In early August I had a frightening cycling accident that caused a bloody and terrifying injury to my leg. Thankfully, both my boyfriend and a helpful police officer were on the scene and acted quickly. Two words. Ambulance. Stitches.
This happened just five days before the annual theatre festival for which I do venue management. It was too late to cancel the gig, (and frankly I need the money) so I worked the contract using a cane. The event was more hectic and more poorly scheduled than usual. It was exhausting and painful.
Then my poor cat Molly tried to die in the middle of all this. As it turns out, she has advanced heart disease which she has been hiding, as cats do. We are trying treatment to see if she can go on to live a decent quality of life. So far she is responding well to her twice daily meds, but we we're not out of the woods yet. We'll know her prognosis in a week or so. Poor sweet girl.
Right? Thanks for letting me get this off my chest. Back to carrying on.
|Molly under the dining table looking much better than she did a week ago. |
Honestly, she looked and sounded then as if she was going to leave us at any moment.
This bright eyed photo gives me hope.