%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |  Zee Journal! |
| Still sore. Tomorrow morning(or I should say later this morning) will be the two week anniversary of having my gut torn open in three seperate locations. Still can't stand to sit upright, or stand for long periods of time. I have to get my paperwork put in for my temporary disability tomorrow along with picking up my paycheck. I'm going to give my mother the whole thing to repay some of what she has done for me since going into the hospital. Last night at 3:09 in the morning I had to put down my cat Sabrina. She was thirteen years old, and she was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Earlier that morning she had began to act incredibly funny. She was dosile, allowing you to carry her. My baby, besides me, wouldn't allow anyone to cradle her. She disappeared for most of the day until I found her crying behind my couch around 4. She was crying because she couldn't move her body, but she was urinating all over herself. I couldn't even pick her up because of my stomach. My mother did it. Soon after she was out the door to the vet. Near 6 in the evening she came back with the her in a bag. Her face was that papercup crushed expression of grief and all she could say was they believed she had a brain tumor and that she should have put her down but she wanted to see what the blood tests would yield. My mother spent 600 dollars on tests on an animal we both knew was nearly gone if not already. The family spent the night in the front room: my mother on the couch, Sabrina's three sisters: Cheyanne, Panther, and Yoda adorning different positions on the couch, my German Shepherd Katie, and myself laying prone on the bed next to our dying baby. I knew that she was gone the moment she was pulled out of the bag. She opened her eyes, her body moved, but her eyes shown hollow. It didn't hit me until we were half-way through the third season of the Shield. I looked over to watch her, as if on repeat, lift her head and look to her left, then look to her right. She did this for nearly fifteen minutes before she quieted back into her seemingly restful slumber. Around two in the morning, after whatever episode we just finished, she began to convulse. She would simply shake, open her mouth, and then lie down just to repeat the process moments later. I told my mom I didn't care the cost, I wanted to take her to be put down. I simply couldn't watch her any longer. She agreed and so I put the only pair of clothes I had that weren't pajames: a pair of dirty blue jeans and my polo shirt I wore when admitted into the hospital. I lifted her from her chair, regardless of pain, and wrapped her into a blanket. Her body, except for the spasms, laid limp. More like a multi-jointed doll than a living creature. Wherever gravity desired her limbs to go, they went. My mom cried the entire trip to the Emergency Clinic. For some reason I just stared out the window watching the lights and taking in the night air. We had to be buzzed into the clinic. They were open 24 hours, but they locked up during the evening. The nurse asked me, the bundle in my arms, what I needed and I simply told her I needed to have her put down. After giving her the run down of the day's vet appointment she took her into the back to have the catheder administered. I took care of everything. My mother sat in the waiting room and cried as I ok'ed the procedure and the price($185). I made the whole process as quick as I could. 1.) Get her in. 2.) Get it paid for. 3.) Have her brought into the room to have it administered. 4.) Leave. I couldn't bring myself to do any longer. The doctor came in and explained the procedure. Informed me of the possibilities. How her bladder and sphincter might release. How she might have a phantom breath as the brain causes the body to take one last sharp intake. She did none of it. Simply faded away with the injections. I'm not exactly sure she was alive when placed on the table. I brushed my fingers across her as I watched the doctor inject first a clear water solution to flush the IV(One of those conveniences for the deceased), the first injection to put her to sleep, and then the third to overdose her into eternal sleep. I couldn't help but to cry and let out snippets of my life with her. Telling the doctor through choked sobs that I had her for thirteen years. How I raised her and her three sisters on bottles. How I wished I could do more. How I loved her. The doctor placed her stethascope to her chest, telling me that she had passed. She asked if I wanted to spend any time with her and I just shook my head, turning to leave for the door. She apologized to me. I told her it wasn't her fault and left. My mother and I cried in the waiting room for a bit before we left, my arms bundled around the hair covered blanket I brought my baby in on. The lights for the room my baby passed turned off as my car door closed. When we came home all of the animals seemed to have disappeared from the front room. As if they knew they had paid their respects and now off in their own areas of the house to grieve as they wished. My mother and I came back and turned the Shield back on, watching them well into the morning hours not really talking with one another until finally somewhere around seven I asked her, "Want to watch another or go to bed?" So now, here I am. I want to write more but I'm afraid my organs won't allow it. Thanks for sticking around. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
