Two weeks ago I was the sickest I've ever been in years. I couldn't move an inch without having problems breathing and had to sit down after walking one flight of stairs. I hadn't eaten anything in seven days and when I would try, it would just come back up. I had gone to the doctors and she suspected a kidney infection and left me with this piece of advice. If I don't eat something in the next two hours, I needed to get myself to the emergency room. Thus the sick adventure began.
First up, projectile vomiting in the car...this happened on my way home from the doctors. I was four blocks from home and I started getting this nauseous feeling and all of the sudden it just came up. CRAP, I make a split decision and veer off onto a side street, screeching to a halt and opening the door at the same time I let it fly, all the while hoping no one drives past me and in line of vomit. Once I was convinced the episode was over, I hightailed it back home and for the first time in 20 something years, I had to call my mom to come help me.
My mom came a few hours later and by then I was a disgrace. The poor kitties had not been fed dinner, they were starving, and they were too scared to sit with me for fear of being puked upon. My mom stayed with me for two fun filled, well, fun for her, days. Yes, I said days, whereupon I found that she had gone on a shopping spree, somehow unprogrammed the washing machine, couldn't work the T.V. oh, and did I mention she lost the cat?
I was starting to feel a bit better and was able to sit up for more than 2 minutes. She came into my room and started bawling that she lost the cat:
Mom: I lost the cat
Me: Huh?
Mom: I can't find Lenore. I've looked everywhere
Me: She's gotta be around here somewhere. You DID keep all the doors closed, right?
Mom: (now really starting to cry) Yes. She's not anywhere.
Me: Mom, stop crying I can't handle it I say while wobbling around looking in nooks and crannies and an hour later it was discovered she was in the garage.
SOMEONE didn't keep the doors closed... Oh, and while all of this is happening, my mom got in touch with her hippie self and decided to burn sage to get rid of the bad energy. Now, if you've ever burned sage then you know it burns up like a Christmas tree. So in the midst of me doing my best 95 year old lady impression, the cat on her own little adventure, my mother bawling while almost setting the house ablaze a moment of clarity happened.
No, you don't choose your family, and sometimes it's the little quarks of family that can get you through the sickest of times. If I haven't said it already, thanks mom.
