Friday, July 15, 2016
My cat has been kind of finicky with her food the past couple of days, so my husband and I have been monitoring her. Literally as we were leaving the house for work she profusely vomited all over the dog's favorite dog bed, multiple times. While I whisked her up and isolated her and the dog in the basement for the day, my husband dealt with the bedding and then I realized that I had vomit on my shirt. I changed my clothes, rushed to get to the garden, lugged around 50 feet of hose and watered it as much as I could for 15 minutes and then rushed into an hour of traffic jam. If I was working at a clinic closer, or had a car that had working air conditioning, I would have brought her with me and ran tests, but I made the difficult decision that I thought the risk of her getting sick from the driving conditions was worse than the risk of her being sick all of today.
I got to my workplace and the parking lot was full. I knew something was going on. I ran to the back to change my clothes and noticed a surgery was going on. The clinic cat, who looks strangely like my cat (just 10 pounds bigger) was getting emergency surgery for an abdominal mass. She's two years younger than my kitty. I kind of had a moment of freaking out about my cat back home. Just like my kitty, her symptoms started with being finicky and a little bit of vomit.
I went to the bathroom and went to change my clothes and let's just say someone had left it a mess. I won't get into details. I then rushed to see my first appointment, which had fleas all over. The day went on with me just not catching a break. It ended in a cute puppy visit. I even remarked to someone "yay, I get to end the day on a happy note," but then I found out that the other puppy in the family was deathly ill from parasites and may not make it. So much for the happy note. Earlier during the day, I found out my favorite gelato was on sale at CVS. I bought a pint. I cajoled my fellow workers into finishing off the top 1/4, so it wouldn't melt all over the car. I figured, yes, I probably shouldn't eat a 1/2 pint of gelato- but in weather that feels like 110 degrees, the laws of nutrition don't apply and I wasn't doing it in front of my son so I didn't need to worry about the example I was setting.
Just as I was thinking about how rough my day was, (alternating with appreciation of my pseudo air conditioning of gelato) I come home and hear on the radio what happened in France. At the writing of this, there are not many details known. I feel great sadness, once more for the French people. But I know I am grateful for the fleas, anal gland and other grimy aspects of my job because I am fortunate, fortunate to have a job, a family and a country that will hopefully continue to fight evil.