Necessary Mutilation

Weight: 192.6 lbs.

Sadness, sorrow, tragedy, grief, misery, hardship. This appears to be all there is lately. I am afraid to breathe for fear of what lies ahead.

Yesterday I spent visiting with Janet, and then Zoe. Both of whose lives have been touched by loss and hardship. I was glad for the time to spend with them, and wasn’t sure that Zoe would want or need me, but kept myself open should she find that she did.

And although I didn’t know that she had called me at home to ask for guidance, I happened to call her while in her vicinity, and she welcomed me over immediately and had much to ask of me while with her. I was happy to help and there is something therapeutic about being able to in the face of something as unsolvable as death. I can console, advise and support however, as well as assist with some practical matters involved in all that must be done when someone dies suddenly.

I got home as late as if I had worked a full work day (but mercifully, WAS off!!!). I had had errands to run but never accomplished most of them, but figured that I could do some today instead.

What I didn’t anticipate was further upheaval after I got home.

Tom and I were eating dinner and discussing the tragedies surrounding us, when our beloved calico cat, Calypso, suddenly drooped, lost all coordination, tried to walk with her feet curled under her, and began to shake. I thought that she was having a stroke, and we ran to get her carrier to rush her to the vet. I was terrified for her and began screaming that she couldn’t die, not now (or ever!) and to hold on. She was contorting and crying, and I can barely even write about it without feeling horror for how suddenly she appeared to be failing.

Mercifully, our local vet which is just down the street happened to have evening hours and we did not have to take her across town to the overnight vet. They accepted her right away, and she appeared better while there, except for crying in pain while being examined for a possible back injury or spinal degeneration. The kind vet doesn’t think that she is suffering from neurological problems or a stroke (thank god!), but that her back may have gone out or she may have a chronic, deteriorating spinal condition that is hampering her coordination. causing right side weakness and pain. In that she has been exhibiting increased difficulty climbing up on things and such, this makes sense, although I didn’t see it coming on so fast or in such an acute manner as it is now presenting in. She is 11 or 12 years old and overweight too, so arthiritis can make sense.

Nonetheless, she is in pain and needed an injection there and now pain meds twice a day here, and possibly some X-Rays on Monday if she isn’t better. She is walking more normally now and the poor thing even tried to climb into our bed last night (and couldn’t, causing Tom to pick her up and place her between us at 3 a.m.). We must face the fact that she is aging and needs special help and attention, but hopefully, that she will remain with us longer as I am not ready to lose her. They ran other tests too, and will call us Monday with the results. I am so afraid of bad news, and seriously feel so fragile and beaten down by endless tragedy lately, that I worry for my sanity should the news be bad. I don’t know how to get “clean” from feeling anxious every minute that something bad is about to happen (again and again!), and the cumulative toll of months of losses and other stressors, is starting to make me fray. I am having trouble slleping, my tummy is perpetually in knots, and I can’t shake a feeling of anxiety and doom. I also keep checking on Callie and no doubt will want to keep her in my scopes all the time now. We will need to make some concessions for her condition as well, and are trying to figure out how to attach steps or a ramp to our bed and other places she loves to be, so she can continue to get up on places on her own.

When will life be “normal” again? What is there to look forward to? I don’t know how to be there for myself anymore, or am not even sure what this means except to engage in wonton hedonism through eating, gambling, playing. And there is no time or inclination (or money!) to do any of this, and I am left unsure how to cleanse myself from how bad I feel all the way to my core. I don’t want to burden my stricken friends with my bad feelings (although honestly, I am sure that I am not candid, and do!), nor Tom, who is going through all of this too. Although he does appear to handle things differently than me, and seems less weary and effected viscerally as I am. In fact at the vet’s office, while I was busy feeling hysterical, he was laughing with the tech about the dogs he used to own and take there. I must admit that this annoyed me horribly, and I sometimes can’t see him as a true partner in things as he acts more casuaully when faced with stuff than I can. I have also become entirely humorless lately, and am unable to appreciate laughter or joy at the moment.

And if my stomach weren’t so upset by things, I expect that I may be trying to use food for solace. Perhaps it is good that I am queasy.

The problem of my queasy spirit is another matter, and one I am unsure how to soothe. Today we must visit Kris at the psych center and this is always painful and soul crushing. And I hate to admit that if it weren’t her birthday and we weren’t so overdue already in having made time to see her, I’d run screaming in the other direction.

Then afterwards, perhaps I will leave time for a complete breakdown, cry, wallow, sorrow and pity party, covers over my head, angst fest.

 So I am better in time for the next tragedy.