Health may be wealth, but my cat and my brother aren't quite rich yet
I'd laugh if it weren't so stupid, sad, and such a relief.
When Ty and I took Galaxy to the vet the other day, we found out that she doesn't have a rotten tooth at all. For one thing, the vet and the assistant both looked at her and said that she was very well-socialized and a friendly cat. She certainly acted better in the room than Orange does. She didn't bite, scratch, or yowl.
Well, she did yowl one time, but the vet was removing a piece of cheat grass that was the size of my thumbnail from where it got embedded in Galaxy's throat, so I think it was justified.
Yep, that was all that was wrong with the poor little cat that no one wanted me to try to save. She's been reluctantly taking her antibiotics and much less reluctantly scarfing down her food since she came home from the vet on Tuesday.
It's sad that we let her go on starving and hurting herself when she tried to eat for so long. Despite that, I refuse to kick myself because at least we got help for her. She wasn't condemned to death over something so small and stupid, in the scheme of things. I'm floored how deep the cheat grass got into the insides of her mouth and scraped her up, but at least that's all it was. At least it wasn't her teeth rotting out of her head, or some weird disease. She was running a fever, hence the antibiotics, and gets to go back to the vet in a week. But at least she's doing fine so far.
In other hospital-related news, I took my brother in to have his gallbladder removed today. He also did really well, and the nurses all thought he was hilarious. When we were wheeling him out and headed down to the car, all of them were lamenting about how they needed him to stay to entertain them. I'm bothered that my brother, who's just twenty-two, managed to somehow kill his gallbladder with his horrible diet and constant energy drink consumption, but relieved that it's over. And quickly. The procedure was minimally invasive and he can go back to work on Saturday night as long as he doesn't try to do any heavy lifting.
That's about all that's new. So speaking of, I wanted to sit down to read something new tonight, but instead I reread The Curse of Chalion, which remains one of my favorite books. I love when intrigue is well-written, when angst is justifiable and not just a cheap ploy, and when a writer builds a world and theology so convincing that I can't help falling into it.
Now I'm going to watch some Bleach and probably try to write, because I have alone time (gasp!) and a mind to try to scribble something slightly less meaningless than usual.
"If a man is in health, he doesn't need to take anybody else's temperature to know where he is going."
When Ty and I took Galaxy to the vet the other day, we found out that she doesn't have a rotten tooth at all. For one thing, the vet and the assistant both looked at her and said that she was very well-socialized and a friendly cat. She certainly acted better in the room than Orange does. She didn't bite, scratch, or yowl.
Well, she did yowl one time, but the vet was removing a piece of cheat grass that was the size of my thumbnail from where it got embedded in Galaxy's throat, so I think it was justified.
Yep, that was all that was wrong with the poor little cat that no one wanted me to try to save. She's been reluctantly taking her antibiotics and much less reluctantly scarfing down her food since she came home from the vet on Tuesday.
It's sad that we let her go on starving and hurting herself when she tried to eat for so long. Despite that, I refuse to kick myself because at least we got help for her. She wasn't condemned to death over something so small and stupid, in the scheme of things. I'm floored how deep the cheat grass got into the insides of her mouth and scraped her up, but at least that's all it was. At least it wasn't her teeth rotting out of her head, or some weird disease. She was running a fever, hence the antibiotics, and gets to go back to the vet in a week. But at least she's doing fine so far.
In other hospital-related news, I took my brother in to have his gallbladder removed today. He also did really well, and the nurses all thought he was hilarious. When we were wheeling him out and headed down to the car, all of them were lamenting about how they needed him to stay to entertain them. I'm bothered that my brother, who's just twenty-two, managed to somehow kill his gallbladder with his horrible diet and constant energy drink consumption, but relieved that it's over. And quickly. The procedure was minimally invasive and he can go back to work on Saturday night as long as he doesn't try to do any heavy lifting.
That's about all that's new. So speaking of, I wanted to sit down to read something new tonight, but instead I reread The Curse of Chalion, which remains one of my favorite books. I love when intrigue is well-written, when angst is justifiable and not just a cheap ploy, and when a writer builds a world and theology so convincing that I can't help falling into it.
Now I'm going to watch some Bleach and probably try to write, because I have alone time (gasp!) and a mind to try to scribble something slightly less meaningless than usual.
"If a man is in health, he doesn't need to take anybody else's temperature to know where he is going."