So I'm excited today for a couple of reasons. First, I started singing lessons again. I haven't taken singing lessons since 2001-ish, when I was a regular in the south-london flat of a welshman who was seriously into West End stuff. We did a lot of musicals, and I entertained my housemates by singing In Whatever Time We Have in the shower every morning. I really miss singing, and am desperate to find a choir again. I really need to make that a priority.
Secondly, I have an appointment tomorrow with the OB and he might do an ultrasound and I might be able to hear the heartbeat. How freaking cool would that be!! It totally weirds me out to think that there's something with a heartbeat inside of me right now. It's kind of Alien-ish. I try not to think about that aspect too much. Just like I try not to think about how the ending of this nine-month saga is going to go - ie labor. I couldn't watch the video in 11th grade health class. I'm definitely not reading ahead in What to Expect.... I figure that women have been doing it for thousands and thousands and millions of years, and if it was really that horrible, the species would simply cease to procreate.
The third thing I'm excited about is that ClassicFM now has an android app, so I can listen in the car, all the time. My friend Sandor hates ClassicFM because they don't play complete works, so it's kind of like pop-classical music. But I like it. Or rather, the ADD in me likes it. So I'm a big fan of the android app.
It's nice to be excited about something after the week we had last week.
The main thing was that the cats were super-sick. They'd been fighting off colds, all of them, for a week or so, but then Big Boy, the tiny runt of the litter of kittens, came down with it really badly. And the deal with cats and colds is that if they're congested and can't smell their food, they won't eat. And if they don't eat regularly, they get something called Fatty Liver disease, which can kill them quite quickly. So we took Big Boy to the emergency vet on Monday, and then again on Tuesday when he still wasn't eating. Each time they gave him antibiotics and fluids under his skin (subquetaneous is the medical term).
On Tuesday they gave us the bag of fluids to take home so we didn't need to keep bringing him in. He hates the car rides. So we became de facto nurses, injecting him with 100ml of fluids every day. He put up a nasty fight each time, and I have the scars to prove it. And it was absolutely horrible. After we finally got him restrained so that we could put the needle in, he would wail, and moan, stick his tongue out, cry in the most pitiful way. It was awful. We had to try to stay calm when we were waiting for the fluids to go in, hoping that he would pick up on our calm and stop fighting it so much; but as soon as the 100ml were in, we would take the needle out, let him go, and collapse on the kitchen floor bawling our eyes out. I knew we were literally saving his life with those fluids, but it killed me to see him suffer and not understand that we weren't trying to hurt him, but were actually trying to help him.
The picture is of him in his carrier, where he spent almost the entire week, having to breathe with his mouth open. Poor little guy. He finally ate and drank on his own on Saturday morning, a week after the last time he'd eaten on his own. We cried when we saw him, this time for joy because we knew he was going to be well. Today he's back to his old self, playing and chasing me around like a puppy. I really missed him when he was sick.
So now, in honor of Big Boy being better, a reminder of just how cute he was when he was first born, and will be again as soon as he gets a bath to clean up all the snot that's accumulated in the strangest places (he somehow managed to get snot in his tail... I don't get it either). Hopefully this week will be calmer...