A few things:
-- Spinal tap is scheduled for Monday. We're preparing ourselves for the worst, because short of a miracle, the worst is really all that's left.
-- My body aches. I've been crying so hard it feels like my muscles are all rigid. I'll be fine for an hour or two, then start all over again. Eating is still kinda iffy, though
tamnonlinear did get some soup into us last night. I did sleep in really late today, though, and that helped a lot. I'm getting acupuncture tonight to help with anxiety management.
-- The vet at the MRI clinic said that it appears that Olive has Munchkin-- essentially, feline dwarfism. Which could help explain all of her issues, and the fact that she's still a tiny 6lbs. This kitty: a fluke. Or, in Abby's words, she didn't come from a gene pool. She came from a gene puddle.
-- You know what is the most awful thing you can say to someone who's facing losing a family member or loved one? "There's a reason for everything." Variant: "It's all in God's plan." Because no, there is not a fucking reason why cancer took J's mom. Olive's condition is not God's plan, unless God is a gigantic asshole. If you even consider saying either of the above, consider instead shutting your mouth. Instead, say: "Fuck Cancer."
-- J and I are starting on orders today. Yesterday was just too much shellshock for both of us.
-- A continuing thank you to anyone who's helped in any way. I just hope we can thank you properly once some of the immediate shock wears off.
-- I am not really on the internet right now and probably won't be until I start feeling less panicky. I am getting my email (because it comes to my phone), but I am largely leaving my laptop alone. If there's something you need me to see, please email.
-- On a more positive note, Olive has been loving spending the night with us in the bedroom. This morning, J and I were sleeping with our foreheads touching. She curled up into the little spot between us, licked our noses, and pulled J's hand over her little body with her teeny paws. The three of us slept, heads pressed together, holding onto one another, while she purred like a little lawnmower. This kitty, she knows and loves us so much. She's more like a little person than a kitty in her gestures.
-- My body aches. I've been crying so hard it feels like my muscles are all rigid. I'll be fine for an hour or two, then start all over again. Eating is still kinda iffy, though
tamnonlinear did get some soup into us last night. I did sleep in really late today, though, and that helped a lot. I'm getting acupuncture tonight to help with anxiety management.-- The vet at the MRI clinic said that it appears that Olive has Munchkin-- essentially, feline dwarfism. Which could help explain all of her issues, and the fact that she's still a tiny 6lbs. This kitty: a fluke. Or, in Abby's words, she didn't come from a gene pool. She came from a gene puddle.
-- You know what is the most awful thing you can say to someone who's facing losing a family member or loved one? "There's a reason for everything." Variant: "It's all in God's plan." Because no, there is not a fucking reason why cancer took J's mom. Olive's condition is not God's plan, unless God is a gigantic asshole. If you even consider saying either of the above, consider instead shutting your mouth. Instead, say: "Fuck Cancer."
-- J and I are starting on orders today. Yesterday was just too much shellshock for both of us.
-- A continuing thank you to anyone who's helped in any way. I just hope we can thank you properly once some of the immediate shock wears off.
-- I am not really on the internet right now and probably won't be until I start feeling less panicky. I am getting my email (because it comes to my phone), but I am largely leaving my laptop alone. If there's something you need me to see, please email.
-- On a more positive note, Olive has been loving spending the night with us in the bedroom. This morning, J and I were sleeping with our foreheads touching. She curled up into the little spot between us, licked our noses, and pulled J's hand over her little body with her teeny paws. The three of us slept, heads pressed together, holding onto one another, while she purred like a little lawnmower. This kitty, she knows and loves us so much. She's more like a little person than a kitty in her gestures.