Snug and safe from harm.

Today was a day.

My ferret had seizures all morning and screamed this scream. It hurts too much to think about. After calling many vets, I finally got him in somewhere. I texted R and she was good to not come. I called S’s school and he came out to say goodbye. L fell asleep on the way there, which was good because the 15 minute cat nap was just the thing to make him L again, after a crazy morning.

Spike’s seizures never stopped. Even after they gave anti seizure meds. She found a thumb size mass in his abdomen. He was in so much pain. He was in the lifespan range. And the only kind option left was to put him down so he wouldn’t be in pain anymore.

And I did this all with a 3 year old.

I cried. Obviously. And he made his concerned face, which, to the untrained eye is a glare, but is just him processing.

After they sedated Spike and left the room (by the way, the nurse and doctor were the kindest, nicest people I have even encountered), I asked L how he was. He said, “I a little sad” and I told him it was just right to be a little sad and he said “do you want to be sad together?” and I said if we have to be sad, together is the best way to do it.

You were very loved, Spike. I’ll look out for your sister. Rest easy.




We laughed into the sky.

I have this quiet philosophy. I believe that there are infinite parallel lives where a moment branched and a whole other life is played out differently elsewhere.

I don’t much entertain thoughts of most of these paths. Rarely do I wonder the discontentment of the Jill who didn’t get a divorce. Or the Jill who married the first guy she dated. But it does spark thought in my head randomly.

Last night Chris was on the brink of a grand mal seizure. He updated all the information I’d need for the doctors. He, for the first time in six and a half years, told me to call for an ambulance if he fell out. He felt one coming and we were as prepared as we could be.

I know too tho that if he were to have a grand mal like his last, it’s possible that would just be the end of him as I know him. Nothing prepares for that.

But as I stand here in my kitchen and he shaves in the bathroom, I’m reminded of my philosophy. Because somewhere, some Jill is living her worst day. Somewhere she hasn’t slept or is waking into the nightmare that her husband had a seizure that took him from her. And my heart hurts.

A few years back, I fell down a flight of stairs. When Chris opened the basement door to come after me, because of the position I was in, he thought I was dead. Sometimes I think about that Chris. The one in the parallel universe who lost Jill that night. My heart hurts for him too.

So today, I just feel immense gratitude. And every cell of my being honors the us on different branches, living out different lives, some immeasurably paralyzing, while others blissfully content. And I hope I remember too, in times of great darkness, that some me somewhere else is living out goodness and wishing me well.