Today is my wedding anniversary to my husband of 2 years. At the moment we are in two different countries, and when the clock strikes 12 noon, I am going to celebrate by popping my first Prozac in 8 years.
On March 13, 2010, I celebrated my marriage in a lovely old manor house in the English countryside. The weather was lovely, chilly but crisp. Blue skies with sheep meh-eh-eh-ehing in the background. Everyone was dressed up, the flowers my friend created were beautiful. The 5 tier wedding cake I handmade for weeks came out perfect. It should have been perfect, it was perfect, apart from the way I was feeling. Words such as foggy and numb comes to mind. I can hardly remember anything from the moment I walked down the aisle. It's almost like my mind had switched to a different schizophrenic personality and I had woken up from all of it not knowing what happened.
I thought it was just wedding jitters but looking back, my personality 1 must have been screaming "Noooo, don't do it!". Well, I did and here I am popping anti-depressants while reading over and over again the (lack of) email from my husband titled "Happy Anniversary" wondering where the contents of the email, words such as I love you, you're the best thing that ever came in to my life, sappy cliche of sentences I used to get on a daily basis, had gone. There wasn't even a "Love from your husband xoxo"...We have not spoken in 2 weeks.
Mind you, I'm not the only one I know who needs to support the big pharma's billion dollar industry. My best friend has been popping pills since her pregnancy. My other friend goes natural and gets stoned everyday. Another one does both. I'm sure there are many others out there who has tried everything, Prozac, Zoloft, Valium, you name it. However, as we all know popping pills only treats the symptoms but as long as we don't eliminate the cause, the problem will never go away.
I met this woman the other day who is going through a divorce because her husband of many years left her for another woman. She said "Women are so stupid, we just keep hoping." It's so sad, but so true as well. So, to the ladies everywhere who has decided to keep hoping when we know deep inside that things will not get better, I'd like to raise my cocktail of anti-depressants for a toast; to life long unhappiness and wishful thinking!
Monday, March 12, 2012
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
The waiting game
I have not written for a long time. Life has been a roller-coster ride, most of the time going downhill.
It's nearly eight thirty in the morning and I haven't slept. I've just flown back from the UK yesterday given a day's notice. My old gal FiFi is not doing well. She had been vomiting and had not been eating or drinking for 2 days on the 27th when my mother called. Even before that, since coming back from boarding at my friend's house she hasn't been eating or drinking much. It's now March 1st and apart for the little food I had forced into her mouth, she has not eaten and I am afraid how this is affecting her liver. I took her to the vet on the 28th, ran a blood test yesterday morning and discovered that she has been infected with Feline Leukimia and on top of that she has a secondary infection and is in critical condition. He TP, BUN and CRE are really high, as is her white blood count. The Vet said she might not make it and even if she does make it, she may not live for very long because she is so old. Now I am just waiting for her to stablise so that we can run more tests.
I'm crushed. I cried all afternoon until I fell asleep. I cried again when the nurses wheeled my baby out with her IV fluids. I'm crying again as I am writing this. I am upset, angry, guilty, fustrated. Most of all, I am sad, very sad.I keep getting flashes of the past with my cat, how I found her in a paper box as a little kitten without her eyes open, how her pee seeped through the box and onto my school uniform after I had snuck her onto the bus, how I ran home from school everyday so that I could satisfy her hunger with the bottle, the time when she jumped onto the shelf while I was sleeping and knocked a heavy sand-filled bottle onto my head...she celebrated with me on my birthdays, she burned the mid-night oil with me throughout my A levels and Uni, she moped around with me during my breakups, moved houses with me, consoled me when my family had me down...
She is just a kitty, but she is a kitty that really loves me.
I don't understand, I took her to the vet on the 7th Feb, she had a blood test. Took her again on the 24th Feb. Nothing had been done. Why didn't the vet insist on the FeLV earlier? And why did the clinic keep changing vets, so that every visit is a different guy who didn't know the history? If something had been done earlier, she wouldn't be in the state she is now! My heart bleeds to see my baby in the kennel, as she looks at me with pain in her eyes as if she is saying "why are you doing this to me?"
All I can do is believe that she will get better and pray for her to fight for her life.
It's nearly eight thirty in the morning and I haven't slept. I've just flown back from the UK yesterday given a day's notice. My old gal FiFi is not doing well. She had been vomiting and had not been eating or drinking for 2 days on the 27th when my mother called. Even before that, since coming back from boarding at my friend's house she hasn't been eating or drinking much. It's now March 1st and apart for the little food I had forced into her mouth, she has not eaten and I am afraid how this is affecting her liver. I took her to the vet on the 28th, ran a blood test yesterday morning and discovered that she has been infected with Feline Leukimia and on top of that she has a secondary infection and is in critical condition. He TP, BUN and CRE are really high, as is her white blood count. The Vet said she might not make it and even if she does make it, she may not live for very long because she is so old. Now I am just waiting for her to stablise so that we can run more tests.
I'm crushed. I cried all afternoon until I fell asleep. I cried again when the nurses wheeled my baby out with her IV fluids. I'm crying again as I am writing this. I am upset, angry, guilty, fustrated. Most of all, I am sad, very sad.I keep getting flashes of the past with my cat, how I found her in a paper box as a little kitten without her eyes open, how her pee seeped through the box and onto my school uniform after I had snuck her onto the bus, how I ran home from school everyday so that I could satisfy her hunger with the bottle, the time when she jumped onto the shelf while I was sleeping and knocked a heavy sand-filled bottle onto my head...she celebrated with me on my birthdays, she burned the mid-night oil with me throughout my A levels and Uni, she moped around with me during my breakups, moved houses with me, consoled me when my family had me down...
She is just a kitty, but she is a kitty that really loves me.
I don't understand, I took her to the vet on the 7th Feb, she had a blood test. Took her again on the 24th Feb. Nothing had been done. Why didn't the vet insist on the FeLV earlier? And why did the clinic keep changing vets, so that every visit is a different guy who didn't know the history? If something had been done earlier, she wouldn't be in the state she is now! My heart bleeds to see my baby in the kennel, as she looks at me with pain in her eyes as if she is saying "why are you doing this to me?"
All I can do is believe that she will get better and pray for her to fight for her life.
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