A day in limbo

 

Sophie waiting for company on the patio.
We had our first patio gathering tonight.

This morning before I was even out of bed, the vet called with not-so-good news. Sophie’s kidneys were failing. He didn’t sound hopeful, but he said we would give her the morning and see how she did. He’d call back mid-day. So I piddled—read emails, read Facebook, answered a bit of correspondence, but all thoughts of creative work fled. I was watching the clock and wondering what his idea of mid-day was. I think I was a case study in suspended animation.

My kids rallied around, as they always do when I need them. Colin, skiing with his family in Wolf Creek, Colorado, has called three times and been very supportive. I guess the best thing he said to me was, “You’re always tough about the big things.” And this, I agreed, was a big thing. Megan, packing up her family in Tahoe to head home, called, and Jamie called from Denver and tried to cheer me with made-up Biblical quotes. I love them for trying, but talking to them made me teary. I was better off when I didn’t talk about Sophie.

Dr. Burney called around two o’clock. No change. She was still lethargic, not interested in food, not interested in peeing, kind of mentally sluggish as well as physically. But he didn’t sound ready to give up. When I said, “She was my miracle baby,” he said, “Oh, I know. Mine two.” So we decided to give her the afternoon. He called about five-thirty, and we agreed to give her until morning. Are we postponing the inevitable? Maybe. One thought I had was that whether or not Soph took advantage of the day, it had been a help to me, allowed me a chance to collect myself and face what lies ahead. I sent her a telepathic message this morning, told her it was up to her—she either had to turn it around or shut it down, but she had to save me from making the decision. Dr. Burney said he was sure she got the message, but he would repeat it to her. I love that man.

So we are still in limbo. I think tomorrow morning, no matter which way it goes, Jordan and I will go to the veterinary clinic and see her. When she was so sick a year ago, Dr. Burney warned me that she would be mad at me, because she thought whatever happened to her was my doing. And boy, was he right. She wouldn’t come near me. So that worries me a bit about going to see her. Jordan thinks seeing us will give her a boost. I am not sure.

And to pile complication on complication: Jacob has tested positive for Covid. He’s just home from a three-day fishing/swimming/hanging out trip to Oklahoma with three buddies. Called his mom at lunch and said he couldn’t taste his Chick Filet. (In my opinion that’s a good thing—I boycott Chick Filet, but he loves it and I can’t appeal to his teenage hunger on moral grounds). So when he got home, he tested positive. So now he’s bummed, because he can’t hang out with his buddies during his senior year spring break, and he can’t work to earn money.

But there is family good news. My brother, who is pretty much bedridden, has been in the hospital for two or three weeks, but it looks like he can go home tomorrow. I’m so grateful for small slivers of hope.

Tonight Subie and Phil came for a drink. She said she watched all day for a message telling them not to come, but I would have wanted them here no matter which way things went with Sophie. They are longtime friends, the kind who are a comfort, and they were tonight. It was the first time Subie drove over our new, nicely flat driveway, and she was full of raves about it.

I am deeply grateful to all of you who have sent hugs and prayers and good wishes. You help me as I wait in limbo, and I’m sure. If she knew, Sophie would be grateful too. She always did love to be the center of attention.