fatrockstar

«What's the matter?»
I'm just sad.
«Sad? I don't understand.»
I'm sad because I miss you. It's not the same without you here.
«But I'm with you now. I always will be, just without tuna.»
Yeah, that... I can't do tuna anymore because it reminds me of you.
«Your loss.»
Don't be cruel.
«I still don't understand. I'm with you like I always have been. My body was a formality - you needed me to be tangible, so I was.»
...
«Do what you have to. Would it make you feel any better if I went away?»
No, don't. It will take a while for me to process this. I feel a little ridiculous for mourning at all. It was the right thing to do but I feel horrible anyway, like I failed you.
«I'm not complaining. The body failed me, not you. I can't leave anyway. Where would I go?»
You were so young... I never got a chance to--
«to what --give me tuna? ::purrs:: Truly the highlight of my decline...»
I miss you, Grady.
«I know.»
I can hardly function.
«That will pass. I'm always with you, always a part of you. Find a warm spot and take a nap. Enjoy new smells. Ask questions. Stay clean. Oh, and one more thing..»
What's that?
«Thanks for all the tuna. It was awesome.»

Yesterday I arrived at work to find a card addressed to Grady on my desk. It contained well wishes and a large sum of cash, but no signature. I am immensely grateful for the windfall, but I wish I knew who to thank. The anonymous nature of the gift leads me to assume that it was someone who knew me. I usually don't receive such large gifts comfortably even though they are greatly appreciated. Whoever you are, thank you!

Later the same day a man came by my office, introduced himself, and contributed his own sum to the Grady fund. I am touched by his generosity. Grady doesn't realize it, but he is touched, too. Thank you, Don, for your donation!

Both of these donations took a huge chunk out of Grady's hospital bill, which was a little larger than the estimate.

After work I went to SVS to pick up Grady and get a primer on how to take care of him and his feeding tube. They gave me a LOT of stuff, including extra syringes, stoppers, gauze, and antiseptic. Grady did not want to sit still for the demonstration of what went where. I couldn't tell if that was the process or the environment.

I got home and Ethan & Tristan were there having dinner. Ethan's parrot, Flea, was hanging out as well. In an attempt to feed Grady in a cleanup-friendly environment I brought him into the dining room, but that proved to be a poor choice. There was too much activity and noise going on in there for it to go well, PLUS I had not prepared anything in advance like I probably should have. It was like trying to thread a needle with a sack of wet hamsters in your arms. Not fun. Grady got sick in response, so I put him in a quiet bedroom to calm down before trying again. The next attempt went a little easier.

Even though I had set up a nook for him to hide in, he decided he was happier under the bed. I don't like dragging him out from under there, but I did this morning to change his dressings and see how he was doing. He was very wiggly during that. Note to self: Have even more of the materials ready-to-go when changing the dressing next time. Once calm, I gave him his meds without incident. He practically napped through the whole thing. Same with the feeding an hour later. If he's calm, things go okay. If he's held, he will protest. We're not out of the woods yet.

I must have checked on him one too many times this morning, because after his post-breakfast feeding he moved to a box in the corner of the music room to hide. We have an agreement that I don't mess with him there. He is safe until I have to feed him again.

I still have hope. Next week I will have the house to myself for several days while Ethan is in Hawai'i for a songwriting conference. Keep your fingers crossed that most of his improvement will be during that time.

The force-feeding is getting easier. He still puts up a fight, don't get me wrong, but now he and I have an understanding. He eats enough and I let him take a break every few attempts. More successful attempts = more breaks.

Wednesday I take him to the vet for a feeding tube and possibly an ultrasound. He won't be happy about it, and I'm sure to have my punishment extended for it, but that's too bad. I want my little buddy well again.

While he hides under the bed I work on my thank yous. It's a little more rewarding than Bejeweled right now. Here is a sneak peek of what they're made of. It's almost like they're watching you, no?

Dear Anonymous,

Thank you for your gift -- I received it in my mailbox on Saturday, and by the postmark it looks like you had just mailed it the day before. I don't get my mail very often because I tend to forget and misplace the key, but I am glad I did then. Another day or two and my mail carrier might have lost patience with trying to find space for new things.

I got the impression from the method of delivery and lack of personal information anywhere on the envelope, card, or check that you wish to remain nameless. I will respect this, but hope you understand that I wish I could thank you properly either in person or by note. Who could blame me? I have not seen this kind of generosity in ages, and it could not have come at a better time. You have not only helped me with two big and unexpected bills, but have also given me a means to visit my family at Christmas.

It's been a tough year, Anonymous. Your gift brought tears to my eyes and lifted a weight from my weary shoulders. I cannot thank you enough. Not just for your generosity, but for thinking of me. It means more than you could ever know.

Love,
Wynne