Finn is at his regular vet’s office and in the best hands. There’s hope now-something I haven’t felt in days. For 57 hours (about), I have been going through such a rollercoaster of emotions from feeling he will be OK, to praying he doesn’t die, to trying to keep it together and then falling apart. I have pushed away my friends hating to ask them for help when they have their own problems, and then running to them afraid that my world will change forever.
My feelings go from selfless and thinking only of Finn and the pain and fear he has felt over the past few days personifying this ordeal and my feelings for Polly who is missing her constant companion. Then it all switches and I get selfish hating that I have to deal with this with no partner by my side (even when I did have a partner I still dealt with things like this alone) and facing the facts that my financial future is at odds with making any kind of sense.
Through all this, I now sit feeling … ??? I ate for the first time in 48 hours and drank a bit of wine and though I am not buzzed, I am wowed that I am neither crying nor feeling giddy like I did when I knew Dr. Aimee was taking care of my little boy. It’s a deeper sense of something, but I don’t know what. I need to sleep, I need a hug, I need my baby boy back in my arms.
This not only changes my plans for the remainder of the year, it releases me from the need to control my life. I have no control. Finn’s illness proves that and since it could be an ongoing prognosis, I am left to try to just live in the moment. Good luck.
So instead of planning my trip to Spain, I learn Spanish recipes. Instead of working to open a gallery, I will hone my artistic skills and hopefully make a name and some money for myself (to pay of this brilliant bill the bad vet left me.) And instead of feeling fabulous about my new look and getting out there to find a date (which costs money), I will spend more time with my poor friends who seem to truly understand me. Wanna come?