The above sky was actually Sunday. Today’s was not as benign.
Which pretty well matched my mood, the post-oxy blues.
The smallest thing will make me weep.
Opening my email, I learned that Charlie the Daily Coyote has died.
Not a surprise. He was old and we’d been told he wasn’t doing so well.
There was no drama. He simply went to sleep without any assistance and in a favourite place.
A happy way to end a long, wonderful life.
But me being me, I felt so terribly sad. Over an animal I never met.
But he was in my inbox every day for almost 13 years and I will miss him. Not nearly as much as his people, of course.
Without permission, I can’t post one of Shreve’s pictures so here is a bookmark I made when I was messing about.
Charlie, of course was way more beautiful.
His daily photo was a bright spot in my day.
At my 3-monthly check with the new PCP, I learned that most of what I am feeling these days is totally routine for anyone weaned off oxycodone.
The constant nausea, constant head ache, anxiety, insomnia, leg cramps, depression.
Briefly I had a re-visit from the Creature of the Dark Cave.
She made me break things and I frightened the cats.
Hopefully she will not be back. I don’t like her.
She has dark thoughts.
The reason I mention these things is as information to anyone who might find themselves in my sort of situation. The one thing about all this I most object to, however, was being treated like a drug addict. I have never been addicted to anything. I was dependent on oxy for pain. I never craved it. I read that 450,000 people lost their lives because of the way this drug was pushed onto the market by the irresponsible, greedy inventors who are hoping to avoid law suits by declaring bankruptcy. No doubt they will succeed. It is so immoral, the society we live in.
My fluffy grey child comes to cheer me.
I thought I would share with you a surprising fact.
Willow gets liquid medicine twice a day.
(She is possibly epileptic. )
Like most cats, Willow was not keen on this.
For months she ran when she saw me with the vial.
Then she started running to my bedroom and jumping on the dresser where she would hunker down, prepared.
Just why she did it, I’m not sure, but I decided she should have a reward, a few treats.
Which obviously encouraged the behaviour.
Then, because my bedroom was too small for all the cat arrangements…(don’t ask.)
My bedroom became a spare room, a cat-free zone, and my dressing room.
Now I sleep in an “alcove”, with an assortment of cat beds and perches all around, so there is room for all.
But now the dresser was off limits and I wondered about Willow’s medication system.
Of course I need not have worried as cats are very adaptable.
When Willow sees me coming she just leads me where she wants to be administered to, and that’s that.
It’s so much better than chasing a cat around the house. I never had a cat before that actually asked to have her medicine! It is a so much better arrangement.
Tomorrow, at 0645, I shall get my second cataract removed.
Then I shall have to await the production of a pair of glasses that can match my eyes up so I don’t see double.
At the moment everything looks decidedly strange.
Maybe that is appropriate at this juncture.
But I hope it comes right soon.