I'm starting a DIET on January 1st. It's so cliche. And I've already told my husband and now I've told my 8 readers and I'm pretty much now doomed to fail.
Or, maybe not. I want to write more about that too. Lots more, hopefully like months and months worth. That would be great. Back to my roots.
We hosted our annual Christmas party at our house on Saturday night. I noticed while I was getting ready that Fox (the cat) was sleeping on the sofa and not following his usual routine (mostly following me around getting in my way) and the party started and he was still asleep on the sofa with people pouring in. Finally I saw him walking across the room and he was limping. We had a cat named Bella who started limping one day that turned into radial nerve damage and she ended up dragging both her legs behind her if she ever came out from under the bed. We ended up having to put her to sleep when kept continuing to lose use of her legs, her front one was starting to go and she would not leave under the bed to even eat. The other cats were ganging up on her, it was just a very awful experience all around.
Fox is my favorite cat and I can't even begin to describe to you the fear and panic that set in when I saw him limping across the floor. Brian made me wait until the party was over (it was agony) and then we took Fox to the emergency vet (still our vet, he will come in after hours for emergencies). Fox had a bad fever and the vet was certain it was a cat bite. I found a mark on his lower back that the vet shaved and cleaned but we never found anything on his leg. The vet gave him a antibiotic injection, an injection to reduce his fever, and gave him some fluids. Fox was no longer limping the next day but walks a little woozy when he first gets up. I took him back to the vet on Monday and his fever was back to normal, his sore looked like it was healing, and he examined his legs closer for injury (nothing was found).
We aren't sure if he was bit by one of our cats, perhaps Andy in their crazy daily tussles that went too far or he got out on Friday night for about 1/2 hour before we noticed he was missing, maybe something happened then. I was raining that night but Fox looked extra "rough" when we got him back inside.
Last night we went to a surprise birthday party and we were talking to this couple who was about our age. They thought Brian was kidding about us living in the hood. At one point the woman turned to me and asked if we had kids. This is a common question. I do find it funny that it was the first question directly straight at me and while my mind fills up with the 1000s of infertility experiences I've gone through I have to answer, "no," with no sense of sadness and despair or feeling like a leper or a weirdo. It's harder than it looks. I'm lucky I don't drink because that answer would have filled her ears with a personal history of my infertility. "First I had an hour long internal ultrasound, then I had an MRI with IV dye, then they cut open my stomach, and cut out all the fibroids on my uterus, my recovery nurse was mean to me and I'll never forget her as long as I live, then I had an HSG in front of 6 people that hurt like a motherfucker, then I had an SHG, then I had 10 IUIs. I gave myself shots in the stomach, one day I gave myself 3 shots in the stomach in one day! Then a lot of time passed and I wondered if my fibroids came back so I opted for another HSG that also hurt but all was clear. Then I was told I'm a poor responder, and donor egg would be my best chance, even that wasn't guaranteed and it would have to be in New Jersey and we can't afford it anyway. Adoption is too expensive too. Foster parenting is out of the question because I have attachment issues because I come from a broken home, being attached and ultimately separated from a baby that would go back to a parent that abuses him and takes drugs would probably kill me at this point, probably at any point, actually... So, how many kids do you have?"
And when I say, "no," with all the enthusiasm and confidence I can muster up from inside of me, the woman always does the same thing, every. single. time. she turns away and the conversation is over. It's like she's lost all sense of ever being able to connect with me so why bother. So each and every time my confidence gets hit in the stomach in anticipation of the head turn away from me. It's so sad, I wish mothers knew they did this to women without kids. Certainly we are all more than our offspring. Certainly you have more, anything else to say about life than your kids.
So, do you have any cats?