And for that, I’m immensely grateful. Although, to be honest, if someone had threatened to put an end to me when all of this was first happening, I may have given the okay.
It began in June when Angel, my “mature” cat, decided to turn off her inner kitty GPS and get lost. I’m still not sure how she got out, but she did. Zach – who was passing through on his way back to Oregon – spent TWO WEEKS looking for her, putting up posters, etc. She never left the community and was seen in different homes, each one with my home’s outdoor structure. My community has quite a few ferals, and I think she was in touch with her inner kitty Tarzan.
I received a phone call from a neighbor around the corner and went over to get my little escapee. She had strolled into an open door and made herself at home. Definitely not a feral, and my neighbor laughed at Angel’s “I think I’m home” attitude!
I grabbed her and jogged home. And then something happened. I suddenly couldn’t breathe, and wanted to sit down on someone’s lawn so that I could catch my breath. By the time I got home, I sounded like a locomotive, wheezing and gasping. Once I collapsed into my recliner, I was mostly fine after about five/ten minutes. That said, I was a little panicky.
I’d never had an episode like that before, and frankly, it shook me up a bit.
But did I go to the doctor immediately? Of course not! I waited a while, took a home COVID test (negative), and finally went to Urgent Care after a few days when I couldn’t walk further than about five feet without gasping for air and being drained of any stamina.
I was scared. Really scared. More than any other time in my life, to be honest.
Fast forward to December, after several months of living in clinics.
While I’m better – thanks to actually following doctor’s instructions and taking a boatload of meds – things are still not 100%. After several months of scans, tests, procedures, sonograms, and whatever other things that the medical community thought up, I still have a ways to go. I mentioned at one point that I was glowing in the dark from all the scans I was getting.
January is already jam-packed with even more processes, mystery probing, scans (I’m sure), and who knows what else. I’ll share what I feel comfortable doing, but as you can guess, I’d rather keep everything as private as possible.
The good thing is that doctors are no longer doing a minute-by-minute countdown to the end!
And for what it’s worth, Zach decided to stay – at least for a while – and his help has been invaluable. Life-saving, even. Which was needed when I was so short of both stamina and air! And thanks to my friends and family who kept an eye out for me.
