I had a massive headache for five days. I had balance problems for two days, getting consistently worse. I fell three times in two days. The last time, I had a seizure. That I was conscious for the beginning of, when I started convulsing. Ended up in rescue to the ER without quite understanding what happened. And without my dog for like an hour. I'm home now, and terrified I'm going to have another one.
I have a large, screened in back porch where we keep the cats. I was heading out to meet some friends at Olive Garden for lunch and saw something pink on one of the cat's tail (Ansnom's cat, specifically). Checked it out and it is a spot over the size of a silver dollar right at the base of his tail that is hamburger raw and one part is even like a hole or something you can see under a flap, I don't know, I didn't mess with it much for fear of hurting him.
Knowing we'd never get into the Humane Society this quickly, we took him to the vet down the road (which I really don't particularly like anyways). They inspected it and told us it was a bad wound that was going to require surgery to get off the necrotic skin (how the unicorns we didn't notice the wound before now is BEYOND me if it's necrotic, I just don't know). 800+ dollars that we don't have. So we paid the 75 for the office visit and the antibiotics they gave us, and took him home.
Momma called the Humane Society and they said they'd charge 40 bucks for an appointment and check it out, see what they could do and quote us some. Said there's a possibility they could just amputate his tail and that would be cheaper and easier on everyone.
So now until Monday the poor thing is stuck in my bathroom to keep him away from the other cats and such.
I think everyone knows I have some serious emotional problems (that are relatively under control now). I have been hospitalized for it twice. For awhile, while trying hard to be 'normal' again, Linkin Park's "Breaking the Habit" was something I closely identified with.
I'm sure you've heard by now that Chester Bennington committed suicide. I didn't even know his name until he died, but it's wrecking me pretty hard. Someone who was able to help me lift up was beaten too far down to keep going.
I shouldn't be as tore up as I am; I barely knew who he was, I only liked the music. But man.. it hurts. Reminds me of when I was in really bad shape and I was hurting all of the people around me.