Love Ethic

I took Sir Flip to get a special It Goes To Eleven procedure yesterday.  He'd put off a spinal tap for the last year and finally obtained one.  Putting off a medical procedure is quite out of character for Flip.  I personally think he is addicted.  Usually at the first mention of a surgery or invasive test, he salivates and books one ASAP.  

But after his procedure, it seems that the Spinal Tap has gone the way of the Tooth Fairy and other myths.  My entire life, those very words have been uttered as a curse...worse than labor...worse than anything you can think of.  But as it turned out, he didn't feel a thing really.  Not at the time.  Today and yesterday have been more of a caution for him.  After the test they kept him lying flat for an hour and then he was to go home and emulate that as much as possible for the day.  Today he says it's hard to look right atcha baaaaaby....he had a spinal, so headaches maybe.  (Ok if you didn't get that it was a Call Me Maybe reference).  We spoke of possibly seeing each other tonight but then well....Happy Birthday a la Frosty the Snowman.  He never brought it up and I'm getting bored of inviting myself over.   If I am the one to bring this up, I will be stamped Negative.  Guess I just like to feed a relationship differently.  Starving it isn't my MO, know what I mean Vern?

When they first called Flip the Starvation Master in for his appointment yesterday, I phoned around on my cell to see if I could find special food for Kyyo, in order to bulk him up since he lost weight during his antibiotics journey.  It turned up nothing except my awareness of how awesome technology is between cells and computers.  An elderly couple, old as Oaks sat across from me.  He was the one being given to the Vampires.  She was the dutiful wife.  They were Reality TV.  He mumbled something and without looking up at him she said "You're not here to watch the television."  Old people even say "Television".  They're allergic to abbreviations.  Now I am aware that I've used the full word here on this blog, but that's because it is in print.  Or I'm getting old.  Because writing Television sounds better than writing TV.  

There were easy smiles between this couple, gentle laughter that would have been a welcome light breeze had they been made of Weather.  They seemed to genuinely listen to one another.  They both picked up magazines - she - a Family Circle type, he - a Connecticut magazine.  She spoke to him of their mail woes.  That she wrote "Does not live at this address" on an envelope.  She then wondered aloud how much of their own mail went to errant addresses.  Her husband kept quiet for a few moments...I thought perhaps this would be a scene that plays out amongst many couples.  Someone talks.  No one responds because No one is really listening.  A minute later he replied after giving it thought.  "I think it's because Work Ethic isn't what it used to be".  

You need no more proof of the fact that they were both at least 103.  Work ethic and the formal word rather than that crack slang - TV.  Although I would have been blown away if either them uttered the word, Hi-Def.

Speaking of Old Men, my guinea pig needs his probiotics.  He looked like an old man in his morning bathrobe when he came out of his "house" today.  He's been eating like a picky teenager, but eating.  Now I have to re-train him to drink out of his own water bottle because he has gotten used to the Rodent Mama syringing him water.  I have to go out of town for a night this weekend for a wedding for his cousin that we see maybe once or twice a year (any wedding over a half hour away is evil) and need a certain small animal to go independent and not die on me because I couldn't answer the ringing of the bell.  Admittingly, I do not want to go to this wedding and will be paying at least $110 to pay for the privilege of being where I don't want to be, with probably a meat slathered plate of food since Flip never filled out the RSVP cards.  He was put on the spot over the phone and was guilt punched into saying "Yes".  He cannot go if I don't go because he can't afford to.  I can't afford it either but he doesn't seem too upset by that as much as the fact that he already said he was going.  Oh I didn't mean to be a jerk with money and have a kid and three pets to feed and one to possibly keep giving medical care to if he doesn't die on me because I wasn't home for over 24 hours to feed him fresh food and syringe hydrate him.  What was I thinking?  

He Ain't Heavy, He's Now my Brother

Another treat from the ABC Family channel.  Home of the bi-monthly Harry Potter marathon!  I am taking a break all those moments full of Must Do's in order to just sit and write for a bit.  The last week has procured a rather savagely close bond with one of my little guinea pigs.  I put Kyyo in his kiddie pool to wander around and enough being naughtily cage-less and found blood in his urine.  Triply eek with burnt mushrooms throughout.  (I hate any kind of mushrooms. Burnt just ruins it for the rest of you.)  

Flashback: Sick guinea pig with a UTI at least four and a half years ago....$800 at the vet but he did recover from that incident.  Ricci passed and I felt the need to get another Pig of Guinea.  When I saw my rescued boy, I decided to adopt two of them.   I learned immediately that they hated each other and two cages would be what I'd be cleaning out once a week for the last 3.5 years thus far.  These piggies were dumped off by a river in the month of January, I am told.  They, and a bunch of other small animals that had been rescued.  

So imagine the familiar blood in urine and immediately my bank account started to shrink.  Prescribed for now are doses of Baytril, which are in injection form.  Something that I have Zay-ro experience in.  I've now entered the world of dosing up a guinea pig.  It sorta sucks but if I can do it really fast I don't hear him squeal.  Either that or he's exhausted from the pain so he forgets.  

Today I went to put the cap back on the needle immediately after injection and the (yes, I'm going to swear now) FUCKING THING WENT THROUGH THE CAP AND PRICKED MY FINGER!  I felt sort of like Lucy in the Peanuts comic strip...."Argh!  Dog germs!"  Kyyo took the express train straight back to his cage and I pushed all the blood out that I could under running water.  The whole time wondering, is this bad?  It really was the teensiest pin prick.  But to me it held the possibility of transferring an underworld of bizarreness into my body.  Will I now have a UTI?  Will I wriggle my nose more?  Develop whiskers in an unfortunate spot, such as my ass?

Today is Sunday of course. Which means everything important on the other end of the phone is going to be answered by a service who will find me the On Call savior.  Each vet told me to call my medical doctor.  The medical doctor told me to call the vet.  The farmer takes a wife, the farmer takes a wife, Hi Ho the Dario the farmer takes a wife.  I explained to both parties that I need to talk to both.  The vets know stuff about the guinea pig and meds that the people doctor would lose in a round of Jeopardy. One answering service demanded my credit card number so that I may graciously be charged $30 before allowing me to give my phone number to hot potato on.  I understand doctors needing to be paid but I have never heard of charging someone over the phone for these services.  I told the woman that no one else would be charging me today so why is she?  Meanwhile, my anxiety level was challenging any firework to soar higher than it.

I remembered my old piggie, Ricci and the vet he'd gone to years ago.  How they treated him like I wasn't even in the room.  They spoke to him as if he was truly special to them.  As a last resort, I called them.  A kind woman named Dr. Lamb (seriously!  How can you be a jerk with that name?  It's impossible.) called me back finally.  Her voice was filled with Sunday picnics, gentle waves of the ocean and a sterile petri dish.  She said that she'd pricked her own fingers with worse and that part would be fine.  Also that his skin has basically the same bacteria as mine and I would be fine.  And for those who think that I am a hypochondriac (because I have been accused), the doc says that I did exactly what I should have in cleaning it out.   Although I always wanted to be a vampire, Kyyo and I now have a bond.  I guess I get to be part defenseless guinea pig.  Not what I was striving for but it happened all in the name of dedication to make him better.  Tonight I'll be keeping my eyes totally on that needle when I put the cap back on.  

He's hardly been eating as well, so I've been bribing him with desperate highly coveted cavy items.  Lots of red leaf lettuce and fresh grass outside.  And really, these creatures in cages depend on us humans for everything.  Once we agree to take them on, we need to remember that every single comfort comes from us.  So in not knowing whether or not poor piggie is going to make it, I've been trying to punch my lazy streak in the nads and take him and his buddy outside to just enjoy the fresh air and eat as much lawn buffet as they can handle.  It means a lot to me that if anything happens to him, his days held some enjoyment besides sitting in a cage.

Speaking of cage-ed ones, I must retrieve my buddy and give him tonight's dose of Baytril.  I promise to turn my head away from Remus Lupin and Severus Snape as I do so.