I strongly advise against sleeping on cots when one is 46 years with a bad disc.
So, yeah, what should have been a routine neutering procedure for Bodach turned into a nightmare pretty quickly. The procedure itself went perfectly fine, but then the little dipshit failed at Water Drinking 101 at home a few hours later, and aspirated a little bit of water into his lungs, which warranted a trip to the ER. Not sure exactly how he managed it, but the 2 main theories are related to med side effect (the ketamine was causing him to have some sporadic involuntary spasms for a bit) or failure to figure out how to cone of shame. Either way, he’s got some pneumonia going on, on top of everything else, and is in the office. Sadly, he’s both very much a Mama’s Boy and extremely not okay with being alone, so I’m sleeping in the office on a camp cot until we can manage a better solution, or he gets better at being by himself for a couple of hours. My back is deeply unhappy about this.
I would really like my cats to stop this run of medical issues. Tuesday’s vet bills were about as much as my entire monthly income, and I ran out of spoons weeks ago. This was supposed to be the straightforward one, not another life-threatening drama and segregated household situation. It’s a good thing they’re cute.
I would really like to have 5 minutes and a few firing brain cells to use for getting some work writing done. There’s a boggart named Rattlesack Jack that is demanding his story be told, and he’s getting really pushy about it.