It’s been a tough couple of days, for reasons completely unrelated to alcohol.
I adopted a cat from a shelter a few days ago, who turned out to be very, very sick. She had a 105.2 fever yesterday (106 is organ failure), the cause of which is unknown, but probably due to complications linked to the fact that she was spayed at the SPCA, WHILE she was pregnant (number of foetuses unknown) last week! WTF!!!!! I didn’t even know they did that! And nobody told me when I adopted her.
Yesterday we had an emergency trip to the vet and a night of monitoring her closely as she -quite unresponsively- struggled through the night. But life kept on pulsing through her, though I had my doubts and lost hope several times.
After a whole day of “staying calm” and “keeping it together”, last night I finally allowed myself to feel my feelings. When I stroked her and she wouldn’t move or open her eyes, I worried that she was dead. Waves of sadness came and went, and I started crying and stopped again, thinking that she might die at any moment. Although we are supposed to be on a break (we just can’t get along these days), my boyfriend came over and was a huge help/emotional support. We went out to buy a baby thermometer and stuck it up the cat’s butt to take her temperature. Bonding ^^. This morning her temperature seems back to normal.
So little Fern made it through the night but is still lethargic and “touch and go”. The vet is supposed to call today to check on us.
Why this post that has little to do with recovery?
Precisely because I realized that when shit hit the fan, I was (and still am) 100% focused on the situation at hand, and alcohol isn’t on my mind at all. I wasn’t expecting to have to deal with the possible death of an innocent little creature during her first few days at home. But drinking seems like the last thing I would want to do in such a situation. Last night I did have a fleeting thought as we walked back from the pharmacy, (“if she dies, will I want a ‘fuck it’ beer?)”, but we were walking past a bar when the thought occurred. And then it passed.
I know that Fern is “just a cat”, and I have only known her for a few days. I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like to deal with the illness of a child, or the loss of a close loved one, sober. So far I’ve been fortunate enough in my life to only have to experience the death of my grandparents and my aunt. I know that people out there have faced much, much harder things. And that I will have to as well.
But I still wanted to write this post, to “celebrate” the fact that today is day 19 and I don’t have any desire to drink. I feel mostly nauseous, from worrying about this little fragile being. But I’m also present and aware of what’s going on. I’m not running away from reality. I hope things get better soon for little Fern.