Addicticism

So talk about your roller coasters!
They finally force-fed my kitty at the vet's right before I came to see her at the end of the day. Then they sent me (and her!!!) home with a bunch of kitty opiate oral liquid pain-killers, and some pepcid. And orders to call with updates, and especially to keep track of her food intake. Of which there wasn't any.

She finally daned to use her litter box for the first time around 8am this morning. I've never been so excited about my cat's peeing habits before, let me tell you. And when I got out another dose of the pain meds, she ran over to me so I could give it to her. RAN OVER TO ME. FOR MEDICINE.

I think she's addicted. Seriously. Of course, being a tortie, that didn't mean she'd actually let me GIVE her the medicine-- she just let herself be caught so I could pry her mouth open, shove the gunk in, clamp her jaw shut, and stroke her throat while she tried to bite off her own tongue. Sigh.

So I was hopeful. Until the Vet called. The final test came back, the CDC (whatever the heck that is, it costs a hundred dollars) and it turns out her white blood cell count is horribly low. So We made an appointment to take her back into the doctor's for another test. This one was to see if she had either feline leukemia or kitty AIDS. Those being the most likely reasons for a low white blood cell count, apparently.

The drama of library conferences has NOTHING on this, folks.

But luckily, I had a massage scheduled (in trade for other work, so neither of us had to come up with cash, thank goodness!) for this morning. So I went ahead and had that done. Unluckily, I realized when my masseuse was a few minutes late that I wasn't going to make it to the vet on time, so I had to reschedule that by a half-hour. Luckily, the noon appointment time was still available. And my cat was still fairly stogned and pliant when I got home to put her in the cat carrier.

Apparently, she was also much calmer about getting her blood drawn this time around. And it only took ten minutes to get the test results back. She is evil illness-free, as far as we can tell. Luckily, it is NEITHER feline leukemia NOR kitty HIV. Unluckily, we still don't know what it IS. I have strict instructions from my vet (who also owns a tortie) to call her with updates.

And LUCKILY, I have a very wonderful update to report. As soon as we got home, she got out of the cat carrier, wandered over to the wet food that has been sitting hopefully in my room for the past few hours, and licked it a few times before wandering back to her blanket in front of the space heater. FOOD!!! She ate a bite of FOOD!!! That's more than she's eaten of her own volition in three days! WAHHOOOO!!!!

And I have finally got some hope back that she'll recover from this insane trip of hers.
Thanks for all your good thoughts, everyone. We both needed them for a while. Maybe we still do. But at the moment, Abbigale is curled up on my bed in the sun pretending that her little fore-arm isn't shaved and listening carefully, just in case I venture over to the pain medicine again. Because, as I said, she REALLY LIKES that pain medicine.

So, basically, nearly a thousand dollars I didn't have later, the only thing we know for sure is that she had some really painful gas, stopped eating, got really dehydrated, and is now hooked on pain killers. Not necessarily in that order. ...sigh.

Not Even Funny

My cat is in the Animal Hospital today. They're trying to figure out why she stopped eating and drinking two days ago, why her chest hurts, why she has a build-up of gas, why she's been puking and other grossness for the last 24 hours, at both ends. And how to make it all better.

I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to cope. She is a fixture in my life. She is one of my best friends, and my life-companion. She is only ten years old. And if she needs surgery to remove an obstruction in her bowels, I'm not sure I can pay for it.

I'm trying to figure out how to make my situation go away. How to have a job, or another credit card, so that I could have a hope of paying for this. Or rent. Rent would be nice to be able to pay, too. I'm trying to figure out how I got so desperate financially that I would even consider NOT getting this $800-$2000 surgery for my Abbigale. I'm looking into donations from animal-rescue organizations. I'm looking into my credit card totals to see how bad they really are. I'm looking into payment plans. My vet is looking into some possible other cause for her illness.

I'm trying to cope with my sudden reality that I've already spent $600 on her medical care today, and that I really don't want to wake up without her tomorrow... and that it costs less to put my best friend to sleep than to heal her... but even that would be expensive. I'm really trying to cope with reality, but failing.

Because the reality is that she is my one ability to keep coping with my life. She gives me a reason to get up (even if it's a half-hour earlier than I wanted to get up), and she helps me sleep at night. She loves me unconditionally, and forgives me for being selfish and stupid from time to time. Nobody else does that. How can I weigh her life against something as stupid as two or three months' worth of rent payments.

I have some wonderful wonderful human friends-- and some of them have really been there for me when I've been in tight spots at various times. But believe me-- I've spent more time being content because SHE was content to be with me than I have just happy on my own account. So here it is.

The last few shreds of hope I have are that maybe the problem is something that can actually be fixed without surgery... or that I won the lottery last week and just don't know it yet. Because as much as I need a job, and want the opportunity to earn my way-- I'm going to feel like shit if I get a good-paying job within a few days or weeks of putting her to sleep for lack of funds.

I know that my desires are purely selfish here-- the desire to keep her alive, and the desire not to go into debt to do so. And I've realized, that as much as it's going to hurt-- whatever the outcome-- what I really want is for her to know I love her, and for her not to suffer. Whatever that means, I think I can make my peace with it. Eventually. After the heart-hurt eases a bit, and the empty spot starts to heal. I know I'm never going to fill her spot.

Today, I'm just sitting around waiting for news, researching dead-end financial options and grant moneys for emergency pet care, and crying. At least, after I made the vet appointment last night, she and I had the whole night to lay together and cuddle on the bed. And even though she had to get off the bed to vommit and have diareah about five or six times, she always made her way back up to where she could sleep on my arm, curled into my side.

God, Goddess, please let her live.

Hide and Seek

So there's a button on blogger that lets you "hide" your blog listing. And apparently I accidentally pushed that button sometime since my last post.

I've been going crazy this morning trying to track down the access point to this blog, with very little success. It doesn't help that my connection has been getting progressively slower over the last three months, either. All that logging in and out and in and out took time. grrrrrr

Until I finally and for no reason I can fathom decided I must have "hidden" that blog. Then it took me another little while to figure out how to UNHIDE it. And that term does not appear in the google/blogger help directory. So don't bother.

The good news is that there's a little button down at the bottom of the page that says "show all blogs," and when I finally found that button, and selected it, all was again right with my world.

Why are there always prologues to my stories??

Also, apparently due to the amazing levels of unexpected and prolonged gorgeous snow in December, the gas bill was an estimate. Based on earlier times when my housemate didn't actually have the heat on. So this month, we received a bill for what didn't show up last month, and this month's expense. And I guess we have to turn the heat back off now. Because I can't afford to pay her $150 a month to have heat.

So I guess I'll be closing the bedroom door and turning on my space heater. A lot. Because I suspect that the overage I'll pay for the electricity I use is NOTHING compared to this bill. Which actually scares me. A lot.

Besides hunting around for a way to access my own blog, how did I spend the morning? So glad you asked.

I spent this morning writing about my early attempts at marriage counseling, and the last pre-deployment briefing I attended before my X left for Iraq back in 2004. Oh, Joy. That gas bill was really NOT the cap I'd have chosen for my morning of woe.

It was interesting to remember back to the hole in the bedroom door, the Argmy Chaplain who first appeared angry on my behalf, and then when he actually met my X, was angry at me for not doing a better job of supporting such a fine outstanding and upstanding soldgier. It was interesting to remember both the hope I suddenly felt to have an authority figure on my side in my attempts to get marriage counseling and salvage our relationship-- and the utter desolation and isolation that ultimately came of the attempt.

Interesting to remember how life had to keep on keeping on around all that personal pain. We went out to dinner, we said how our day went, we acted like nothing was wrong when other people were around, and I worried about his well-being as he geared up for that deplogyment. And yet, looking back, I realize how absolutely everything had already fallen apart. Long before I actually was ready or willing or able to walk away.

I'm so glad to be here, and not there, now. Even with frozen fingers and a dwindling bank account and a crick in my neck from sitting at the computer too long. I think my story is an important one to tell-- the family side of Argmy Life, but more than that. I'm also telling how-- maybe eventually even WHY-- a marriage can fall apart, and a wife can decide to stay long past all reason. And, hopefully, I can tell a little bit of how to get out of a marriage like that.

I am hopeful. Hopeful for my own life, and for the lives of other women-- argmy or civilian, happy or desperate, married or divorced-- and for the possibility for positive change in every situation. Hopefully, telling my story will make a difference, too.

So I keep writing, and forcing myself to remember those painful, fearful, uncertain times. Times when I hid, or wanted to hide. Times I really don't want to remember anymore. And, hopefully, when it's all done, the results will be worth the journey I took to get them.

In the meantime, anybody know a good (and fairly recently published) memoir I should read? I'm looking for a good editor, and a well-written book might just be the place to start.

Draining

Holy Tamoly, what does that cat EAT?! And SHIGHT I hope she burries it well now that she's done digesting it. That REEKS. Like-- tears to my eyes-- REEKS!!!

Excuse me-- that wasn't how I intended to start this post. It's just a sudden distraction on the road of life here. A sudden smelly kitty distraction that I must now take a few moments to mercifully dispose of. Mercifully for my NOSE.

Well, now. Moving right along.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! It has been an interesting year. Full of self-reflection, self-promotion, and self-denial. I moved (twice), I got snowed in (twice), I integrated myself into someone else's household (twice)... I sense a theme.

I've held workshops, had booths at faires and retreats and festivals, gotten published here and there, and created a loyal client base. I've applied for jobs, I've narrowed my activities, I've tried unsuccessfully to sell my (perfectly great) car and reduce my overall mandatory expenditures. I've been to a lot more friendly get-togethers and outright parties than in the past five years combined. I've enjoyed myself more at each of them than at the most lavish and well-organized military gathering I ever attended.

I've gotten serious about writing my book, too. It's time.

I spent the new year with a new friend. Even had a (friendly) kiss at midnight from someone I respect. Stayed out until nearly 3am. When was the last time THAT happened?! Lots of good conversations, lots of opportunities to grow my network and finally feel that I belong here in town. Reconnected with old friends this year, too, and that felt good in its own way. Old friends are important.

As with each of the past few years, I feel that I've grown and changed SO MUCH over what is really a brief span of time. I've learned so much about who I am, what I'm capable of, and what values/opportunities/realities/activities/ beliefs I really care to pursue or maintain in my life. It's been highly rewarding, and very draining.

More recently, as in last night and continuing through this very moment, the term "draining" refers to what we'd like the basement to do. It's flooded. Check that. It's FLOODING in a seeping run-down-the-walls kind of way. My housemate and I took turns going down to wet-vac the puddle every hour or so all night, to minimize the spread of wet. Thing is, between all that snow and the last two days of heavy rain, there just isn't anyplace in the ground for all that water to GO. After staying up late the morning before, staying up to help until after midnight last night, getting up for my turns at 2am and again at 4am, and getting up this morning to start all over again... I'm tired. You might even say, "drained."

And yet my level of worry/stress has gone down dramatically in the last week. That's good. Nobody wants a heart attack at age 30. I guess I'm really hopeful that the new year, new administration, and new possibilities in my own life will bear fruit that is both sustaining and sustainable. That would be a real gift for all of us. May the new year be full of positive changes, and good luck for all. We need it.