Sick to the power of sick
Being unwell when you are already unwell sucks. Officially.
I started to feel a bit nauseous yesterday whilst on a rare night out with friends. I felt squiffy and hot when my partner dropped me off and within half an hour a friend was dropping me back home. The squiffyness ultimately resulted in vomiting and I spent an uncomfortably warm night in bed trying to sleep and not throw up again.
So, as you can imagine, I'm feeling pretty sorry for myself this morning. My stomach aches and everything else hurts more than it usually does because I haven't taken any pain medication in over eighteen hours for fear of being more sick. And I'm hungry. Really hungry.
There is one saving grace. I can feel the comforting weight of my dog, William, pressing against my legs. And William is looking pretty content, no doubt because he can feel the comforting weight of one of my cats, Smudge Arthur Philip Louis (don't ask) pressing into his back. To the left I can hear gentle lapping as one of my kittens, Tiger Lily, cleans herself. And, to the right the silent presence of another cat, Pamela, hovering in a radiator bed. I'm not sure where the other kitten, Little Bee, is but I know she will turn up shortly miaowing loudly and proudly presenting yet another feather she has scavenged.
I don't think I could cope with all life has thrown at me in the last year without them. They are company, family and therapy all rolled up in to four furry little beings.
I started to feel a bit nauseous yesterday whilst on a rare night out with friends. I felt squiffy and hot when my partner dropped me off and within half an hour a friend was dropping me back home. The squiffyness ultimately resulted in vomiting and I spent an uncomfortably warm night in bed trying to sleep and not throw up again.
So, as you can imagine, I'm feeling pretty sorry for myself this morning. My stomach aches and everything else hurts more than it usually does because I haven't taken any pain medication in over eighteen hours for fear of being more sick. And I'm hungry. Really hungry.
There is one saving grace. I can feel the comforting weight of my dog, William, pressing against my legs. And William is looking pretty content, no doubt because he can feel the comforting weight of one of my cats, Smudge Arthur Philip Louis (don't ask) pressing into his back. To the left I can hear gentle lapping as one of my kittens, Tiger Lily, cleans herself. And, to the right the silent presence of another cat, Pamela, hovering in a radiator bed. I'm not sure where the other kitten, Little Bee, is but I know she will turn up shortly miaowing loudly and proudly presenting yet another feather she has scavenged.
I don't think I could cope with all life has thrown at me in the last year without them. They are company, family and therapy all rolled up in to four furry little beings.