I find it funny how I wrote yesterday about pharmacists and how I appreciate them, and that might also be partially because I have to play pharmacist every day.
. . . for little Niki that is.
Yes, it's unfortunate that I am not the only one who has to take medicine daily in this household.
My little guy, who is doing well, has to take anti-seizure medicine every day, twice a day. For the rest of his little kitty life.
If he doesn't get it, he's fine for a short while, but eventually the twitching and crazy comes and it breaks my heart.
I remember after all this started I was crying to my momma about how awful I felt that my little guy was going through so much terror. I could only imagine how scared he was, how confused. And of course he can't talk, so I couldn't explain to him how things are going to be ok, and as long as he gets his medicine he will feel so much better.
My mom then responded, "That's how we felt when you were growing up with Arthritis."
Or something like that. I'm not good with quotes.
But the point is that funny enough, things came around full circle, and even though it's just a cat, this cat is my baby, and I felt a pain that comes when your baby is sick.
Of course, I can only imagine that the pain my parents went through was so much more. At least my little kitty can't argue against my better judgement. I can hold him down and force medicine into his mouth, and then make things better simply by giving him food.
Granted, I'm pretty sure that my opinions of people improve greatly when they give me food too. Just sayin'.
But my parents didn't have that luxury. They couldn't just pull me up by the scruff of my neck and tell me what's best for me because I would have started throwing punches.
At least this gives me a whole new appreciation for my parents.
What would be lovely is if Niki would eventually realize that this medicine is good for him and take it without a fight. Then I wouldn't feel so bad when I have to shove a little syringe in his mouth and force some medicine mixed in water down his throat.
Sounds gruesome. But he's always happy for some food and treats right after. He's easy to please.
And thankfully it's not Tesla that is going through this, because I'm pretty sure if that little She-Devil was the one needing medicine, I'd have to quit blogging because I would be missing a few fingers.
But we gotta move on, and live with the life we've been dealt. It saddens me that I'm not the only one with a stash of prescriptions on the counter, and if I could take away his troubles I would in a heartbeat.
At least I already had a good routine to work with. First his meds, then mine. And if you'll excuse me, we have some breakfast to eat.