Recent Events
This last week has been hell on wheels, though oddly enough several lovely things happened in the midst of near-collapse.
Last Saturday Simone (one of our beloved cats), after a week of moping around and eating little, experienced that most lovely of animal ailments: an abscessed anal gland. Very painful, very messy, requiring stitches, drains, an exorbitant vet bill, and much maintenance by the humans she holds in her sway. Washing her bum 3x per day, I mean, and forcing antibiotics down her throat. And that most humiliating and frustrating necessity for a wounded cat: the cone collar, which she must wear until her stitches come out this coming Tuesday (thank you god!). Add to that the panic we felt for days ("She's not eating. She's still not eating! She'll never eat agaaaaaaaain!!") and the fact that I was NEVER home this week except for sleeping and grabbing peanut butter toast on my way out the door made this week nearly unbearable just for that reason. And the fact that sick kitties keep you up all night, for as you know sleeplessness compounds every bad thing into a potentially life-ruining catastrophe.
Work was busy. Not so crazed that going there was unpleasant, but busy enough that taking time off wasn't an option. Even though my bosses and co-workers are to a person cat-crazed and generally very kind and accomodating.
Every evening this week was spent either rehearsing or performing Mozart's Requiem (Friday was his birthday, you know) with the symphony and my beloved chorale, and we were conducted by the immortal Itzhak Perlman. Though this chewed up and spit out my schedule, this was one of the wonderful things that happened to me. There's a good reason he's a rock star in the classical world, besides the fact that he's one of the best (if not THE best) violinists alive and a marvellous conductor. He's personable, funny, generous with praise, and so giving of his energy - muscling us through hard (and boring - forgive me, Sussmayr) bits and making sure every last person felt needed and indispensable to the musical experience.
So - that was one of the great things about this week. Another great thing was that Ramon was a prince. He did laundry, dishes, took Simone to the vet to get the drain removed, kept the cats company while I was off gallivanting with Maestro Perlman and "poor babied" me though what was nearly a breakdown. Since he has the gentlest hands he did the bum-washing while I held Simone and scratched around her ears.
Seriously. No matter what happens in my life, I must from now on get 8 hours of sleep a night. No compromise, no excuses. Because sleep deprivation makes me aggressive, moody, cynical, paranoid, self-hating, and convinced that every terrible feeling, reaction, word and sound I utter is All. My. Fault. Well, I'm like that normally, but not to this degree, OK?? I was so fuzzy I was walking into traffic without a green light (bless you, angels of protection, because those SUV drivers do not care, man), coming away from conversations at work wondering if something bad just happened but being unable to remember what dreadful thing I said, and the worst thing - unaware that one good night of sleep would make all the pain, heaviness, sorrow, frustration, cloudiness and anger go away. Finally Friday night, when it was almost all over (except one more performance Saturday night), Ramon and I were hunkered down in front of the TV with chinese takeout, and I caught myself choking up throughout almost all of "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory". Egad. Time for bed, Cerise.
I slept 12 hours that night. Got up at 11 Saturday morning, read a book for two hours, and then slept from 1 to 4. And bounced out of bed, took a shower, and have since been the picture of smug, happy well-slept-ness. Poor Ramon. I honestly don't know whether I'm easier to live with despondent and withdrawn (unless you piss me off) or so cheerful my jaws start to ache and I haven't stopped talking long enough to put food in my mouth.
Anyway. It's nice to come out of a week knowing that not only did all of that heavy darkness have a reason (other than me being a total shit, I mean), but that it's reasonably easily remedied. And I'm never so traumatized by one of my low weeks that I can't watch Ramon moving gracefully through our life, comforting, healing, and patiently (for the most part, since he is a mortal man) waiting for all of his 3 girls to return to sanity and joy.
You're my light, love.
Cerise
Last Saturday Simone (one of our beloved cats), after a week of moping around and eating little, experienced that most lovely of animal ailments: an abscessed anal gland. Very painful, very messy, requiring stitches, drains, an exorbitant vet bill, and much maintenance by the humans she holds in her sway. Washing her bum 3x per day, I mean, and forcing antibiotics down her throat. And that most humiliating and frustrating necessity for a wounded cat: the cone collar, which she must wear until her stitches come out this coming Tuesday (thank you god!). Add to that the panic we felt for days ("She's not eating. She's still not eating! She'll never eat agaaaaaaaain!!") and the fact that I was NEVER home this week except for sleeping and grabbing peanut butter toast on my way out the door made this week nearly unbearable just for that reason. And the fact that sick kitties keep you up all night, for as you know sleeplessness compounds every bad thing into a potentially life-ruining catastrophe.
Work was busy. Not so crazed that going there was unpleasant, but busy enough that taking time off wasn't an option. Even though my bosses and co-workers are to a person cat-crazed and generally very kind and accomodating.
Every evening this week was spent either rehearsing or performing Mozart's Requiem (Friday was his birthday, you know) with the symphony and my beloved chorale, and we were conducted by the immortal Itzhak Perlman. Though this chewed up and spit out my schedule, this was one of the wonderful things that happened to me. There's a good reason he's a rock star in the classical world, besides the fact that he's one of the best (if not THE best) violinists alive and a marvellous conductor. He's personable, funny, generous with praise, and so giving of his energy - muscling us through hard (and boring - forgive me, Sussmayr) bits and making sure every last person felt needed and indispensable to the musical experience.
So - that was one of the great things about this week. Another great thing was that Ramon was a prince. He did laundry, dishes, took Simone to the vet to get the drain removed, kept the cats company while I was off gallivanting with Maestro Perlman and "poor babied" me though what was nearly a breakdown. Since he has the gentlest hands he did the bum-washing while I held Simone and scratched around her ears.
Seriously. No matter what happens in my life, I must from now on get 8 hours of sleep a night. No compromise, no excuses. Because sleep deprivation makes me aggressive, moody, cynical, paranoid, self-hating, and convinced that every terrible feeling, reaction, word and sound I utter is All. My. Fault. Well, I'm like that normally, but not to this degree, OK?? I was so fuzzy I was walking into traffic without a green light (bless you, angels of protection, because those SUV drivers do not care, man), coming away from conversations at work wondering if something bad just happened but being unable to remember what dreadful thing I said, and the worst thing - unaware that one good night of sleep would make all the pain, heaviness, sorrow, frustration, cloudiness and anger go away. Finally Friday night, when it was almost all over (except one more performance Saturday night), Ramon and I were hunkered down in front of the TV with chinese takeout, and I caught myself choking up throughout almost all of "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory". Egad. Time for bed, Cerise.
I slept 12 hours that night. Got up at 11 Saturday morning, read a book for two hours, and then slept from 1 to 4. And bounced out of bed, took a shower, and have since been the picture of smug, happy well-slept-ness. Poor Ramon. I honestly don't know whether I'm easier to live with despondent and withdrawn (unless you piss me off) or so cheerful my jaws start to ache and I haven't stopped talking long enough to put food in my mouth.
Anyway. It's nice to come out of a week knowing that not only did all of that heavy darkness have a reason (other than me being a total shit, I mean), but that it's reasonably easily remedied. And I'm never so traumatized by one of my low weeks that I can't watch Ramon moving gracefully through our life, comforting, healing, and patiently (for the most part, since he is a mortal man) waiting for all of his 3 girls to return to sanity and joy.
You're my light, love.
Cerise
posted by Cerise at 3:43 PM
1 Comments:
Thanks, love. I feel much better after a restful weekend (which I betcha is more than you can say, poor thing). Simone gets her stitches out and cone off today!
Cerise
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