6th Avenue heartache...

My BABY...my kitty. Minette. This morning Sonny went down into the basement (where for the sake of our carpets and new loveseat, we must keep the girls) and found a bloody stool in her litter box. I'm out of it. In a slight shock. This afternoon I looked up some vets in the area and scheduled an appointment for her, Monday.

This will be the second loved one in a month who's been rushed to the hospital. My mom about 3 weeks ago landed in the emergency room with very unusual symptoms. She couldn't breathe, and she kept vomiting. She was dizzy as hell, and the medics were very heavy handed with her...pounding on her chest at one point to prevent something for collapsing in there. I only found out about it after she had already been in the hospital for a day . It disturbed me very much, but she recovered quickly with rest and a few doses of her beloved hospital food (she really does love the stuff). To date, they haven't found the cause of it...which does little to comfort me. I'm fucking 500 miles away...There's nothing I can do, I know. But it still bothers me. Ma's been epileptic since I was 10 years old. As you can imagine I learned very quickly how to administer her medication and how to prevent her from hurting herself during her fits. I've always been protective of her... ::gosh::

I've got to think of something else for a little bit... Someone told me the other day that the trouble with me is that I'm "untrusting". I laughed out loud. Reread the message and laughed again. If anything, the trouble with me is that I'm too trusting. I want to believe the best about everyone. I'm prone to bouts of hysteria and delusion, during which I actually expect a "friend" to *gasp* keep a promise! I hope I haven't given anyone the idea that I'm a grouchy bitch who's looking to blame the world for what is probably self-imposed isolation. No. That's not what I want anyone to swallow. My gripe is with the people I do know. I don't expect a friend to plummet from the clouds and into my lap. Or even move right next door to me. The work that goes into any friendship is extensive, perpetual and not to mention, important. I know all this. But my policy is (and always has been) to know where you stand. Having identified your "proper place" you can either stay there or keep on truckin. I've never had any qualms about moving on. Call it a balance to my sensative side. My soul's self-preservation button. The only way I've weathered the ups and downs of getting-to-know-you. It's how I survived many a storm. Still. . .

?tienes espacio debajo de ese paraguas para mí?