09 April, 2011

A bad situation gets worse, and worse, and worse . . .

09 April, 2011
383

R. Linda:

WELL! Here we go -- why I haven't written lately. About a week ago, my father-in-law had hand surgery. He was home for two days when he started to feel poorly. Within the day he was rushed to hospital with a high fever and pain in his stomach. Seems the antibiotics he was given "ate" the "good" bacteria in his colon and the gastric trouble started. So they hooked him up to an IV and fed him cultures to get the "good" bacteria to grow back in the colon. He lost a lot of weight and was very weak but finally started to improve after three days. The doctors kept him until today when they let him go home, still weak, very hungry for real food, but better than the misery of the week before. How's the hand? I've not a clue, but the tum be better.

So what was me job during all this? I knew you would ask that, so here it be. I went to Jersey with the wife and the two kiddos leaving the dogs and cat to neighbour Lois. As you can imagine upon arrival the Dragon-in-law was out the door as soon as we pulled up, and in the arms of daughter Tonya, weeping and saying how glad she was that Tonya was there and oh, the two sweet children. Yup nothing about me. Like gee thanks Gabe for the support, for driving all the way down here, taking off work, etc. No, nothing, notta word.

Soon after Dragon was dragging Tonya out the door so they could go visit Abdullah, Sr. in the hospital and, I was to stay at the house and watch cartoons with the boyos, AND would I take the small dog (toney Tony) out every two hours because the dog was old, and it had to go often. Oh sure, was there anything else she needed. Well, yes there was, take the big dog (which is also old, out every four hours at least) and "Gabriel, you must lift him and take him out the back, put him down, he'll do his business, when he's done, lift him back up and bring him inside and put him down." I know you're wondering about this lifting business, seems the dog be crippled with arthritis and can't walk, so what I wanted to know, is who lifts that dog, the husband? But how can he with a bad hand? I dunno, but this fell to me, BUT WAIT, it wasn't over, would I also see the cat gets fed by putting a little food on me finger and then "gently try to rub it into her mouth, then she'll eat on her own. She needs a kick start sort of."

OMG. I wanted to get into me motor and drive me and the boyos home. I did not know I was a one-man pet-sitting service.

So I took yippy toney Tony out every two hours and I lifted Big Dawg (yes, that's its name) and he had to weigh 130 lbs. through the kitchen, out to the deck, down the deck stairs to the yard. Put him down, wait while he looked at me with those great sad eyes and then finally, he'd relieve himself, and up I'd haul him up the stairs, over the deck, back inside the kitchen and down in the hall. Oi! The cat was all over me and you know I don't like cats, but that changed with me first attempt at feeding her. As soon as I had that sticky, gooey cat food on me finger she took off under the couch, she knew what was coming. I had to crawl on hands and knees and I got stuck under the couch with a growling, hissing cat while the boys laughed finding it great fun to swat me with pillows on me arse that was sticking up from the couch. Yes, indeed, what fun I have. NOT.

And, that stupid cat, once you got that stuff smeared on her face, was like, "Yum, I'll have some of that," and off she'd go tail in the air (the arrogant thing), and eat the plate clean. I was wondering how this ritual started. And she will not eat unless you go crawling around after her.

That night Tonya slept with Dragon, who didn't want to be alone, and the boyos were doubled up in one of the guest rooms and I got the other one. I was asked to continue taking toney Tony out every two hours because Dragon was just so darned tired and me wife was all comforting her, so I had no choice, but to go out at 12:30, then again at 2:20, and again at 4:30 and you get the picture. BUT sometime around 6:30 I was too tired to get up and had a dream that I was wading through the ocean surf which I could actually hear (the house is on the beach) and the water was warm and . . . I woke up to toney Tony having pissed on the bed where he was sleeping next to me! I had no clue he was even in me bed. I was horrified I was. I was soaked in dog piss! I was very unhappy.

There was no need to take toney Tony out now was there? So I ended up doing wash and sleeping on the couch until 8:30 when I had to go take that stupid mutt for its walk. So this was me life in between the patient reports and changing nappies finding Sponge Bob on the telly, fixing food and snacks and generally answering the phone! Then on Sunday night, I noticed that Big Dawg was not eating, and seemed like he was having problems. When Dragon came home I mentioned it and she said, "Oh, I knew this would happen, the vet told me. You'll have to take him over there and have him put down." Big sigh.

I have to do WHAT? No, not me animal, and not me thing, but Tonya was saying to me, "You can't let that dog suffer, we can't do it, we have to see dad!" I got no sleep Sunday night. And Monday morning I went to the vet and the vet was telling me that, "Yeah, poor old guy, he's reached the end, can't let him go on he's in a lot of pain and there is nothing more we can do." So there I was, I stayed until the end. Was sad, but I was seething some inside at being the one to have to do the deed. Now I was depressed even more than from lack of sleep and the heaping on of unwanted stress.

So Monday was a boo hoo day, everyone cried, and I walked toney Tony and made meself a true enemy of the cat. I will say neither animal wanted anything to do with me. They looked at me like, "What did you do with BIG? Huh?" Well, Tuesday I noticed the cat be covered in blood. I was like what's THIS now? I showed Dragon before she left that there was blood everywhere and she ordered me to pack up Puss and go to the vet. FOR JOI! Yup, so I get there, they say it looks like the wart has grown. WART? What wart? Cats get warts? Well, there is a wart but there's so much fur you can't see it unless you attempt to pet the cat and that isn't a good thing because it bites! They take a biopsy and tell me they will keep the cat and remove the wart and call me later. Great! Just great.

So Monday afternoon they told me to come pick up the cat, but the wart be cancerous, so the cat be terminal. OH LOVELY! Can I go home now? So I get the cat, who be pissed at me, and I tell Dragon and she says, "You don't have any luck do you?" I was like -- is this news? These are not my animals and I be feeling very put upon to be Mr. Black. Not a role I wanted, but there I was. So all Monday while the cat is being operated on toney Tony has now decided I've got rid of the cat and the other dog, and he isn't coming near me. Every time I'd approach him with the leash to go out, he'd cower and whimper and that made me feel really bad.

On Wednesday we were to leave, but Tonya decided to stay the week. I gathered up the boys and drove home. She'll fly in tomorrow. I've been trying to balance me own household without the wife and it's been tough going, but I have managed. With the daddy-in-law coming home today I be looking forward to Tonya's arrival tomorrow so I can collapse. So that's what I've been doing and why I haven't been writing. SIGH.

Gabe
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3 comments:

mobit22 said...

add the music and this story will be complete.LOL

Gabriel O'Sullivan said...

What music?

mobit22 said...

BENNY HILL!!