Last week, my guinea pig, Sparkler, got sick. She died last night (August 19, 2008). I was holding her when she passed. I think she waited for me to get home from work so we could say goodbye. During my lunch hour yesterday, I spent the time holding her. I put her in her cage and went back to work. Then I had to go out to dinner to welcome the new teachers. I came home and took her out of her cage. She squeaked a few times. Purred a little bit. Looked up at me, and then she went to heaven.
I hurt right now. I only had my little girl for about 7 months. It wasn’t enough time with her.
Last weekend (about 10 days ago), my world got turned upside down just a touch. I don’t know why this is bugging me so much. I mean, I don’t have much of an emotional attachment to my mother. Let me back up. I found out a few months ago that my mother has uterine cancer. She was having some problems with bleeding, so the doctor didn’t want to do the hysterectomy until that was sorted out. During this discussion with her, my mother led me to believe she was severely anemic and nothing more (not that anemia isn’t serious).
She tells me last weekend that the reason for the bleeding (she needed a transfusion of 3 pints of blood after the D&C) was liver failure. She needs a liver transplant. In some ways, I’m not surprised. She was a heavy drinker all my life.
Before she can have the transplant she has to have 6 weeks of radiation. Only then will they put her on the list if they are convinced the cancer is in remission.
I’m trying to figure why this has hit me so hard. I honestly can’t say I love my mother. She did too much shit for me to ever love her. It’s taken me a long time to get over the bitterness, and I don’t think I’m totally over it. I’m confused, to say the least. I have no control over this. I hate feeling out of control. And those caretaker instincts kick in. I want to take care of her. That’s what I did growing up.
I guess it boils down that I’m falling back into those old behaviors. They caused me more distress growing up than I care to remember. Just writing this out has helped some.
Add this little twist… I have no idea what has triggered my anxiety the last 3 weeks or so. I’ve been having severe panic attacks, especially at night. I haven’t slept well in a couple weeks as well. All this together is sending me into a depressive episode that’s slightly too deep for my comfort. I’ve temporarily boosted the Zoloft back to 100mg a day. I had been stable at 75 for quite a while.
I’m tired. I don’t know any other way to put it. Work takes every ounce of my available energy. Putting on a happy face and singing silly children’s songs all morning is nearly more than I can bear. I want to hide in my closet. I have to keep my doors closed because I can’t stand to hear the kids screaming during lunch time. None of these are good signs.
Something bit me on the leg. It happened Wednesday during the day. By Wednesday night it was pretty itchy. By Thursday it was red and hot. Today, it hadn’t gotten any better, so I decided to go to the doctor. I had my choice of the clinic up the street and the guy I usually see at LotteMart. It hurts somewhat to walk, so I was going to go to the clinic. But, I kinda freaked out at the thought of someone I don’t know touching my leg. I was already anxious to begin with, so why add a stranger into the equation.
I ended up catching a cab to LotteMart to see Dr. Jeong. I tried my best to stay calm as he was poking at my leg. I didn’t stay real calm, but I did manage to keep my head in the present. He ended up giving me a steroid cream, an antibiotic cream and an oral antihistamine.
Oh well. After using the steroid cream, my leg is already feeling better. I’ve gotten myself calmed down. I did better than I thought I would.