On Mother’s Day the hubs went to the ER and got tested for COVID which came back positive. They gave him some medicine and an inhaler. He also picked up some Vit C which I’ve been popping like a mf because 1) they’re yummy and 2) everyone and their mama has been telling me to pretty much OD on Vit C. Thankfully I had minor symptoms, and most of them became the worst at night. Bubba however probably had the worst of it. Between coughing, struggling to breathe and a fever. He literally spent about 2 weeks doing nothing but laying around watching KDrama and coughing his soul out bit by bit. I only had a low grade fever, body aches and a migraine for a day then for 3 days after I had this weird ass dizziness that felt like my soul was trying to ditch my body. And now on day 6 I’ve lost some of my sense of taste but other than that I feel 90% better. Granted I didn’t feel horrible by any means. I’m still pissed at the people who claim surviving COVID is 98% chance. Because sure, some people survive but at what cost. I can see how this virus can fuck with your organs and your lungs. I would much rather have a few days of side effects from a vaccine than weeks of not knowing how you’re gonna feel from one hour to the next.
Def could had went the rest of my life not catching COVID. Bubba said he might had got it from a co-worker so there was sort of no way around that.
This passed week Sophie had been acting weirder than usual. She was constantly crying day and night and she wouldn’t eat her medicated food. Her eyesight was in and out and it was just horrible to witness. She had a mass in one of her eyes growing last Oct, we were told that they weren’t going to remove it because of her age and her kidney failure, it might had done more damage than good. On Friday she was struggling to breathe and just laid there. It was pretty obvious she wasn’t going to make it much longer. I tried my best to stay with her as long as I could before I had to go to bed since I was still feeling sick — the whole fuckin thing just sucked.
By the time Bubba woke up the next morning she was gone. As long we knew this day would come, nothing really prepares you for death of any kind. I feel so numb. Sophie was a birthday gift from my mom the year of my divorce. She was 10. She had been at the adoption center for 3 years waiting for a home. Despite knowing she was an older cat I told myself I wanted to give her a life of love for however longer she had left. It’s been 6 years.
And in that 6 years we had an adventure of happiness, trauma and sadness. Through it all, she would sit with me when I did dishes, when I felt sick, when I was angry. She was the sweetest cat. She never once bit anyone. It didn’t matter how you pestered her, she would never ever bite anyone (except me but she’d lick where she bit after she did). She was patient with Tums and would follow her around. I don’t know if Tums notices she’s gone yet — but it does feel a little bit more empty and quiet without Sophie.
I can feel my mind blocking off certain thoughts; the reality of what losing Sophie means.
I’m suppose to be catching up on things today and for the first time in a long time I just… don’t feel like blogging. I know I’m suppose to give myself time to grieve. But I don’t even know if I want to let myself.