You know when people put lots of cream in their coffee and then someone says, “Would you like a little coffee with that creamer?” Looking at my pictures this week and reflecting on the life I’ve lived during the past seven days, I feel like I should be asking myself: “Would you like a little life with that cat?” But the answer is: “I don’t know? I mean, I think he’s my soulmate and that’s what life is supposed to be about, right?”
Sunday
I was able to give him his subcutaneous fluids twice this week. They recommended every two to three days. I’m going with every three days for now. It’s taken us a little while to get the hang of it, and I don’t want his whole life to be dreading getting stuck with a needle. Or having a cocktail of potassium powder and chicken broth squirted from a syringe into his mouth, which now occurs daily.
If he was in pain, I would start to ponder quality of life questions, but he’s still himself. He runs, plays, poops, pees, eats, and begs for treats. He also cuddles with me. And puts me to bed. And comes a trotting to check that I’m okay when he hears me give a distressed “ow ow ow” from the other room (my stomach was doing something weird; I believe it was related to my period).
I am aware I sound like a crazy, cat lady. Well, I’m a lady, I’m crazy, and I own a cat. It was a perfect storm.
Monday
Nick popped into the doorway to say hello while I was working out in their garage. It was nice to see another human in person, even if only for a few minutes.
Tuesday
The snow caught me off guard again. But I didn’t mind it so much. Snow can be pretty sometimes, especially when you’re cozy inside with no place to go.
Wednesday
Sam seems to have learned that if he snuggles with me, I won’t get up to get him meds. I was just about to go mix his potassium when he suddenly looked at me from the carpet and hopped right up. This look here? Yeah. It clearly says, “I know what you were about to do. We’re doing this instead, understand?”
Thursday
“Wait! Why are you going downstairs again? It’s dark. It’s time to be upstairs now. Preferably in bed.”
Turns out Sammy and I will be spending Thanksgiving together, just the two of us I think.
Here’s the thing: I love Thanksgiving. I love the simplicity of it — though I’m sure the people in charge of actually making dinner would bump on the word simplicity. But it’s not about a bunch of pomp and circumstance. Don’t get me wrong — I love Christmas. But Thanksgiving isn’t about presents or decorations or church; it’s about eating dinner together. I love that! And I love the coziness of it. I love playing cards or board games before dinner. I LOVE my mom’s food (it’s fire). And I love cuddling up under a blanket after for a good movie.
The trouble is, my mom doesn’t care too much about holidays if my brother can’t come home.
Maybe that isn’t fair? Maybe the way she sees it, it isn’t really fair to my brother to celebrate without him if he can’t come home. I get that. But I don’t get why Steven doesn’t prioritize coming home for holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas. Back when he was in the service, sure, okay, you can’t just go home whenever you want to. But once he was done? Once he moved to Boston? Which is only four or so hours away?
This is the first year he’s had a girlfriend’s family to consider, so it’s not even like he had that excuse in the past. But every year it seems to be difficult for him to figure out how to make it work. He’s often choosing either Thanksgiving or Christmas… I get that sometimes it’s hard. But every year it’s that difficult? Especially when he goes gallivanting off on snowboarding trips and island excursions whenever a group of friends organizes something. And then he says it’s hard getting time off. Sure. Whatever you say.
Maybe I’m just jealous.
But last year we didn’t have a real Thanksgiving because he didn’t come home. I volunteered at the community center, then brought my grandma a meal. It was nice. But it wasn’t family dinner.
This year, the plan was for Steven and Katrina to drive in late Wednesday. They live together and have both been working remotely. My mom is working at the casino still, but she typically has Mondays through Wednesdays off anyway. So a negative COVID test Monday morning would have let us know we were a go for a Thursday dinner.
But then two things transpired:
- My brother and his girlfriend went on an impromptu vacation to like, the fucking Virgin Islands or something.
- My Mom now has to work Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.
Like. WTF. According to my dad, there aren’t many COVID cases in the Virgin Islands, but they’re flying back through NYC and Boston. So. Um. Yeah.
My mom said that since she has to work, she’d cook ahead of time and we could heat up the leftovers for a lunch together Thursday before she goes back in. I’m like: Um. No. First of all — where’s my formal fucking dinner? And board games? And movie? Secondly — y’all can keep your COVID germs to yourselves, thanks.
My dad called to tell me they’re stressed and are still trying to figure out exactly what to do. I said, “Let me make it easier for you. Have fun without me.”
Apparently my family doesn’t get that my immune system is fucked. But Sammy and I keep each other good company. So it’s fine.
Friday
Look how pretty a new day can be?
Or, really, a new evening. Because the first half of the day didn’t feel new. It felt like the same record groove we’ve been stuck on for months. We had to sign on early for an emergency faculty meeting in which they informed us we will be remote on Monday and Tuesday. They’ll make a decision about the weeks preceding Christmas by the morning of Sunday the 29th. Because 20 hours will definitely give teachers and families plenty of time to plan.
But the afternoon? It was nice enough out for a walk with Kath. And the fresh air did me good.
Saturday
Sometimes when I’m lying in bed or when I’m doing yoga upstairs, I look at my ceiling and I see several meerkats and sloths looking back down at me. There’s an opossum in there, too. Some of them are upside down in this picture. I’ll get another angle another day.