Insanity. Just plain insanity. These past two weeks have been sheer madness and stress.
It all started on Dad's birthday, February 25. The day started off alright, other than my realizing that my knee hurt and I needed to get a knee brace before treadmilling again. Instead of grading, I decided to relax on the couch and prop my knee up so it would stop throbbing. Then, oh around about 9:30 p.m., the phone rang, and it was my mom calling from her cell phone.
"Your dad may be staying with you for a few days."
I looked around the house, which was in its typical mid-semester state of chaos. "Wait. What, tonight?"
"Yeah, we're on our way to Springfield."
"Okaa-aay. May I ask why?"
"We're headed to the hospital."
"Why is that?"
Pause. "I think I'm having a heart attack." Happy birthday, Dad.
Thus began a long night of worrying, crying, and praying, and waiting for news that didn't come because, as Dad later explained, "It was 2:00 when we got out of there. I didn't want to wake you up." No, you're right, Dad... the lifelong insomniac couldn't possibly be awake until two in the morning after hearing her mom is having a heart attack. Yeah, I was pissed. I finally gave up and fell asleep around five, five-thirty in the morning, getting a phone call three hours later. No heart attack, but there is artery blockage and need for bypass surgery sometime in the near future.
Saturday night, I put the dog outside and encouraged her to run off her excess energy. She ran and ran and ran and ran... then came up to the door, limping, tail between her legs. She'd snagged her dew claw somehow and ripped it right at the quick. By Monday, she was so uncomfortable that I ended up taking her to the vet. Oh, yeah, that was after I managed to somehow lock the storm door behind myself on the way out the door and had to call Dad to come pry the door open because my screwdriver was too small and flimsy to work as an effective lever. Anyway, I got Sassy to the vet, where the vet managed to clip the mutilated nail and the rest of her nails besides (at which point Sassy did demonstrate what an amazing dog she is by letting the doctor clip her nails without complaint, other than one understandable cry at the injured nail) and then prescribed an antibiotic to prevent infection.
As the week went on, Sassy managed to keep bumping the injury, which meant having to bandage to wound with Neosporin. She tolerated my messing with her paw, but with the air of a martyr. The other issue, which came to fruition Friday night, was that the pain destroyed her appetite. Taking antibiotics and not eating much is a recipe for disaster, and sure enough, late Friday night, a panting dog leapt off of my lap, walked two paces, and vomited all over the floor... three times in a row. I cleaned it up, moved her to the mudroom, and an hour or two later, she threw up again, deftly avoiding all the rugs and towels and hitting the carpet instead... out of desire to be helpful, I assume. By Saturday afternoon, she still was sick and unable to eat or drink, so I took her to the doggie ER. $186 (and thus the third vet visit in a month) and three shots later, we went home, Sassy sleepy from the anti-nausea meds and hydration injection, and I spent the entire weekend monitoring her every move and gradually giving her increasing amounts of fluids and food beginning the next day. Even this week, she's still on two different stomach medications to heal her belly from excess acid.
Oh, and it's conferencing week, and midterm is Friday. I have to catch up grades in two days after conferences and have midterm grades submitted by Monday morning.
I think I'm going to end up in an exhaustion coma over spring break next week.