Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Listen, Act.

I pulled out rice last night to go with the spicy smell of chili and sweet warm corn bread. The kitchen seemed wrapped up in that wintery cozy feel I love. I have been trying to capture that this week. My feelings of loss settling in, ebbing and flowing, I know this too shall pass. I have spent the past few days trying to nurture both the little people and the sweet doe eyed black dog that remains.

It was the rice I bought to give to Santana when he refused to eat his regular food. The same rice he threw up three days later, his body already shutting down on him unbeknownst to us.

Missy said “Mommy that is the rice you gave Santana.” She is so three.

“Yes, it is. You are right. It was supposed to help his tummy but it did not.”

“He ate it all down then throwed it all back up. He rolled over and did this.” She waggled her arms.

I turned around completely to stare at her, my jaw hanging low, the low pitch of pain and sadness returning. “Wait. Tell me what you saw Missy?”

When Santana threw up on New Year’s Day, Sunday, the boys were in back watching some ballgame. Missy was watching a show and I was making a meal or cleaning up from a meal. Missy was the only one that saw what happened. I know there was a loud “rumble and bump sound” like Santana fell over or something but I just assumed his throwing up was so violent that it surprised him and he jumped up. I actually ran to see what happened it was that loud.

Missy proceeded to tell me the story.

Missy said he was lying down quietly then he jumped up, “throwed up all over da place”, then (and she acted this part out) she said he rolled over on his back and started to twitch. By the time I ran over there he was just laying his side looking at me and the look was one of ‘HELP ME’. I yelled with a panicked note in my voice for K to come help clean up, but the real thing, the thing I have not mentioned to anyone, not even K, was that I was scared out of my mind, the reason for the panicked note in my voice. I knew it was not right. I knew he was really not going to make it at that point. No being can hold food in their stomach for three days and throw it up like he did, undigested and smelling so foul. Had I know about the twitching episode after he threw up, that might have been a game changer. Maybe not… who knows…

I regret a lot of things about what went down with Santana last weekend. I have prayed (I know… strike me down) about this. I promised myself going forward, yet again, like a running headlong into a brick wall, which I NEED to listen to my head and heart when they are screaming at me to take action. For two full days, my head and heart were screaming ‘CALL THE EMERGENCY VET RIGHT FUCKING NOW’ even through K was saying he will be okay and we both knew he was not.

This is not the first time in my life this has happened in recent years. This is the worst most difficult pill to swallow to learn this lesson.

I need to listen better and act.
I need to listen better and act.
I need to listen better and act.
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