my heart hurts
It's been a hard weekend.
Emily cat is twenty-two years old, and she is failing. Until recently, while she was clearly in some discomfort, she also still clearly enjoyed certain things. Us sitting with her, or taking her outside to sit in the sun and nibble grass. Now she's lost so much weight, and she seems so tired, and when we brought her outside today she just wandered around and staggered and lay down flat with her head on the grass. I have known Emily since I was five years old. I cannot actually comprehend what life looks like without her in it.
Meanwhile, a leaking sewer line means that the front yard has been dug up to replace the entire pipe. All Ma's pretty flowers are gone, and there's a gaping dirt scar and construction equipment in the yard. Dad worked all weekend trying to take down the front porch so that we could salvage the materials and rebuild it to be the same, but it's not finished and we're worried the workers are going to take a saw to it. They have a job to do, but Mom cried at the thought of it. Dad worked so hard.
Oh, and I have hives. Chronic ideopathic uticaria. I've had them since early May. I take literal handfuls of antimistamines every day, two of them prescription strength, and they've got me on monthly injections now, too. It's mostly helping. No more hundreds of hives all over my body. Hopefully not ever again. But I still get a few every day, and that sucks. At least I'm not fantasizing about removing my skin with a vegetable peeler anymore.
Julie is upset, too. All the stress in the air, probably. She's usually such a sweetheart, but she's started a few fights with Jackie--actual fights, not play fights, which they do all the time--and she just doesn't seem happy. Maybe I'm projecting.
Jackie seems fine, at least. My one-eyed happy girl.
Emily cat is twenty-two years old, and she is failing. Until recently, while she was clearly in some discomfort, she also still clearly enjoyed certain things. Us sitting with her, or taking her outside to sit in the sun and nibble grass. Now she's lost so much weight, and she seems so tired, and when we brought her outside today she just wandered around and staggered and lay down flat with her head on the grass. I have known Emily since I was five years old. I cannot actually comprehend what life looks like without her in it.
Meanwhile, a leaking sewer line means that the front yard has been dug up to replace the entire pipe. All Ma's pretty flowers are gone, and there's a gaping dirt scar and construction equipment in the yard. Dad worked all weekend trying to take down the front porch so that we could salvage the materials and rebuild it to be the same, but it's not finished and we're worried the workers are going to take a saw to it. They have a job to do, but Mom cried at the thought of it. Dad worked so hard.
Oh, and I have hives. Chronic ideopathic uticaria. I've had them since early May. I take literal handfuls of antimistamines every day, two of them prescription strength, and they've got me on monthly injections now, too. It's mostly helping. No more hundreds of hives all over my body. Hopefully not ever again. But I still get a few every day, and that sucks. At least I'm not fantasizing about removing my skin with a vegetable peeler anymore.
Julie is upset, too. All the stress in the air, probably. She's usually such a sweetheart, but she's started a few fights with Jackie--actual fights, not play fights, which they do all the time--and she just doesn't seem happy. Maybe I'm projecting.
Jackie seems fine, at least. My one-eyed happy girl.