FIFTY FOUR REMEMBRANCE
The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.
Thank you for reading. Your reviews and comments are most appreciated.
I regret that illness has prevented my writing. I shall attempt to continue. Be patient kind readers.
Martin has left Eleanor and Terry at the house to sort things. With Louisa in France he is attempting to sort things himself, on his own until she returns from holiday.
CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR
So I had left Terry and Eleanor to themselves to sort things, at least for now. Who knows what their living in the same town will be like.
Since they left me no choice by kicking me out of my own house, I decided to go away from town and headed toward Havenhurst. I needed to check on Joan's horse.
I have to say Al and Morwenna have made quite a success of the place and even more, had done well with their family. They had industrious and respectful children, a commodity that seems to grow more scarce by my observation. I'm thinking Louisa would find teaching more of a challenge and less enjoyable now. Over the years my relationship with Al has become quite avuncular to the extent that his children call me "Uncle Martin." Unlike his devil-may-care father, Al has been willing to take advice, especially from my Aunt Ruth.
The Farm, as we call it, is a well-run B & B that includes a respectable fishing resort. It is a working farm, producing income from growing organic vegetables, wool production and grass fed sheep and beef. Because of my daughter it now has stables for 8 horses and a riding ring.
Wending my way toward The Farm my mind did go to my daughter and I realized how much I have missed her since she had gone to university and now well into her veterinary training. Her studies leave her little time for visiting home. She will only have a few days after she and Louisa return from France before she will have to return to uni. I think her becoming a vet was a die that was cast very early in her life.
Joan was a joy and a light in my life from the day she was born. Her inquisitiveness was insatiable. To begin with she fell in love with slugs. That was my blessing and my curse. When she was just a young child I came home one afternoon and went to the garden to greet her. She looked up at me with a smile and bright eyes said, "Daddy, isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"
Crawling on her arm was a four inch black slug.
My immediate reaction brought tears...and anger. How could my dispatching this vile creature cause such a response? It seems my daughter viewed all of God's creatures, as she called them, as special and deserving of our care and protection. James wanting a dog I could understand, even if I didn't like it. But Joan's wanting to house all manner of vermin in her room I could not tolerate. Rats, guinea pigs, rabbits - vermin all.
Where and when had I developed an aversion to animals? After all I had been around all manner of creatures with Uncle Phil and Aunt Joan. I was intrigued when seeing a sheep born. Mating and life and even death became a part of my summer landscape. Our handling the animals seemed natural. What changed? Why did I begin to detest any contact with them? At least I came to believe my negative response was overboard, but that realization didn't change the response. None of my therapy touched this, as it seemed minor in light of bigger issues. In the end, in ways I could not understand, I have come to believe my mother's attitude about this and much more has influenced me more than I care to admit.
In the end the children won the day. James used logic which was to his advantage with me. Eventually I came to accept, even like, his dog. It didn't help that the dog ignored my attempts to reject. The animal took a liking to me and always sat by my feet.
Joan's approach was always the emotional one. That I could counter except that we were on two different planes of thought. Our discussions always ended at an and often tears. Her advantage was that Louisa often claimed to see her point. I eventually allowed her a cat if it stayed outside. It still horrified me to watch her be affectionate and hold it close to her face. At least we never had caged rats.
One day as a young teen Joan asked permission to accompany her friend, Meg Ferguson to visit her uncle's stables in Bodmin. Who could have imagined where this would lead? Joan had always been a generous and helpful person. It turns out the stables offered a therapy program for children, something I had not known even existed. Equine therapy, I learned, goes back to the ancient Greeks.
Within weeks Joan and Meg were involved weekly working with the children. Over the year they became quite accomplished riders themselves. I was intrigued by how intelligent and responsive the horses were, especially with the children. I was equally appalled at the girl's hugging and placing their faces near the animal's muzzle.
The course of events was inevitable. Meg had a horse so the germ was planted in Joan's mind. Owning a horse in Bodmin seemed impractical which was no barrier for our resolute daughter. She convinced her Uncle Al that stables and a small riding ring would be a good addition at the farm. With our assistance and monies earned with a part time job with the local veterinary, Alan Dashwood, Joan purchased a two year old mare. She christened her Maya and they became inseparable.
In her job Joan dealt with and observed all aspects of the veterinary practice. Dr. Dashwood even allowed her to accompany him to some farms. One evening I broached a difficult issue. "Joan, in my work people die. Sometimes it is hard to deal with. Surely by this time you have seen animals die. I would think it would be hard on a person at such a young age."
"Oh Dad it's hard. At first I was devastated and cried a good bit. Like your patients some animals don't survive, but there comes a time when you have to put an animal down. It was hard for me to accept, but Dr. Dashwood is a good teacher. He explained to me there comes a time when it would be more kind to take away suffering when there can be be no healing. He called it a kind mercy. Just knowing doesn't make it easy, but I have to say his understanding helped a lot."
It was only two weeks later that Joan came in wet from the rain and very upset. It turns out she had accompanied the doctor to treat a sick horse. He likely would not have taken Joan had he known the outcome. The patient was much worse than anticipated and in the end had to be euthanized. She was crushed and broke down in tears.
"Dad, it was horrible. I had come to accept relieving the suffering of a dog or cat, but I have never thought of a beautiful horse dying?"
"All I can say Joanie is life is sacred but not permanent. You are learning the reality of that at a very young age. I can't take away your sadness.",
"Just hug me Dad."
Joan had told us she wanted to be a veterinarian. I had mixed feelings that much exposure to sick animals couldn't be good. Then there was the matter of size. How could a petite young woman safely deal with large and unpredictable livestock? In spite of my misgivings Louisa wanted to give a complete set of All Creatures Great and Small to Joan for her birthday one year. It was a story of the life of James Herriot, a country vet from the Yorkshire Dales, and when it aired, captivated the whole of England on Sunday nights. I watched episodes and was more convinced this was no occupation for a girl unless they only dealt with small animals. I couldn't erase the picture of the vet with his arm shoulder deep in a cow's rear end.
Something happened that changed my mind. Alf Wight, who was the real James Herriot had a daughter who wanted to be a vet. He discouraged it and in reading his reflections it seems he regretted this.
I always wanted my children to choose their own path. I would not, as my father had done, dictate my child's life. It was not without misgivings that I encouraged Joan to pursue her dream. My life is so ironical. I who shunned any contact with animals have a daughter studying veterinary science. I who disparaged psychiatry as so much psychobabble proudly have a son becoming a child psychiatrist.
And the supreme irony is that I have come to somewhat understand, if not totally respect, the quirkiness of the people of Portwenn. It is amazing that the pack of silly girls simply greet me without sarcasm or offence. The downside to what has happened over 30 years is that I still receive medical calls from the townspeople. I insist they call the new doctor. Their response is always, "But Doc you understand me."
I arrived at the farm and Morwenna came out. "Doc, great to see ya. Is Louisa back?"
"No. Hopefully in a day or two. I wanted to check on Maya."
"Good. Eva is at the stables now. She loves the horses. Doesn't even mind mucking out the stalls. She and Maya do well together. Joan doesn't have to worry when she's away at uni. Say, it's almost lunchtime. You have to stay. Al told me Louisa's mother is back an you've got to tell me all about that."
"Morwenna, I came to get away from Elenor, but I will stay for lunch. I have to say you and Al and the children are a team. Real dab hands. This place never looked so good."
I walked to the stables where Eva had just spread fresh straw. Seeing me she called out, "Uncle Martin! I just groomed Maya. Wanna take her for a walk She placed a halter on the horse and led her out of the stall. I had to say Maya was a magnificent animal. She had the look of a traditional bay mare with signature black tail and mane. I led her into the ring and felt a nudge on my back. Turning around she presented her muzzle to me. I'd watched the girls and knew she wanted a kiss. Abhorrent! Reaching into my pocket I offered her a small apple. As she ate she rubbed my hand and gratefully that seemed to satisfy her present need for affection.
My mind drifted back to my thoughts on the drive over. Irony. The haemophobia that at the time seemed such a tragedy, led to all this. And today a horse asked me for a kiss. Pure irony