The week's nerve-wracking actually started last week with an email from my brother in South Florida. I have only one sibling, my big brother who's three years older than I am. My niece went on a trip to a bridesmaids party with some friends of hers out of state (possibly Tennessee). Rather than get the parking fees for the long weekend, she asked her dad to drive her to the airport and then pick her up after the weekend. So dad and daughter spend about an hour in a car together on both days. His daughter came down with Covid. By last week, brother and sister in law both were sick and signed up for a Covid test. They got the results they were positive by last Friday.
The past Monday, brother was feeling like he had a nasty flu, but was concerned he might be getting bronchitis or worse. He called this primary care doc who said, "get to the ER." He was admitted by Monday afternoon. It turned out that by Tuesday, he was feeling pretty normal and would have thought the flu was over with, but the team of doctors had more things in mind. He was treated with plasma from patients who recovered from Covid, the new drug Remdesivir, and more. They said his blood had high levels of a protein (D-Dimer) that indicates clots being formed; a test which has been used widely treating Covid patients. Based on that, they gave him anti-clotting medications and a blood transfusion that was supposed to help the clotting issue as well. I'm awaiting a call, text or other message saying he was discharged from the hospital, but while he's moving in the direction of "out of the woods," I don't think he's really there.
The other thing which sucked all the attention we had was a veterinary visit with surgery for one of our cats, the one I call my "little buddy," Mojo. (That was his name when we adopted him in the summer of 2010, and we kept it.) We usually call him Moe, and if any cat I've ever known had an excess of personality, it's Moe. Unfortunately, Moe has allergies (as I do) which makes him tend to be a mouth-breather and need to get his teeth cleaned more often (as I do). Last year's visit got canceled by Covid and the vet shutting down part of the year, and though we knew it was needed, it just didn't get done. The vet came up with a way of coping and started seeing patients again midway through the year, and when we took them in for their annual shots and visits at the end of December, it was a priority to get that done. The doctor examined his mouth there in the clinic and said he had broken canine tooth that needed to be removed.
Tuesday morning we delivered Mojo to the vet's office expecting him to get his teeth cleaned and one removed. Instead, when we picked him up seven hours later we found he had three teeth extracted and his gums sutured back together. He spent the first few hours at home doing the motion cats make when they get some fur stuck on their tongues and dripping saliva slightly pink with blood. As he was walking around the house trying to make the pain go away, the after effects of the anesthesia had him losing control of his back legs and flopping over. It was heart-wrenching to watch.
Tuesday night through Thursday afternoon were slow improvement, but last night seemed to be the turning point, after his nightly pain pill (he was only allocated two pills that were supposed to be good for 24 hours each). While we saw him drink a little water on Wednesday night, Thursday night was the first time we saw him eat any food we put down and drink water. Today he's acting mostly like himself although still slower and still not interacting with us as much. Much like my brother, while he's moving in the direction of "out of the woods," I don't think he's really there.
So if I've been a bit distracted, this is what has been going on.