Face to the Floor

Things have been busy and hard. We visited Sir's family for Thanksgiving, then I picked up family and traveled to Virginia for a family reunion of sorts. Back to New York after the weekend, and I spent a few days redoing my mom's bedroom, painting and putting up a fabric wall.

Sprinkled between all of this has been problems with my cat and myself. I continue to have weird symptoms and tests so far are pointing to a problem with my thyroid. I'm getting another test tomorrow.

And my poor kitty. He recently dropped a ton of weight, and has been vomiting. I brought him in to the vet and after a few tests, it was confirmed that he has advanced lymphoma in his stomach. He's an older cat, but he's part of the family. He was also my dad's cat for a long time, so the thought of losing him feels like losing a piece of my dad.

Keep positive thoughts coming for my brave boy.

After much agonizing, we chose to do a month of chemotherapy after which we'll see how he is doing and evaluate either to continue if he is responding, or to go to palliative care.

I don't want to let funding sway what is best for my little buddy, so we're going for it, but I am so stressed out with finances and how I'm going to pay for all this. Even with Sir working... it's like any time I get a little headway, something happens and takes the place of any financial relief, and then some. I'm just digging a hole.

Yesterday, Sir decided that he was going to help me. He can't fix the kitty. He can't make me less depressed about everything going on. But he can help financially. He told me to make a list of every bill that I pay, complete with monthly amount, total amount, account numbers, everything.

I really didn't want to. I don't want him to have to be responsible for me like that. Yes, we take care of each other, but I suppose I viewed it sort of as - if I were doing everything right, he wouldn't have to help me. I tried explaining how I felt to Sir, complete with "but I don't want to" (but never I'm not going to). Still, he'd had enough. He got up mid sentence and calmly walked into the center of the room. He told me to join him. I stopped talking, and very nervously approached him. For some reason I thought he was going to hug me (his stance, perhaps). Instead, he grabbed a fistful of my hair, pulling me down, bringing me to my knees. Then he yanked harder, pulling my face right to the floor. I really wished I had swept/mopped at that moment.

He informed me that he *IS* helping me this way. I *WILL* make him the list and that is the end of it.

"Do you understand?"

"...uh huh."

He yanks on my hair.

"Yes, Sir!"

I made him a spreadsheet with the information he wanted. I still feel awkward about it.

But I emailed it to him today, nonetheless. I guess it is just another level of control that he has. Hopefully with this help from Sir, divine help will also come for the kitty and for me.