The last few days have been a bit irksome. My son has tick fever, all his blood counts are messed up, so there were some trips to the vet, and much disquiet. And I think the vet made us agree to an expensive test, the PCR, that, in this case was not necessary. Then yesterday I had a bit of a stumble myself, throwing up, body aches, fatigue, and in this era of human civilisation. Today I am in the pink and my son is good too, though he’s a bit sick of the medicines I’m shoving down his throat, all is well.
When I get sick or am emotionally disturbed, the little one that empathises the most is my baby girl, Marla. An absolutely ridiculous 20 toed Rottweiler and very topsy turvy in every other way, she feels me like no other. Yesterday, I had some hours to teach, which I did from bed, the little angel was with me the whole time, it was only towards the evening when I was more my unmanageable self, after losing two chess games in a row to my music partner, that she let me be on my own.
We didn’t think Marla would ever make it to her first birthday. She contracted parvovirus infection, when she was 6 months old, an infection that has a 90% mortality in puppies. I remember coming home from work, it was around 8 PM, Light and Marla, two tiny creatures and 4 huge eyes were always there to meet me at the door. But this time Marla was not there. She was lying on her rug and started wagging her tail when she saw me. And she was not hungry. I was immediately concerned, by morning I was panicking, she was listless, puppies and children are so delicate, the margin for error is so small. Then followed the longest two weeks of our lives (my parents had fallen in love with the puppies by this time and supported me in every possible way). I was also lucky to have one of the dearest people I know constantly by my side and helping out, with emergency trips to the doctor, staying awake at night watching over Marla, driving me to the wine store.
It was nice being sick yesterday, reminded me of those many times when I was too high, detesting myself, unable to walk, managing to get to the washroom to lie there throwing up. I don’t ever want to be there again.