Dear FIVE readers, (waves to Jennifer W!),
As it’s officially January 6th now (as I write this), I feel I can safely say I’m done with what turned out to be the suck-assiest (not a word – yet!) holiday ever.
Stuff you know
Part 1: Father-in-law leaves this mortal coil suddenly.
Part 2: Aborted attempt at Christmas Eve followed by foul pasta. Sadness ensues.
Stuff you don’t
Part 3: Once again spending NYE with pals Kim and Sal @ a swanky dinner/dancing place. Last year, Kim was down with strep but Sal made her come anyway. Suffice to say no one was happy about that, least of all Kim who was at the doctor’s office at dawn on NY day.
This year, we buy tickets so if someone in the Kim/Sal team is ill, they are not forced to go by the spouse (coughSALcough) who doesn’t like to waste money.
All this is well and good, yes?
Yours truly, when pondering what to drink for the evening, decides (wrongly, so it turns out) to enjoy a white russian or 7. For those of you not in the know, a white russian is Kahlua (coffee flavored alcoholic sugar), vodka and cream. MMM! Tastes like an iced coffee. YUM! Let’s have more of these. On a somewhat empty stomach.
And now you can imagine the rest of the story.
In case you cannot, here are the highlights: Duty walks me to bathroom as I’m not able to get there on my own. While trying not to die in the stall, become sweat drenched and close to passing out. (As an aside, this is not quite how I planned to celebrate my new year!) Kim comes in twice asking if I’m okay. I respond “Yes, I’m fine” as I inch closer to (what feels like) death.
Finally stop sweating and realize I have to emerge from stall at some point, I come out. Kim helps me out to where Duty is waiting. They help me into the car. I am barely conscious.
(Should I leave out the part about having to stop on the side of the road for you know what reason? Yes, I thought so.)
Get home, wobble inside and upstairs where I collapse (sweaty and half conscious) into bed.
Here’s the diagnosis: Since having gastric bypass surgery many years ago, I cannot handle lots of sugar on an empty stomach. It causes all kinds of insulin to kick in and soon (within 2 hours) I’ve hit rock bottom on my sugar. I can usually tell when it’s coming and am able to avert it by eating something (carby or with sugar to absorb the insulin). However, the alcohol dulled my ability to do that and by the time I hit the bathroom, I was at a place you really don’t want to be with blood sugar issues. (aka: crashing hard) It’s happened to me before (very infrequently) and the sweating and shakes are followed by the intense desire to lie down and die.
Feel like death on NY day and miss big family fun (again!) at Godmommy’s house.
Next year, it’s Kim’s turn again to be sick.
More stuff you don’t know (unless you’re my friend on FB)
The saga of Mrs. Stinkersons has come to a sad end.
Mrs. Stinkersons (aka: Samantha aka Kibbens) was the little ten year old cat I adopted back in November as a rescue. She had all kinds of undiagnosed medical issues (heart murmur, kidney stuff and of course, her stinky-ass ears from tumors and stuff) and while a sweetie, was totally …. odd. She hung out in my closet, coming out for the occasional treat, hissings at Brogan and to snag lovies from me.
Loooong story short: Wonderful cat vet and I realized that she wouldn’t be around a whole long time so we tried to make her as comfortable as possible. When she fell down the steps a couple times because the tumors were messing with her ears and she was in pain, I thought we were going to have help her transition on Christmas Eve but she seemed to make a turn-around.
A short-lived one, as it turned out. On Wednesday (last) she came out of her closet and couldn’t move her back legs well. I remember that from Lucie and was worried she had a stroke. It was like her legs kept collapsing on her. I can’t handle seeing pets in pain so I called the vet and bundled her up and off we went. I knew she wasn’t well when she only yeowled a little bit in the car and then went to sleep. She usually howls the whole way.
So, it was time to send my little Kibbens over the Rainbow Bridge. She was only with me for less than two months but she was such a unique little kitty, I won’t forget her (or the little collar she wore that had hearts on it. I saved that.)
Final total for holiday season:
Dads: minus one
Kittens: minus one
Actual Christmas Eve spent with family: minus one although we did have a re-do (it wasn’t the same)
New Year midnight joy: minus one
Parties at Godmommy’s house: minus one
Ways I am glad to see 2012 end? 567
Enough drama there, Ms. Snarkela? GEEZ! You and Duty have experienced so much tumult in such a short period of time, it’s as though you’re a new millennium Matthew and Mary! Here’s hoping that 2013 brings you the serenity you deserve.
Oi Vay! Poor Miss Stinkersons.
The best part is that you made the end of her time, the best you could – she left from a warm home with love and attention, instead of a shelter of cages and strange noises.
So if we look at the bright side – you made a difference in her life, and gained some kitty angel points!
Lots of Hugs!
Jenn (in California)