tuesday morning. i have a day off, glory be.
i'm sitting on the porch with jesse cat, a cup of coffee, my camera, and--of course--my lappy. helen is dressed up like a teacher in a school full of childrens. i will drive over to my therapist's office in a little while.
sometimes i wonder if i should show up there with a list of things eating at me, so that she can dispel them one by one. that's what i pay her for, right?
without fail, i sit down in her office, take a swig of water, and go absolutely blank. i suddenly feel as if i'm about to begin an ill-fated interview, rather than a therapeutic appointment to help me be a healthier person on the inside. more than once, she has said to me as i fumble for words: "i feel like i'm working harder than you are right now", and she's right. for being a person who prides herself on her ability to communicate, "i don't know" becomes my favorite phrase.
am i making any progress at all? my therapist says i am. after all, i haven't fallen into the abysmal place since june. that's a longer stretch than i can remember happening in recent years.
today, i can imagine myself telling her about gunther. we took him to the vet yesterday, and they don't know what's wrong with him. at six months old, he weighs 2 lbs 3 oz. he has been acting like a kitty who is not feeling good, and so he had to endure blood tests. only, three people couldn't hold down my 2 lb kitten long enough to draw the blood. gunther is a fighter. after several unsuccessful needle pokes into his neck, he had to be sedated. they shaved his neck, and his bare little throat looks like it's been attacked by vampires.
last night, the sedative had not worn off. he shook with cold, couldn't eat, and stumbled around, stoned.
clem nosed him off the couch once, and he landed on his head. i feel sick.
he slept with me, pressed against my hip under the blankets. he responded to food this morning, though he is still walking like he's a little bit stoned. we will know the results of the blood tests this afternoon.
i will tell my therapist that i'm afraid little gunther's life hangs in the balance today. that we've known all along that he wouldn't have a normal kitty life, but that i am afraid of him being in pain. and i am afraid of letting him go. i will tell her that i am trying to be positive and peaceful around the world's tiniest kitten.
i will say that i want to be selfish and do everything i can to keep him alive for a long, long time.
he's not just a sick little kitten, i'll say. he's part of our family. we allowed his mother to get pregnant so that we could meet him. we are responsible for the existence of his life at all.
time to go.
Posted by bananie at January 30, 2007 9:55 AM | TrackBack