The Deed Has Been Done

 Odd random thought.  How does one get to be the sort of person that someone will show up with a casserole (or a pizza) when one is going through troubled times?  Or does that only happen in books and TV?  (But I can't complain - when I went to pick Bug up, the receptionist Meredith said she had something for me.  Gill had been by - with two homemade chocolate chip cookies and the instruction to "shove them in Ann's gob." (Meredith opted for handing them to me).

Whatever.  The last two days I've had those times where I realize that I'm hungry, but getting something to eat takes decision-making bandwidth that I just don't have.  (Fortunately, there is always the option of bread, cheese, and fruit).

The deed was done yesterday (yesterday's post was actually written on the 13th but I forgot to hit Publish).  I dropped him off early in the morning, then spent the day pacing until I got the call around 3 that the surgery was successful.

So far, so good.  He's on a boatload of painkillers and looks quite stoned.  It's a little stomach churning to see a shaved shoulder and bandage where a leg used to be.  But he still loves attention and butts my hand and stretches and purrs when I go love on him.  He seems less stressed when I'm by him - so I slept on the floor by the crate last night, with my fingers through the wire where he could rest his head on them.  I've spent most of today sitting on the floor by him, reading (and now writing this).

I'm pretty punchy.  The night before the surgery I woke up every two hours, checking the clock to see if it was time to take him in.  I paced all day yesterday.  Last night - let's just say that maybe I'm getting a little old to be sleeping on the floor.

So far, so good.  He had two long-lasting pain injections that should hold for three days - so I'm of course nervous for day four.  He'll have to be crated for two weeks, and I'm sure he'll get tired of that.

But he won't have to deal with me trying to get the bandaging off his leg and rebandage with all that blood dripping.  It felt weird the last time I did it, knowing it was the last time to bandage his leg because he wouldn't have that leg anymore.

I realized another thing I should have added to my list yesterday as to why I'm having so much trouble handling this.  I realized it's because I don't have Bob - but not for the obvious reasons.  Bob had the bigger heart of the two of us - he felt more, had bigger emotions.  In times of critter crisis, for his sake I was the one that had to keep my act together, be the strong and practical one.  I realized now that I could do that for him; I'm no so good at doing it for myself.

Enough babbling.  Tonight I'll sleep in the bed and try to get some rest.