Sickness, and Fear

It is my very sad responsibility to report that sickness and fear are this month's themes. I'm still very sick, and I've finally concluded that I should probably be in the hospital, at least briefly. The overwhelming fatigue and weakness that won't go away (plus a number of other symptoms I'll spare you here) would seem to require some medical intervention. So I'll call 911, but probably not until next week, because...

My darling Sasha is sick, too. For those who may be new to these parts, Sasha is a wonderfully sweet cat, a delightful and loving little girl. Her illness has come on very quickly; without going into her symptoms, I'll simply say I have a bad feeling about it. She seems to be slipping away very quickly. After three decades of having more than one cat, Sasha has been my only cat for the last year and a half (since Cyrano's death). And I've lived with at least one cat since 1968 -- so if I were to lose Sasha, I would be without a cat for the first time in almost half a century. As a result, I'm basically hysterical.

I'm also wracked by guilt. I'm almost completely broke, down to my last hundred dollars -- yes, yes, my standard complaint at this time of the month. But being broke means I can't take Sasha to the vet, even if I could manage to get there. I'll undoubtedly have to ask for help from a friend in that connection. So I ask for donations, because I must at least try to save Sasha. If there's nothing to be done, I'll be a wreck, but I'll know I tried.

And believe it or not, I still want to get back to writing. If Sasha and I pull through this, I'll be so overjoyed that I may put out a book or two worth of essays in a month. If I should lose Sasha ... well, I'll probably latch onto writing to save myself and to keep from losing my mind altogether.

I can only offer overwhelming gratitude to all those who may be able to help. Insofar as the universe in general is concerned, Sasha and I are in need of a bit of mercy -- and perhaps a small miracle or two.