Wednesday, December 14, 2011


Today was better. And worse.

There is always a brief moment when I first wake up in the morning where I feel groggy but okay. But within a few minutes, I know if it's going to start. This morning, I thought "Hmm, I feel okay. We'll see." A few minutes later, I started to tremble and thought that was it. Except it never really ramped up all the way.

It was a hectic morning. Charlotte had her 1 month check-up and I was taking both kids with me by myself for the first time. Our nanny came to help me get them ready, so I wasn't totally on my own, but she could only stay long enough for that, not to come with us. As one of my biggest fears is being alone with the kids, that was pretty scary. But we managed.

Getting out of the house felt good. I mean really good. Just driving in the car felt like some freedom. Robbie was super perky, too. I think he was glad to be out of our walls as well. Quarantine is hard.

The appointment went great. Charlotte is up to 6lb 3oz, more than a pound gain since her last check up. Her tone and reflexes were were better than average. Our pediatrician was overjoyed. We don't have to go back for a month. Robbie was very cooperative minus a little whining about wanting to be carried, but he got over it quickly. Of course, the poor guy got a flu shot for his reward. Oops. But it's for everyone's good.

His fever from yesterday is magically gone. The doc chalked it up to a diurnal temperature shift and wasn't worried. Phew. We headed home. I was still feeling good. Just the faintest hint of shakiness, but my mind was clear.

At one point, Robbie started talking to the receptionist in a cute fashion and I chuckled. Then I realized "wow, I just laughed. For real." I froze and just took it in. It felt good. Real laughter is rare right now.

At home, Robbie ate lunch slowly and instead of being impatient, I was able to sit with him and convince him to eat a little more. I pulled him onto my lap and snuggled him a while. He beamed and it felt really good. This is what motherhood is supposed to feel like. This is what it felt like a few months ago. I want it to feel that way again.

After he went down for a nap, Charlotte and I took one, too. My fluffy cat, Contessa, joined us. It felt good. Everything felt better today.

When we woke up, the jittering was back. It was also time for my medicine, so I took it and hope it wouldn't amp everything up.

The evening wasn't so great, but in a less expected way. Contessa has been rapidly losing weight and had a vet appointment to check her out tonight. My dad took her. He called and told me it was bad news. She has cancer.

She has been with me 13 years. She was a 9 week old fluffball at the human society when I adopted her in 1998. I was barely making minimum wage, dating losers. She's seen me through a lot of changes. And now her time is limited. We don't know how long. She has an orange sized mass on her organs on the left side. The doctor can't tell if it's her spleen or kidneys, but it's large and irregularly sized. She's 13 years old and clearly failing. We opted not to pursue testing as the chances of treatment and surgery doing much to prolong her life with any quality is slim. We are very sad.

There were lots of tears in our house, but it didn't send me over the edge like I was afraid it would. I worried about how to explain things to Robbie. I worried about David (who cried in spite of really not being one to do so) but I worried about them in a normal, sad, grieving way. I've spent lots of time petting her tonight.

Eventually I realized the shaking had stopped again. And my mind has stayed clear. My blood pressure has also been normal. It's hard to call it a good day with the news about Contessa, but I can say it could have been a worse day. The news could have come yesterday and I'm not sure I could have taken it. So I'll thank God for small blessings.

Thank you for everyone's support. I do not know what tomorrow will bring. Perhaps another stable day. Perhaps not. If there's one thing that the news about my kitty reminds us, it's that we have to take each day one at a time. There are no guarantees about tomorrow.



Amanda said...

Always thinking and praying for you! Thank God for small mercies thru the day!

Sharyn said...

Keep hanging in there.

Searching said...

I am thankful for the good moments, and the ability to cope! So sorry about your beloved kitty. :(

Anonymous said...

I think it's starting to work Trish. Cheering for you and sending you good energy and thoughts! Hang in there mama and I'm so sorry about your sweet kitty. Such a well loved girl, and such a nice life she has with you. It is so hard to lose pets but they do have such short lives, it's the agreement we make with them when we bring them into our homes and hearts. Thinking of you!

~ Alicia

Trish said...

I'll write a post later, Alicia, but I think you're right. Today was about like yesterday. mostly better. Side effects not so troubling and the anxiety was manageable.

And thanks for the condolences on my kitty. She's getting spoiled now for sure. I don't know how long she has, but we'll make her as happy as possible for as long as we have.