No More Water But the Fire Next Time

This has been a sad and incredible week.

I won't talk about the election and I swear to god, I will knock the shit out of anyone who voted for Trump and has the gall to say so to my face. I am past the shock and grief stage and on into my favorite stage: Anger. Fury. I want every Trump voter to suffer when he takes office and gets rid of the ACA and they can't get insurance. I want them to go broke from having to pay out the nose for simple medical procedures. I want them to see what happens when he lets Paul Ryan privatize Medicare and suddenly people are having to explain to for-profit businesses why they need life-saving medication. I want Trump voters to starve when he cuts apart the safety net and slashes funding for all the government programs they rely on, food stamps and section 8 housing. I want them to suffer because they cared more about emails than racism or sexism. I want them to suffer when they realize that Trump lied to them and that he's not going to do a damn thing for them, that he is as contemptuous of them as he was of Mexicans and Muslims and Brown and Black people. I want them to suffer. I want them to watch the KKK march in North Carolina celebrating Trump's win and I want them to know that this is how America becomes Russia, with a despotic leader like Putin.

And that's all I'm going to say at this point. I may change my mind and find some compassion tomorrow. But today, no.

The more important thing that has been going on in our life concerns our kitty, Saba. Turns out that she doesn't have cancer at all, but a rare fungal infection. Unfortunately, the drugs we were using to treat her non-existent cancer suppressed her immune system and now the infection is pretty bad. We screwed up. We, meaning me and Dave and three veterinarians who should have known better adn didn't. However, her infection is curable with medication, which she will be on for at least 3 months.

She spent the night in the ICU last night, had a feeding tube put in and, because her red blood cells were so low, had a partial transfusion, which was terrifying and which was stopped 1/4 of the way through because she was spiking fevers and had an elevated heart rate. We brought her home today and Dave is off getting her food and medication right now. (The meds had to be made up at a compounding pharmacy and he is having to go to two different places for food. Nothing is easy.)

Saba is tough, a survivor. And last night, as we waited on pins and needles for the call from the vet, when she was spiking fevers and I worried that she might not make it, I cried with worry and stress and guilt. I finally told myself that as long as there was fight in her, we would fight. And that is what we are doing.

And that's all I have to say today.

Next time, I'll talk about school and such.