When my kids were little, one of the worst things that could happen would be for me to get sick. The kids routine would be off, dishes would remain in the sink, and I'd have to beg somebody to feed the animals. The kids would stand by my bedside pitifully, hand me kleenex, while I wallowed in a feverish haze of cats and cat hair.
I've been sick since last week Friday, but the show must go on. I've continued to answer the rescue line phones, as I carefully stifled coughing fits. I've been getting lots of sleep. Gratefully, things are different as my kids are grown and I have far more help. (One of the benefits of this being Marriage #2)
I thought I was feeling so much better today, and went to the shelter with a new foster Mom who had never been there. I had forgotten that Helen liked the more mature cats, so was thrilled when she chose an adorable 3 year old tabby boy, and a HUGE (I mean REALLY REALLY HUGE) long haired 6 year old black cat. This poor guy was marked for euthanasia tomorrow. Bless her heart for taking him. He was rolling around in his cage and trying to get her attention. He was matted and smelled like his litterbox. Not a very loveable sight, but holy moly, is he sweet!
When I got home at 1:30, I literally took off my coat and fell on the sofa and slept for 90 minutes. I woke up to 3 tabbies perched on my side like they were little birds. (I was hopeful they were passing out Kleenex, but no luck) I guess I'm still sicker than I realized. Maybe it's time for an antibiotic. I hate to admit defeat - water, rest, vitamins...shouldn't that be enough?
If I were a cat, I would've taken me to the vets days ago. I guess that answers my question.