Word Vomit | This week… has been rough

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.

My Dear Sophie;

I guess I can use blogtober as an excuse to write more about my every day life like I want to… but never do cause well, my every day life isn’t all that interesting.

I’ve had my cat Sophie for 5 years. She was a 30th birthday/divorce gift from my mom. I stumbled on her randomly when I was roaming around PetSmart and I refused to leave the store without her. My mom and ex husband tried to talk me out of it because she was 10 years old. And they kept suggesting I get a kitten. But when people say pets choose their owners I absolutely believed it in that moment. I have no idea why I loved Sophie at first sight, but I did. I learned she had been in that adoption center for 3 years, the lady who ran the independent adoption company was so excited to hear that someone wanted to take Sophie in.

I drove from Orlando to Tampa every Wednesday for 3 weeks to visit her until I was able to save up enough money to take her home. Btw, I’m allergic to cats. And there are times when touching Sophie makes my hands swell, but she’s worth it.

Over the last 5 years we’ve moved 9 times. Between 4 cities and 2 states.

Continue reading “My Dear Sophie;”

“Time won’t wait for you,”

Something my dad constantly, as in every single morning, told me as he was waking me up for school and as I struggled to want to even be alive. And despite how frustrated I made him, he never yelled or got overly mad.

But this is something that has stuck with me my whole life.

It might had contributed to what I call my White Rabbit Syndrome where I feel like I’m constantly racing against time. WHO KNOWS.

The last time I saw my dad; Dec 2013

Today marks one year since my dad passed away after a 8 year battle with Cancer. Whew, counting that blew my mind. While death from Cancer is never a positive outcome, obviously, he was lucky to had lived that long. My dad had his own anxieties that showed up when I was really young. He was obsessed with the fact that he was dying long before he was even diagnosed with Cancer and that was hard to deal with since he’d use it as a reason against an argument or that “I don’t feel good, I might be dying, I don’t know,” I almost feel like being diagnosed brought him some sort of weird anxiety relief.

And at first, it didn’t see so bad. He had radiation therapy and he was constantly sick but it wasn’t anything that seemed like it would disrupt how our lives were normally lived. So I’ll admit that for the first few years it was hard to imagine there was Cancer because nothing really changed. He wasn’t losing hair or weight or anything. A year after he was diagnosed I got my job back at Disney World so in 2013 I moved back to Florida. We came back to visit that December. In October it was my dad who called and told me that my dog passed away. So to be there without him that year was really hard for me.

I never went back after that. I never saw my dad after that.

And that will always be the hardest thing to swallow.

Continue reading ““Time won’t wait for you,””

“Make sure you take care of yourself,”

It’s officially been a year since the last time my dad called.

A year since the last time I heard his voice.

And it’s so hard to write this. I feel like my chest is going to cave in. The phone call was only about 4 mins long. I still have the call logged on my phone and I make sure it doesn’t get pushed off.

I use to get so annoyed when my dad called. Cause he’d always say the same thing. But he did also always ask how I was doing, I just hated telling him if something was wrong cause he was a massive worrier. I firmly believe if he was still here during this pandemic he would lose his shit. So I would dread picking up the phone.

And of course now that he’s gone I regret every single time I didn’t want to pick up the phone.

The thing about his passing is that from where I am it looked like it was something that happened overnight. My dad was constantly telling me he was “fine, just tired.” and suddenly he wasn’t okay and a few days later he was gone. Just like that. To my mom and brother it wasn’t overnight, but they were there with him. I wasn’t able to go to his funeral cause I had no idea he was having one until the day of.

My dad knows flying is painful for me (doesn’t stop me from flying and wouldn’t had stopped me from going to his funeral had I known about it) and that Tums was too small to fly yet. He was always worried that Tums might have what I have but tbh I messed up my own tissues.

Long story short: I stuck a peanut up my nose too far (my mom is an RN and I wouldn’t eat a lot as a kid and she said if I didn’t start eating she was going to feed me through my nose like her patients. She failed to mention WITH A TUBE.) so my mom had to take me to the hospital where they had to remove it. And in the process I had somehow messed up some tissue in that area. I was suppose to have surgery to fix it as a kid but that never happened. It just feels like my left ear specifically is going to burst out of my head when the plane lands, no biggie. Sometimes I can manage to “keep pressure out of it” and it won’t hurt as bad when the plane lands… but you know what, this is meant for another blog post.

So that’s why I wasn’t told about his funeral; because he didn’t want me or Tums to have to deal with that. But in exchange, I still haven’t said my goodbye’s. I still haven’t come to terms with the fact he’s gone and sometimes I’ll even forget. And think it’s been awhile since I texted him a photo of Tums (he LOVED getting photos and videos of Tums every single day); and I’ll remember he’s gone and it’s like that day all over again.

I’m seriously surprised I haven’t burst into tears yet writing this.

His death anniversary is coming up and I honestly don’t know how I’m not gonna lose my shit that day. August suddenly has become really really hard.

Sorry there isn’t any photos or anything, I just really needed to write.

“Never mind that, just make sure you take care of yourself,”