Still Going

We had an episode with Shawn that we kept very hush-hush.  Hid vision had suddenly gone blurry and he felt very dizzy.  We didn't want to worry his mother so we kept it all very quiet.  His doctor ran a serious of pokings and proddings, took several vials of blood and concluded that Shawn's blood pressure was sky high.  He's due back next week for the results of the blood work.

What ticked me off is that the doctor never mentioned anything to Shawn about smoking or eating habits.  I think everyone assumes by looking at how thin Shawn is that he doesn't love french fries and Hot Pockets.

I had my own issues to deal with on Saturday.  Massive diarrhea, a painful boil cropped up, I think I broke something in my foot or a toe because something there has been seriously hurting for several days and it will not go away.  Late night, I ate a pineapple cup and the stomach cramps subsided.  Go pineapple, go.

This evening, I took Lucy outside.  I haven't cried a few days it seems, which is good.  Things are getting better.  I watched as Lucy stepped on uneven ground and her hind leg buckled slightly.  Immediately a crystal clear image was the focus of my mind.

I saw a perfect picture of my little dog Prissy, trying desperately to hold herself up with hind legs that could not do what they were meant to do.  It broke my heart to watch her.  It broke my heart to remember this.  All my last memories of that little dog are of her in pain or fear. 

What began as a quiet, gentle cry quickly manifested in a hearty bawl.  I doubled over, covering my face with my hands, not caring what neighbors might be out, oblivious to the world around me.  Lucy, who hadn't wanted anything to do with me nearly all day, quickly trotted over and reached up to me by stretching her front feet onto my knee.  I scratched her tiny ear and cried even harder.  We went inside and she sat with me as I attempted to finish the movie I had started before Lucy's bathroom break.  For the next hour, I cried on and off as Lucy nuzzled my hand, signaling that I must pet her immediately. 

Maybe it's merely PMS.  Maybe I just haven't quite grieved enough. 
God, why did You make me go through this?