Floating….
Last night, I had to take my little puppy to the pet ER. She just wasn’t acting right. Turns out she had eaten a penny awhile back, and it caused Zinc toxicity or something along those lines. It caused her to be severely anemic, so she needed a blood transfusion.
I knew she was sick, and on the car ride to the pet ER, she used her little bit of strength to crawl into my lap. She looked up at me with those completely innocent puppy eyes, and I knew she trusted me completely, which made it horribly difficult to just hand her over to the assistant, as she mustered up just a little more energy in the form of a protest.
That was difficult, but when they came back and told me that she was going to need surgery and the transfusion, I was tested even more. We can’t afford it. Shoot, we couldn’t afford to buy her in the first place. It was one of those spontaneous EPM reactions that I never experienced before! What the Hell was I thinking?
So when they showed me the bill, and the reality hit that I could buy two more puppies for the price to fix this one, I was left with a terrifying choice; Put this one to sleep or save her life.
Maybe there was never really any choice at all. I can’t stand hitting butterflies with my car…not kidding, I actually cringe (try living in the country and not hit a butterfly with your car), so I don’t know why I thought I could possibly euthanize my little puppy.
Guess fixing the central heating and air will have to wait another year.
I really don’t know what I was thinking when I bought a dog, but when I walked into the room where she was in her cage, and she mustered up all of her strength to stand up and walk over to me and climbed up into my arms and put her little head against my cheek, I couldn’t help but start to cry. And it was even more heart breaking when I had to put her back in the cage, and she struggled to get back to me. One of the assistants had to come over and take her.
She is so sick, and she still wanted so desperately to be with me.
It was devastatingly hard coming home last night, knowing that she was going to be in that strange place, alone, and going through surgery.
I think I cried for an hour straight.
The really pathetic thing in that is that I can’t cry without causing a severe immune reaction. If I cry for five minutes, it looks like I’ve been crying for hours. I get a severe headache, my eyes swell severely. It feels like I have sand in them, so it then hurts to blink. The next morning my eyelids will still be swollen to the point that they look translucent, and that’s only if I cry for five minutes. Because I cried for an hour, I woke with them seeping and swollen, and I have an unimaginable headache.
I was finally able to get some sleep when I found out around 5:30 am that Toffee made it through surgery, and is recovering well. Thank God!
But then I got additional bad news and with the exhausting pressure that I’m under, it seems that any news is bad news, and I don’t see silver linings. Frankly, I see lightening bolts. I see a million lightening bolts directed at me.
I’m EXHAUSTED. I’m physically, mentally, financially, and all the other ally’s exhausted. There is no more that I can take.
It’s when you hit this point in life, I think, that you simply become numb. You reach the moment where you have struggled so long and so hard that you simply can’t struggle any more. It’s time to float.
Hyponatremia and Central Pontine Myelinolysis 