Just Don’t Scare the Cats

I don’t know why I’m always surprised by how awful this illness can feel.  There are episodes that seem like the first time (though I don’t think this is what Bryan Adams had in mind).

Little annoyances pile up and become life-jettisoning disasters.  This morning, after fighting with my shower curtain and flooding the bathroom floor, I collapsed on the bed and bawled full-volume.  I didn’t try to stop, hoping the release would activate some mysterious brain juice.  But all it did was scare the cats.

While Emmett huddled in the corner, Henry leapt to the rescue, yowling and circling my body.  He’d pause to sniff my face, then circle again. Or pause and grumble at the window to make sure no predators attacked while I was in this weakened state.

My boys.  My old, grandpa cats.  Saving me from myself.  Again.

Eventually, I wound down and started pulling together a plan for how to get through the day.  And the boys went back to their naps.

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4 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Littlesundog
    Oct 02, 2018 @ 12:31:34

    Ya gotta love grandpa cats… or dogs. They understand.

    Reply

  2. Kiki
    Oct 03, 2018 @ 08:08:09

    Oh Sandy; I feel so sorry for you and think it must be even more unbearingly difficult for someone like you with such an outstanding mind (which is proably one of the reasons for having bipolar disorder, isn’t it?). And that collage! Oh my…..
    Thinking of you and sending you good thoughts.

    Reply

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