Difficult Decisions

My baby boy Billy has had a rough go of it this week. One morning, I woke up and his mouth had been bleeding. He's always had trouble with his teeth (and his ears... and his back). The conversation started about that it might be time to think about making a difficult decision. Yes, he's now 14, and after so many surgeries over the course of his life, we don't have that kind of money just sitting around any more.

I froze. My heart jumped into my throat as my stomach sank. I wanted to drink. I wanted to smoke. I wanted to cut and hit my head and overdose. I wanted to do anything to block out this pain. I can't bear the thought of losing him.

Ever since we lost Silky, just over four years ago, I realised for the first time that they wouldn't be here forever. I'd never considered that they wouldn't always be by my side. I've been petrified of losing Billy too. For four years now, I've said I could never get another dog as the pain of losing them is too much to bear. I've always said that it would be the end for me. That I really couldn't go on without him.

That night, he lost a lot of blood. Mum asked if I'd made a decision, and I just lost it. I sat on the floor and started bawling that I can't do this, I don't know what to do, I don't know what I should do. It felt like my heart was breaking. I spent the first few days in tears.

We took him to the vet. Due to my agoraphobia, I usually hold him for the car ride, and stay in the car while mum takes him in. This time, I actually went in for the first time in years.

We got a quote on the surgery, and depending on how many teeth need to be removed, it's going to cost somewhere between $1,400 and $2,000. He doesn't like his mouth being looked at, but it looks like he'll need all of them removed (what's left after the previous surgeries, anyway). I just hope he'll be okay without them. His teeth are diseased, and if they're not removed, it'll go into his jaw bone, which would eventually lead to a fracture.

I managed to find one company that would approve me for a loan while a) on a pension, and b) without going into an office in person. It's going to take a long time to pay off, and the interest rate is ridiculous, but it's worth it. I can't imagine life without him. Besides, after spending tens of thousands on various surgeries and medical issues over the years, I can't just give up. I will do anything I can to keep my baby boy safe.

He's been doing a bit better the past couple of days. His mouth only bled for the first two or so days. But for the first few days, it looked like we were going to have to say goodbye. I fell into mourning even though he was still right here beside me, and it's a hard feeling to shake. He's not a young pup any more. I guess it just reminds you of how fragile life it, and how quickly everything can change.

Tomorrow my GP's coming around for my first home visit appointment. She also wants to try getting me out for a short walk, which scares the shit out of me. I haven't even been able to walk around the block for years, despite wanting to. I know the goal is to be able to make the 5-minute walk solo to get to appointments, but even the first steps are terrifying.

On top of getting out to take Bill to the vet and tomorrow's walk, last weekend we went out for a family dinner for my brother's birthday at his favourite local Indian place. We haven't all been out for dinner since he and his girlfriend broke up a year ago, when we'd all go out together. I haven't had any reason to go out for dinner since then either, so it was nice for a change.

Samosas, Chicken Pakora, and Aloo Tikki for starters

Can you tell my brother loves naan bread?

xxBella

Whoops.

Three guesses why I haven't written in two (closer to three) weeks.

I seem to be caught in a cycle at the moment that sees me landing in hospital every few weeks. Last weekend I had another overdose, on my psych meds, topped off with my over-the-counter sleeping pills.

There was a lot that triggered it. Between feeling so lost and alone without appointments, and the big trauma anniversary, I just lost it. I raided my stockpile around 8pm. I didn't think it would have the same impact as last time. Despite being a similar number of pills, it took longer for them to effect me. It didn't worry me, and I figured I'd just wake up the next morning feeling groggy.

I have no idea what time 000 was called, or what tipped mum off. I'd hidden all the pill packets. I did write the names of what I'd taken on the back of my hand, both for my benefit and in case there was medical intervention needed, because I know it's hard if they don't know what you've taken. I fell asleep sometime around 9pm. From what I've put together, I think it was around 11am the next morning that mum called an ambulance, after realising I wasn't just sleeping in.

I woke up some time around 9pm, but it took a while before I was really 'with it'. Again, I couldn't walk, but this time it wasn't only because of the overdose itself. After spending close to 24 hours unconcious, and 14 of those in one position on the couch, I had pressure wounds on my feet. There was five big blisters where they'd been resting against each other, plus five smaller ones on my right hand. My entire right side is still aching. It hurts to move my ankle, my knee, my hip, my shoulder.


One positive that's come out of it, is that I've reconnected with an old friend. We haven't seen each other in years. Like all friendships, we eventually lost touch.

We used to be good friends. These days, he works in patient assistance. You know, wheeling people around and all that jazz. The last time I saw him was probably close to five years ago. Again, I was in hospital. I was up for an early morning smoke and coffee, and saw him in the cafeteria. We spoke briefly, but never followed up on keeping contact.

He saw me being taken into emergency, and kept walking by my room on the ward until I woke up, hoping to see me awake and talk to me. He came to see me on breaks. He brought me chocolate, and wheeled me downstairs for smokes. We picked up right where we left off. Even just getting a hug felt so good. I can't remember the last time I was hugged.

The next day, he gave me a little vial of majick healing herbs. He even drove me home when mum wouldn't pick me up, so that was really nice.


I was on crutches when I came home, thanks to the pressure wounds. It was only a couple of days ago that I managed to get back on my feet again. For the first few days especially, until the blisters started to heal, I wasn't moving much at all. When I could start to walk a little bit again, it became a battle of whether my foot hurt more hobbling around or if the rest of my body ached more using crutches.

I'd come home on Tuesday night. By Wednesday, I was in so much pain, I was in tears. The blister on the base of my right foot was the worst. It was the largest of the blisters, and it was in the worst place. From when I woke up until this point, it had just kept getting bigger day by day. If my foot so much as twitched, it was agony. The skin was so taut, there was no flexibility.

As it was causing so much pain, mum actually drove me to the doctors so I could get it seen to. My GP wasn't working, but they could get me in to see someone else. He was my GP from the time I was born basically until my mental health reached a certain point, and he wasn't doing anything, and I had to find someone else.

He had to pop the blister, because like he said, it was going to pop anyway. So he drained this mass of fluid, but it just closed over and refilled by the next day. I had to go in three mornings in a row, plus this Tuesday after the long weekend. It was only the third time it was popped that it stopped refilling, as they used a blade instead of a needle.


I'd texted the dietician once I realised I could no longer get to appointments. She was shocked, and said she'd come for home visits. She was going to come around this week, but I actually managed to get there. I had to see my GP for the dressings anyway, so I'd made the appointment just before in case I got lucky and mum agreed to take me down earlier since I was going to be there anyway. By surprise, she did.

This is why I absolutely love her. Not only did she give me her personal number longer ago than I can remember, but she actually cares. I can't express how happy and relieved I was to see her text. She said again to feel free to text her any time. Even she gave me a hug when I saw her this week. March must be the month of many hugs for me.

My GP is also going to come for home visits, and there's one booked for the 27th. But she also wants me to go out for a walk with her, which is scary as hell. I know it's with the intention of building up so I'll be able to walk the five minutes to appointments by myself, but that doesn't make it any less scary.


I promise my next post won't be overdosehospitalohwoeisme.


Magick herbs
Words keep piling up on my hand these days
Prior to popping
To end on a positive note, here is a picture of the cat hiding in a garbage bag full of weeds.

xxBella