Idjit or Genius, Who Knows?

A couple of bad days

Two horrible things have happened in the last few days. One has a relatively happy ending, the other is still up in the air.

First, my friend Susie Q, a.k.a. ARE YOU NUTS?!!!, tried to commit suicide. This was no “cry for help”, this was the real thing. She left no note, took a bunch of assorted pills, and parked her car on a side street so she wouldn’t taint her apartment with her ghost, just in case. Fortunately, she misjudged the pill dosage, and the seclusion of the street she parked on. Cops found her, she got her stomach pumped, and now she’s stuck in a mental ward against her will. She honestly wonders why they won’t let her go for a walk outside.

She thought she had good reasons for what she did. Her husband of 25+ years has turned out to be a cheating, physically and emotionally abusive, alcoholic piece of crap; she is broke and saddled with a mountain of debt he built and then stuck her with; she was diagnosed with lung cancer; and the one good job she had, which might have turned into something with an actual future, fired her when they learned of the lung cancer. (Yes, she’s a smoker. No, this does not mean she deserves lung cancer. I just know people will ask.)

In general, I am not against suicide. I do believe people should be able to do anything they want with their own bodies, as long as they hurt no one else. However, I do think suicide is only warranted by certain circumstances, and after great reflection, as it is generally an irrevocable decision. Good reasons for suicide would be an agonizing terminal illness which will bankrupt everyone you love financially, emotionally, and physically; or the realization you have murdered someone inappropriately, in cold blood. (That is, the murder was inappropriate. It should always be committed in cold blood, of course.)

Bad reasons would be a bad hair day; totaling the car while sober; an operable, tiny first stage lung cancer; and/or an asshole about-to-be-ex-husband. Good reasons = no other solution; bad reasons = a royal pain in the ass. I have explained this to Susie Q, but she’s still pissed off that she didn’t succeed. Her daughter is brokenhearted that her mother didn’t come to her for help, and didn’t even leave a note. I have told Susie Q that if she ever pulls such a stunt again she better do a bit more research and succeed; because if she doesn’t succeed I’ll come shoot her for her trouble, but not fatally. Just bad enough that she’ll have a long, long, long time to think over the error of her ways.

One good thing to come out of this, she’s seeing a specialist right away, and the tiny, first stage lung cancer will be surgically removed. She might not even need chemotherapy, as it has been discovered so early. She’s seeing a shrink almost daily, so eventually she should learn to differentiate between “Oh, crap” and “Goodbye, world” situations. I’m trying to convince her daughter that this could turn out to be a very good thing after all.

The other thing to happen was that The Marmakitty was feeling very poorly, and I was afraid it was time to say goodbye to him. I called his vet, an absolute angel, Dr. Brenda Phipps, owner of Willow Park Feline Veterinary, and she saw us right away. My poor cat had terrible pain in his stomach, couldn’t potty at all, wouldn’t eat or drink, couldn’t walk, and was just plain miserable. After thorough examination, it was determined that he was blocked up, but not very internally. He had a giant, hard, poop stuck right under his tail! On the inside, yes, but right there! This made it next to impossible for him to squish his muscles and force anything out. Dr. Brenda, SuperVet, was able to force the nasty poop out. At the time, the cat thought this was a very bad idea, and told everyone what he thought. With voice and gestures. I’m sure he was quite obscene, but Dr. Brenda was as gentle as she could possibly be, and even apologized for hurting him. To him! Then she emptied his bladder, which was horribly distended, poor little boy.

The Marmakitty was still excoriating the world in general, and Dr. Brenda and me in particular, all the way home. Here comes the funny part: the instant he was in the house and out of his carrier he scurried over to his food dish and began to yell at me that he was starving and it was all my fault! The little bugger!

He is back to what has now become normal. Of course, my eyes will remain swollen for at least another two or three days, I am completely out of tissues, and the cat is getting really tired of nose kisses. Tough beans!

So, which is the relatively happy ending, and which is still up in the air? I’m not entirely sure. Either way, I have to go kiss the cat now, it’s been at least five minutes.