Yesterday, we had a sick little puppy in the hospital with vomiting and diarrhea. While he was in the back, getting rehydrated and filled up with anti-nausea meds, I was putting my head on my arms thinking, oh no, I’m getting sick.
We were quite the pair, the two of us. While he was improving, I was declining. I envied him his quiet cage and his IV and I wondered if I crawled into a lower cage with a blanket and a hot water bottle how long it would take anyone to notice.
It’s amazing how empathetic being sick makes you. “Can you talk more quietly?” I whispered to the techs. “You’re probably making his head hurt.” “Don’t bang the door shut!” “Be gentle with him when you pull that catheter! He’s sick!”
They got sick of me soon enough and sent me home an hour early.
The good news is, by all accounts we are both much better today.
