It always begins in the middle of the night, doesn't it? It was 4:07AM when I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. I was trying to determine if the nausea was typical or something a little more to be concerned about... I could tell by the way Jeremy was breathing that he was awake too. I whispered "are you awake?" He replied "Does your stomach feel wonky too?"
Uh oh.
That was the beginning of a very rough 24 hours. I didn't eat all day and managed to eek my way through a couple of very important meetings, but after that I was done. Done. I came home and completely crashed. My spine felt like it was being twisted out like a dirty sponge by a giant with cactus hands while at the same time my ribs felt like they were being constricted by a medieval torture device. I developed a fever that redirected the pain from the center of my bones out to the edges of my skin – unbearable to the touch of pretty much everything. I watched Drive hoping Ryan Gosling would distract me I went to bed early and managed to break my fever over and over again in cycles of hot sweats all night long.
And Jeremy? Ditto. At one point his fever was .2 degrees lower than mine so he volunteered to go out and some generic Cinnamon Life cereal, his comfort food, and some Glutino crackers and red grapes, to freeze, for me. I've never even had Glutino crackers and hardly ever crave grapes but it's the only thing my broken body could imagine tolerating.
But this post isn't just about feeling like death. It's about my sweet little kitty cat. Mister Scooty Boots practically watched vigil over Jeremy and me for the 24 hours that we thought we might die. He stood fast on our sweaty bodies in soaked sheets just to make sure we were still breathing. And you guys... I used to think cats were one-dimensionally aloof – that only dogs were capable of the kind of loyalty and companionship a pet can provide. But Boots ... he made me feel safe – like I wasn't going to die. I was sick as a dog and taken care of by a cat.
Or maybe he was just waiting to call dibs on my eyeballs, before his sister could get to them, should I perish in my sleep.
I think he was just wondering why you weren't feeding him constantly.
ReplyDeletePets are weird like that. I grew up with a dog that didn't like kids...even us...but whenever we were sick, he would sit by the couch all day, frequently putting his head under our dangling arms, insisting we pet him (which in any other circumstance he would hate). It's like he wanted to make sure we got the love and attention we needed, even if it meant begrudgingly getting hugged within an inch of his life.
ReplyDeleteHope you two are feeling better, and that your cat is taking diligent care of you (and your tasty eyeballs). :-)
A couple of years ago, a colleague of my husband's heard that I liked to read so he sent over a few books. None of them were really my thing but I didn't want to be rude so I read one of the three. I can't remember the name but it was the true story of a cat in a palliative care home that would sit and hold vigil with elderly patients until they died. Literally, it would enter a room and not leave for days until the person passed away and then it would get up and leave and wait until it was needed again. It was seriously, fascinating.
ReplyDeleteGlad to hear you are feeling better!
I LOVE how this post ended as an ode to your cat. My two furballs don't exactly have Mister Scooty Boots' bedside manners. However, my tuxedo, Peggy is daddy's little girl. And my fatty, Bill, is loyal like the best of dogs.
ReplyDeleteAw! What a cutie :) Sorry to hear you were so sick, that sounds miserable. When we aren`t sick, we forget how horrible it is when we are. And its funny what strange foods we want to eat when we are ill... For me is bagels and apple juice, which I never normally eat!
ReplyDeleteSome Snapshots Blog
Jess
Ugh, do you ever read about someone else being sick and then instantly feel the symptoms yourself? I need to go distract myself now and get my mind out of the hypochondriacal (dude, that is actually a word!) gutter.
ReplyDeleteAlso, yes, WHY does it always happen in the middle of the night?! I've never once gotten the stomach flu in the middle of the day. There has to be some physiological reason. After I got the stomach flu for the first time as a little kid, I cried every time I went bed for the next week because I was convinced I was going to have to wake up in the middle of the night to puke.
Anyway, =[ for being sick, but =] for getting to the other side! The day after is always SO glorious, because you feel like you're truly living for the first time. Or at least I do. Wow, I have a lot of thoughts on this topic.
The small text, cracked me up!
ReplyDeleteI hate feeling THIS sick. I had this same sickness when I was on vacation for Christmas in colorado. It was awful. I would have given anything for my sweet cat and dog to be with me then. They are special little beings aren't they?
I have had a cold all this week, went home early from work on Monday and my cat was by my side all day. Again, special little beings... or eyeball hungry watchers.
This whole thing is why I love having cats. They do this so well.
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