The Lion loves the cat.

If I cough too hard, I feel like I’m getting stabbed in the boob. I speculate that I keep partially dislocating a rib: this is based on internet research, of course, because even stabbing chest pain comes with the underlying question of: “Is this worth the medical bill?” 

It’s on the right side of my chest, I should add. And it doesn’t happen every time I cough, just on the most forceful ones. This is good because I’ve been coughing a lot as this cold slowly drains out of my head like melting snowpack. At first it was the dry, useless cough of the constant tickle of post nasal drip. Yesterday it was the wet cough of consumption. Today it is an ongoing throat clearing like a Victorian politician preparing to pontificate. Perhaps tomorrow it will be the polite ‘ahems’ of an annoyed librarian.

One thing is for certain, though, I need to get back up on my feet: life is moving very fast around me and I’m anxious to keep up with all the looming changes. The cat continues to fade. The tumor is the size and firmness of a russet potato and he can’t put much weight on his leg. As a family, we’ve become very interested in his bowel movements. I may or may not have excitedly texted the Curmudgeonly Lion with the message: “He pooped!” He appears to have put on weight, counter-intuitively: last week he was getting so thin it was possible to feel the bones of his back and hips, but now he appears to be almost plump. I suppose it is because he’s not moving around much- that’s what happens when you get painkillers three times a day.

I think I’m beginning to get used to the idea of letting him go. It’s not quite the same as actually accepting it, but at least it’s becoming familiar. Having that day of lying on the couch keeping him company really seemed to help. I’m still not sure when The Day will be, but it seems closer than ever. 

~ by Gwydhar Gebien on March 24, 2017.

One Response to “Recuperation”

  1. So sorry to hear about your kitty. So hard😿

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