MARCH
On March 1, while I was driving home from a church meeting, a black cat crossed my path. I wouldn't call myself superstituous, but I noticed the cat. I noted the color. And I wondered if, on some plane, it could be a bad omen.
An hour later my dog got run over by a car.
While driving to the veterinary hospital I told Randy: "I'm not saying it means anything, but a black cat ran in front of me while I was driving home earlier."
Later I told a woman about the cat. "It's only bad luck if he is running from the right to the left."
"He was," I said.
"Oh," she replied, suddenly serious.
We made more trips to the hospital -- both to the veterinary hospital and the human hospital -- in March of 2019 than we have in the entirety of our 5 years together.
Cinnamon spent a week in the hospital, undergoing hernia surgery because her insides had more or less been torn in two. The week after she was released we were back at the hospital because one of her staples tore and fluid poured out of her like she was 9 months pregnant and her water had just broken. A few days later we were back to get the rest of the staples out. A week later we had a follow-up appointment to see if the antibiotics (one of 15 pills she was on) had knocked out the infection that had manifested in the area where the staple was torn. And we finally got a good report -- the infection was gone! On March 22 she was taken off all restrictions. She could walk and play and eat and bathe and snuggle as she pleased.
Okay, so I'm leaving out a few *minor* details. When Cinnamon was run over she sustained one broken bone. A miracle! Only one! Her tail. Which she has yet to move in the month since the accident, and in the coming weeks we'll have to decide whether or not to amputate. In addition to the broken tail, she sustained trauma to the nerves that control her urination & defecation. Which means she can't hold it, and she can't push it out.
I feel like I've just brought my newborn home from the hospital. My life now revolves around wiping a tiny little bottom, putting salve on it so it doesn't get too red, trying to keep the little one from pulling off her diaper when I can get her to wear one, daily washing poop out of her hair and wallpapering the house in potty pads. Especially now that she feels good enough to jump on the furniture. She's finally started sleeping at night, which is a true blessing because we were about to go plum mad from sleep deprivation. Now if only we could get her to stop eating her poop...
In the midst of our doggy drama, my dad had his hip replaced. My dad rarely gets sick and even more rarely goes to the hospital, so this was a new venture for all of us. Mom handled it like a champ. (The upside to being a regular at the hospital is that she trusts the doctors, knowing that she has always woken up from anesthesia so obviously Dad would too. And of course she was right!) Randy and I tried to be at the hospital as much as possible, in between changing potty pads and trips to the veterinary hospital and work. Dad is recovering well and says he can't even tell the difference between his real hip and the new bionic one.
Finally, Randy had his own doctoring to do. One more trip to the hospital before we closed out March. On the morning of his procedure, I cracked open some eggs to make breakfast and one of them had a double yolk. Good luck! Perhaps our month of bad luck is over, and April will turn over a new leaf, one of good fortune and healing and positive blessings... if you believe in such things...
An hour later my dog got run over by a car.
While driving to the veterinary hospital I told Randy: "I'm not saying it means anything, but a black cat ran in front of me while I was driving home earlier."
Later I told a woman about the cat. "It's only bad luck if he is running from the right to the left."
"He was," I said.
"Oh," she replied, suddenly serious.
We made more trips to the hospital -- both to the veterinary hospital and the human hospital -- in March of 2019 than we have in the entirety of our 5 years together.
Cinnamon spent a week in the hospital, undergoing hernia surgery because her insides had more or less been torn in two. The week after she was released we were back at the hospital because one of her staples tore and fluid poured out of her like she was 9 months pregnant and her water had just broken. A few days later we were back to get the rest of the staples out. A week later we had a follow-up appointment to see if the antibiotics (one of 15 pills she was on) had knocked out the infection that had manifested in the area where the staple was torn. And we finally got a good report -- the infection was gone! On March 22 she was taken off all restrictions. She could walk and play and eat and bathe and snuggle as she pleased.
Okay, so I'm leaving out a few *minor* details. When Cinnamon was run over she sustained one broken bone. A miracle! Only one! Her tail. Which she has yet to move in the month since the accident, and in the coming weeks we'll have to decide whether or not to amputate. In addition to the broken tail, she sustained trauma to the nerves that control her urination & defecation. Which means she can't hold it, and she can't push it out.
I feel like I've just brought my newborn home from the hospital. My life now revolves around wiping a tiny little bottom, putting salve on it so it doesn't get too red, trying to keep the little one from pulling off her diaper when I can get her to wear one, daily washing poop out of her hair and wallpapering the house in potty pads. Especially now that she feels good enough to jump on the furniture. She's finally started sleeping at night, which is a true blessing because we were about to go plum mad from sleep deprivation. Now if only we could get her to stop eating her poop...
In the midst of our doggy drama, my dad had his hip replaced. My dad rarely gets sick and even more rarely goes to the hospital, so this was a new venture for all of us. Mom handled it like a champ. (The upside to being a regular at the hospital is that she trusts the doctors, knowing that she has always woken up from anesthesia so obviously Dad would too. And of course she was right!) Randy and I tried to be at the hospital as much as possible, in between changing potty pads and trips to the veterinary hospital and work. Dad is recovering well and says he can't even tell the difference between his real hip and the new bionic one.
Finally, Randy had his own doctoring to do. One more trip to the hospital before we closed out March. On the morning of his procedure, I cracked open some eggs to make breakfast and one of them had a double yolk. Good luck! Perhaps our month of bad luck is over, and April will turn over a new leaf, one of good fortune and healing and positive blessings... if you believe in such things...
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