the basement. I'm not sure why dogs love people so much, but it sure is tragic that their life spans and ours don't match. I didn't know Waffle, but judging by the crowd in the basement I could tell she brought a lot of comfort to a lot of people.

Goodbye, Waffle.


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