Remembering what's important

I had a reality check this morning.  Last night Ozzie, one of our four wonderful ginger companions came in with his eye partially swollen shut.  Upon looking him over it became obvious he had been the victim of a nasty scrap.  Considering his size I would hate to see the other cat.

His lower eyelid is torn and hard to look at.  Somehow he permitted my bungling nursing efforts and I bathed his left eye in salt water, relieved to see he could open it further as a result.  Alana's boyfriend was king hit on New Year's Eve earlier this year and as nasty as it looked all swollen, purple and green he healed quickly and well, so I held great hope for Ozman.

This morning my hope turned to distress, his eye was completely swollen shut and even after bathing he didn't seem able to force it open.  Using my best vetinary skills I managed to prise the lids apart but it wasn't pretty and neither is what I saw.  He had gunk and pus and a swollen angry lump where is lower eyelid had once been.  I felt sick.  I can't imagine how he was feeling.

Lying in bed this morning I had planned my day and it was all about me, well until it was time to take Lani to the gym at least, but now it was all about Oz.  I grabbed the Yellow Pages, looked up my vet's number and dialled. 

My voice was shaky, I knew it was, but I couldn't help it, I wanted his eye to be fine and I wanted it to be better.  It wasn't opening time yet so I was automatically transferred to a very sympathetic nurse working in the emergency clinic who explained that I would need to ring back in ten minutes.  Ten minutes is a long time especially having been informed that they might not be able to make a house call since they were already heavily booked for the morning.  As stupid as it sounds, I have four cats and no cat carrier. 

The vet agreed to make the house call and we arranged a time between 10.30 and 11. Kelsey the receptionist had made my day, whatever happened from here could only be the best for Ozman.  I gave him a pat, I should have left him sleeping, and I returned to doing the books for our business to pass the time. 

Before I knew it a little green hatchback was pulling into my driveway and help was at hand.  Having looked Ozzie over she concluded that yes he had been in a cat fight and yes he did have a cut near his eye but that was just the beginning. He also had a cut on his eyeball, an abcess on his eye, a fever and his lymph nodes were up.  I'd only diagnosed two out of six but I didn't have the flourescent yellow dye that she squirted in his eye and he accepted with out so much as a squeak, nor did I want to think that was possible. 

She dosed his eye with antibiotic drops, popped a tablet in his mouth as easily as if she was administering a tab to a teenager and all was going well. 

Sometimes you just have to know when to stop though.  We discovered that was after the tablet and before the syringe full of pain relief.  Syringes, tablets, stethoscopes and containers went flying, some of which I am sure are lost forever in the dust that resides under my too-low-for-the-vacuum couch, but she wasn't worried.  She found the syringe and discovered that I wasn't in need of stitches so she was happy and we left Ozman alone.

When she left I gave Oz some of the special cat milk I buy for the cats as a treat hoping he would show some interest.  Who was I kidding? This was Ozman I was talking about.  He doesn't lap or nibble at his food the way the others do, he inhales it and in what seemed like seconds the milk was gone.  Oz is going to be fine and so am I.

We get to go through the entire process again in a weeks time so I hope cats don't have amazing powers of recall or things might not be easy as they have been today.  In contrast I hope I do have strong recall abilities because today taught me something invaluable. 

Call it cliched, call it corny, I really don't care.  What I realised is that I didn't care about whether I completed everything on my new to do lists or not, I just wanted Oz to be well and I am glad that I am a stay at home wife and Mum who was gifted the time to sit and wait the 3 hours for the vet.

Charged emotions are the norm when women feel forced to justify their position as either working or stay-at-home Mums and I don't believe that is right.  Women should feel comfortable with their decisions, decisions that should be based on what they consider is best for themselves and their families.  For the first time in a long time, I just became comfortable with mine!

Writing might well be navel gazing but would I  understand myself without it? 

I doubt it!