Catnip: My Readers

In my head the title of this post has all sorts of cool robot sounds and lights, it’s half transformer and half comment terminator. Well respondinator. I am still sad, I am still grieving, but I am functional by my normal standard again. I also am well aware I cannot go back and respond to the individual comments of support right now. I know that no one expects me to either, though I try to reply to every comment posted on this blog either publicly or privately. I believe you took the time to write me I should respect that. There are just so many.

I read each one. Each one made me feel loved, supported, and sometimes when I wanted to give up I came and read more of the comments, over and over. Each comment is valuable to me. Each comment is treasured. Every moment when I questioned how much more I could take, there was someone there supporting me. So I could keep going. i could make good choices, I could handle the stress because if I needed to cry, I could either email some of you personally, most of you in fact, or I could write here and I would be supported.

In fact that is just what I did after I realized that I am not alone. I have people here in person and spread across the world who are friends, family, and even really awesome acquaintances that if I really need them will spring into action like emotional support super heroes.

You each are my heroes, you may not feel like it when you seek out words of grief, but groping in the darkness is all there is sometimes and just trying has helped me. I didn’t once get so low I felt suicidal. I didn’t once doubt that there would be another day of living or the value of such things. I didn’t once doubt that I could survive. I did doubt that I could survive without losing my sanity, but, sanity is over-rated anyway.

So this is my reply to each comment. Thank you for your support. I know that though there are only a few words when someone faces loss and they all look the same when you are the one who has to say them, they don’t look the same when being heard. When you really mean it, I know. EAch of you really meant it. In fact, knowing the real support was out there sheltered me from the false support of my enemies, frenemies (I try to avoid having them but some people just don’t let you), and cruel strangers who didn’t understand.

Thank you. I am truly honored to have such a network of fantastic people in my life. I am honored to give you the hard won award for being awesome on this blog. I won’t name names, because the record speaks for itself. (Eventually when there is a certificate for this I will email each of you a copy as well)

Cat Has Fever

Nymph’s prognosis is grim. I put this off for a few days while I couldn’t sleep. I just kept focusing on her needs and mine, so I managed to get some sleep down and she’s stable I think. Her fever hasn’t dropped but it’s not getting higher and she’s a bit more able. However after spending every penny I had and borrowing more at the Vet’s office, it was all to know that unless we have a ten percent miracle, my friend is going to die. I can’t keep her from behind dehydrated or in pain, and that makes me cry. I am trying to spend most of my time holding her but she is so hot she literally burns me. My hands are red and sore from her heat, 105 sometimes higher. This is when being temperature sensitive is really a curse. It’s not the shower, hot days that I miss. It’s not being able to hold her for as long as she need.

Thursday we go back, unless she gets sicker, and the vet will see if the mass in her lymph node was just an infection. However the vetrinary hospital, which I will be writing about soon because they have been more than just doctors but a support system for me, they did everything they could to make sure this wasn’t something we could really treat. The minor chance that this isn’t FIP, which I will let you google because I just can’t do the link thing right now, that chance is one we are taking. If she doesn’t get better on Thursday and there is really no hope, Nymph will not be coming home with me at least alive. I am trying to figure out what I can do for Sprite now, and I know the answer for myself is time.

Sprite keeps staring at me when I cry with shock. She has a fever now too, though hers is minor and may just be allergies I feel rather broken. I would give the world to make it where neither of them had illness ever, no pain. Just as I would for my sister or my brother or my friends. I have decided to ask the vet if they can use Ny’s body for science, if she passes. It’s a pretty slim chance so I am mentally preparing but I can’t stop hoping. Hope is the worst feeling I have ever experienced. It feels so good until I look at the facts. I would rather not hope and be wrong. I would give everything that we are just wrong and the anitbiotics cure her infection.

I am honored by a few people, which I will post about again with the hospital but one of the vets, the Ultrasound specialist, she was willing to not charge me full price so we could make sure that Ny hadn’t eaten something that wasn’t safe for her and it wasn’t just a perforated intestine. Which would be more expensive, but she wouldn’t be sentenced to a painful death, the only real risk there is either no treatment and I had found places that might help or anesthesia. Then there is the person who never met me, but they donated medications for Nymph. These medications are easing her pain, and have returned some of the brightness to her eyes though she is still just laying there. Then, there is every doctor at this hospital that took a look at her for free, only one is getting paid for that. There are the techs. Each of them made sure she was comfortable, though they did comment that she is such an obedient girl. If she lives, I know she has completed her sit training. She didn’t even fight during the ultrasound, or when they had to shave her stomach. The sicker an animal is the more it fights, especially things that hurt. That’s nature. Nymph showed them her brilliance and strangers responded to try and help us.

Still the persons I owe the most too over this, they are M. Of course you knew M was involved, he dropped everything to help. Then there’s my sister of choice who was willing to cost her family money and then some to come out if I need her. I just have to ask. I know that I am blessed, I don’t use that word often but even through the pain ahead, because I am still not doing well at all, there is no reason I cannot be honored and loved. It feels so odd to me to find love in this situation. When Sprite was electrocuted we found hate, anger that I was poor and dared to have an animal in my life, and so much pain. There was no solace, there was no comfort, and there was no love.

Nymph also turns out to be photogenic inside and out. Her ultrasounds are the type you want in your textbooks. I gave permission for them to be donated, if this does indeed turn out to be FIP for the simple reason that this would be the more rare type. The one that is harder to diagnose. The one that lets her live longer. I am going to go hold her now, and after we know I have more decisions to make. Someone even offered to buy her a burial plot, though I don’t know what to think about that. I am confused by the entire mourning industry for pets where people wear their animal’s ashes or get diamonds made with their DNA sequence entwined with the stones. It’s confusing and overwhelming but I can see in some ways the comfort that can be offered.

I know too when I get my ultrasound in a few weeks I’ll be thinking of this. I just hope my pictures are as easily read as hers. Nymph has lived up to her name, bringing sweetness as all good faeries should. Sprite does too, Sprite is far more mischevious than I ever let on but right now she’s mostly staying with Nymph. She’s protecting her from the things that would upset her and I have never seen her love another cat this much. I told the staff at the Hospital about their meeting, how there was no hissing or growling and the one time there has been it was Nymph not sharing food, and they said that just proves how rare a cat she is. If she survives she will be a service animal, because she has also been comforting me in the little ways. She is still mimicking Sprite. I know Sprite is fine because she is still playing. It hurts to watch her try and get Nymph to interact more than with the foodbowl or waterbowl. Ny watches but won’t jump up.

The final thing is, I have lost animals before. I have lost people before. I am confused because I never cried this much over a person or any animal,. I don’t cry. I did over Colors. I did over Snowball. Then Cookies but no human has brought me to tears except my Grandpa Murray. I have been called a monster for this but if I can love so much that it makes my heart explode before anything is wrong that I know of then why is that? I know Nymph was either born with this disease or at least had it when she came here, I know it isn’t my fault. I am not self blaming as is my tendancy but I feel like something inside me is being pushed too far and I can’t figure out what will happen if it breaks. I think it’s my heart, but I thought that was already broken. It isn’t loving that hurts though, it is not being able to protect her.

A Death in the Family

I can remember the first time I realized I rarely am touched by death, even when it is very close to me. Jason Todd was in Batman’s arms and the only one touched by his death was Batman.

Yesterday morning, leaving a party my Step Brother Talon was in a car accident and died. His friends, instead of calling 911 abandoned him. Could he have lived? Most likely, although we will never know.

This isn’t a PSA. This is just my mention that teens do not belong behind the wheel when drunk. No one does. The highest cause of death for teenagers is DRINKING AND DRIVING. What is the lure of alchohol?

Here is what I remember from my 21st birthday drunk off. Everything tastes like pee or worse. Everything smells like barf or worse. People say the weirdest things when drunk. “You have such lovely eyepatch tits.”

Wouldn’t you rather actually LIVE to be 21? When drinking loses it’s allure? Why not avoid the risk of a ticket, of killing someone, and the guilt that comes with knowing you could have made better choices?

Am I saying don’t have fun? No. I am merely saying stop being a ridiculous entity and try putting the beer away. One way to find out if your friends are friends forevar like you swear they are? Say no to the drinking. Play with their minds a bit. If you can’t have fun without booze, get off my damned roads!

The funeral is on Thursday. I will be there, with the service cat. I will be trying to support my family. I still feel a bit like this is not real. My stepfather is not wearing a cowl, and I do feel sorrow. It still just doesn’t seem right.

My niece put it into words. “My guinnea pig died. Unky Talon Died. Is great grandma next?” My grandmother may not appreciate the sentiment but she is old. She is supposed to be the next to die. The hanging sword isn’t supposed to mark the young right?

Sorry to babble, I know the world isn’t going to stop while I seek understanding, and comprehension. The world will go on, and so must I.

I remember our first real conversation. None of his friends were around, and neither were our parents. He discovered I wasn’t just a two dimensional side show freak and I discovered how smart he was. I was surprised, because in all honesty he didn’t act like he had much of a brain. It turns out being stupid is the cool thing where we used to live.

I will miss him. I didn’t spend enough time around him. I always thought I’d do it next time. I’d visit more. I have a bit of regret there, although there were times when I did visit and he’d say Next time. We all have the person in our lives we next time with. I am not sure this leaves more bad memories than good, or good than bad. We fought often, and I always had hopes for his future I never shared.

It turns out there are now two people I have cried for in passing. Maybe it is a sign of something. Maybe I am just really sad.

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