Triumphing over awfulness; my week from hell

I hit another “first” this week; my first time being sick since Rick died. It wasn’t something I had thought about; I don’t get sick very much. In the 8 years we were together, apart from a yearly migraine I think I was sick twice.

On Sunday I noticed a tickle in the back of my throat. Monday brought a sore throat and cough. Tuesday I felt awful and ended up leaving work in the morning. I had all the signs of flu; fever, chills, body aches. From Tuesday through Thursday afternoon I slept so much the cat was impressed. All I did was shuffle from bed, to couch, to bed.

The doctor’s office was more than willing to diagnose flu over the phone, and asked me to please not come in. When I stated (“whined” was probably a more accurate description) that I had received the flu vaccine, I was told that it could be a different variety of flu and, if not, the vaccine would lesson the impact.

This continued on until Thursday, when at least I could sit up and eat something. Attempting to make a small pot of coffee, I forgot the pot; when I woke up from yet another nap, I found the kitchen counter swimming in 4 cups of cold coffee. I did my best to mop up the mess, but with a fever still burning and feeling slightly dizzy I just grabbed the nearest dish towel to use as a sponge and dumped it in the sink. There wasn’t coffee sliding off the counter anymore, but it was far from spit-polish clean.

Finally, on Friday morning I woke up feeling human. I took a bath, washed my hair, and changed the sheets. Went downstairs and cleaned the kitchen, made some coffee (this time with the pot) and checked email. I was back among the living. I’d made it. Things were looking up – I thought.

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Early afternoon, as I was standing in the kitchen finishing the last of the coffee, the cat suddenly twitched and twisted. As I looked on in horror, I realized she was having a seizure. It was terrifying to watch. When she finally stopped, she was unable to stand up; her hindquarters weren’t moving, the legs just lying there.

I called the vet with shaking hands and explained what had happened, and that I was bringing her in. The poor cat was completely puffed up and unable to move. I pulled out the cat carrier, and the site of that hated conveyance was enough to get her standing up. She made the one-mile car trip in total silence, none of the usual yowls; she was that freaked out. Turned out everything was fine; no problems found, no obvious reason for the seizure. The vet thinks she may have gotten into something or it may be a sign of age, but said to keep track of this in case it happens again.

This has been a really hard week; facing two things, alone, that I would much rather have had help with; facing the fact that the cat is old and sick and probably won’t last the year, meaning one more tie with Rick’s and my life, and one more creature I love, will soon be gone. That’s the bad part. The good part is; well; I made it. I’m feeling Okay, and I’m looking forward to watching the Packers play tonight. Life does go on, and I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Oh, and the cat’s fine.

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