I’m totally slowing down. My need for napping has reappeared and my ability to waddle about has diminished to almost nothing. I have to stop half way up the stairs to catch my breath! However, my crazy life continues at its pre-preganancy pace. I’m sure someone somewhere is having a good chuckle watching me try and keep up.
Take today. All I had to do was take the cats to the vet and go to my hospital monitoring. Two things. That’s it.
Well, the drama that is my life unfolded like so. At about 10am, I pulled out the cat boxes. My kitties are no dummies, they saw the boxes and knew what was about to happen so they ran and hid. I spend the next 20 minutes chasing them up and down stairs. It wasn’t so much of a chase really. They’d run up the stairs…I’d slowly lumber behind them…they’d run around me back down the stairs…I’d slowly lumber behing them…and so on. Once finally snatched, I spent another few minutes trying to get the hissing, scratching balls of fur through a remarkable small door. Luckily, I was bigger. (No fat pregnant jokes please, Kevin.) So I headed for the vet thinking the hard part was over. Ha!
Once there, the vet tech pulled out Wicks. She was weighed, temp taken, and given a vaccine shot. No problem. Next came fatty. Lets just say, once the cat carrier gate was open, fatty began her death moaning/hissing. We wrestled her out but when the vet tried to check her temp, fatty lost it. She did not want the thermometer in her butt. I can’t blame her, really. My hand, unfortunately, was closest to her mouth so she took a HUGE bite out of my hand. I’m talking fangs to the bone. Luckily, the vets are prepared for this kind of thing so they had an peroxide/antibacterial flush on hand I could use. But moving my left thumb is still awfully painful.
Slightly wounded and bleeding, I made my way home and spent the next hour asleep in the hammock trying to recover from the horror that is my cat. Awake and refreshed, I headed toward the hospital for my weekly monitoring of Mini-Me.
While I’m in the materity ward waiting to check in, a nurse comes running down the hallway yelling….”Can you clean her up? I’ve got to call the doctor….. she’s hemerroging!!!!” Every nurse there flew into action. I must have look very pale because one of them asked me to go into the waiting room and closed the door behind me. I watched the commotion outside for a minute or two until a bunch of people ran into the room and grabbed the phone. It was the family. They were trying desperately to find the father. I guess the mom had just checked in and he was down at the car getting the rest of their stuff. The person on the phone was sobbing, people where running all around, and then they wheeled her past us saying something about a detached uterus and checking to make sure the baby was still alive. Yikes!
Needless to say, when they set me up for the baby monitor a few minutes later, I totally failed my blood pressure test. We chalked it up to anxiety and they let me go but man alive, I’m still shaking. That was too scary for words. After that, I came home, turned on the TV and just tuned out.
Tomorrow I have another doctor appointment and a hair cut. Good thing it’s nice out. I’m going to need some serious hammock time.
