Today, with the exception of needing to go to the doctor for a follow-up exam this afternoon, is a Work Day, and I will be shutting down the internets very soon.
I do want to mention, for the people who are here for the cats…the marvelous healing power of purrs.
At the ER Monday night, I was given a shot of high-test ibuprofen, and given a muscle-relaxant in pill form to take before I went to bed. In theory, this was to help me sleep through the night.
In fact, it helped me sleep for about four hours, when the pain woke me again and I lay in bed counting the hours until CVS opened and I — well, actually, Steve — could go into town and get the prescriptions filled. I twisted and turned and couldn’t find any position that provided relief — for an hour or so by the clock on the ceiling.
About 4 am, I decided that, if I started walking, I could be in Waterville when CVS opened, Belle jumped up to the foot of the bed, STOMPED up until she was next to me, sat down and HUFFED. It really was very clearly, “What on earth is the matter with you, stupid kitten?” — and she started to purr.
“It won’t work,” I told her. Whereupon she blinked at me, threw herself against my chest (I was laying on my side) and brought up the Big, Deep, Rough purrs from ‘way down at the bottom of the Purr Box. I closed my eyes, still convinced that it wasn’t going to work. . .
And woke up at 9 am with my back hurting, but somewhat less.
The rest of Tuesday was spent with heating pad on/heating pad off, listening to Pandora and dozing. Trooper took day-shift, with Sprite filling in for necessary breaks. Yesterday, all was very nearly back to normal, though Trooper and Belle still hung close, and today, as previously suggested is a work day.
As I type, Belle is in the wooden basket on my desk, and Trooper is sitting next to the keyboard, purring and aiming head-butts at my chin.