teadragon
Adult Guinea Pig
What's a WHAmbulance?
Urban Dictionary (what? It's a valid source for make-up net terms!) says:
Really, I just need a hug. I've got a big Christmas and Guinea Pig mess that I haven't figured out how to fix yet, and I feel emotionally exhausted and want to whinge and whine and generally be a pain in the... sink.
First, on a trivial note: the guinea pigs have apparently become comfortable with floortime. So comfortable they explored to the ends of the bedroom and found the Pellet Bag. It didn't end well for the pellet bag and it certainly didn't end well for the pellets which are now either scattered, eaten or peed on. If I wasn't suprised by their resourcefulness, I'd have killed those I suspect were involved.
On the whambulance note: Cashew, despite being on metacam, is still showing symptoms that his IC is bothering him. (insert many colourful profanities here) this is obviously very unpleasant for him and also sticks me in a selfishly awkward position... I don't have a guinea pig fund because the eVet stole that and my Christmas fund (which leads onto a petty complaint). I'm now torn between considering finding Cashew a home that will be able to maintain his costs without hesitation because -- the poor guy is in PAIN and I can't do anything NOW to make it better.
The next stage of Cashew's treatment if he didn't recover on metacam and baytril was to take him in for an invasive surgery to inspect the bladder itself and find WHY his bladder is so tender and why he has IC - is it because of sludge or little tumours. And that, including aftercare and treatment won't be cheap. On top of that... Bailey, bailey, bailey - if you have another stroke before the end of New Year I'll probably throw myself down the stairs.
I'm fed up of having to focus on my pigs in a medical sense, and I hate that Cashew now PANICS when he sees me (in the cage) because he knows I'm going to shove something horrible down his throat. Even when I'm not, he acts like I'm the worst thing alive. I want to enjoy my pigs, make silly videos of them and cover them in tinsel.
Speaking of tinsel. I'm being petty and upset that I can't afford to get Christmas decorations this year. I was looking forward to decorating my new pretty flat in glitter and bright lights because I love Christmas and I love having an excuse to decorate things and to sparkle and to smush hard pine needles and I can't. I didn't resent missing out on this this year until my flatmate turned around (he's the Gringe in pastey geek form) and said "Haha, looks like you won't get what you want." *huffs*
I'm also ignoring that I still have Christmas shopping to do because otherwise my mind will explode.
I just need a hug. Eventually I'll stop being upset and avoiding everything long enough to sit down and work out a solution I think will be acceptable, but for now I'm on my whambulance.
Urban Dictionary (what? It's a valid source for make-up net terms!) says:
The imaginary rescue vehicle that will rescue you from someone's incessant whining over a trivial matter. Used mockingly, but in good humor.
Really, I just need a hug. I've got a big Christmas and Guinea Pig mess that I haven't figured out how to fix yet, and I feel emotionally exhausted and want to whinge and whine and generally be a pain in the... sink.
First, on a trivial note: the guinea pigs have apparently become comfortable with floortime. So comfortable they explored to the ends of the bedroom and found the Pellet Bag. It didn't end well for the pellet bag and it certainly didn't end well for the pellets which are now either scattered, eaten or peed on. If I wasn't suprised by their resourcefulness, I'd have killed those I suspect were involved.
On the whambulance note: Cashew, despite being on metacam, is still showing symptoms that his IC is bothering him. (insert many colourful profanities here) this is obviously very unpleasant for him and also sticks me in a selfishly awkward position... I don't have a guinea pig fund because the eVet stole that and my Christmas fund (which leads onto a petty complaint). I'm now torn between considering finding Cashew a home that will be able to maintain his costs without hesitation because -- the poor guy is in PAIN and I can't do anything NOW to make it better.
The next stage of Cashew's treatment if he didn't recover on metacam and baytril was to take him in for an invasive surgery to inspect the bladder itself and find WHY his bladder is so tender and why he has IC - is it because of sludge or little tumours. And that, including aftercare and treatment won't be cheap. On top of that... Bailey, bailey, bailey - if you have another stroke before the end of New Year I'll probably throw myself down the stairs.
I'm fed up of having to focus on my pigs in a medical sense, and I hate that Cashew now PANICS when he sees me (in the cage) because he knows I'm going to shove something horrible down his throat. Even when I'm not, he acts like I'm the worst thing alive. I want to enjoy my pigs, make silly videos of them and cover them in tinsel.
Speaking of tinsel. I'm being petty and upset that I can't afford to get Christmas decorations this year. I was looking forward to decorating my new pretty flat in glitter and bright lights because I love Christmas and I love having an excuse to decorate things and to sparkle and to smush hard pine needles and I can't. I didn't resent missing out on this this year until my flatmate turned around (he's the Gringe in pastey geek form) and said "Haha, looks like you won't get what you want." *huffs*
I'm also ignoring that I still have Christmas shopping to do because otherwise my mind will explode.
I just need a hug. Eventually I'll stop being upset and avoiding everything long enough to sit down and work out a solution I think will be acceptable, but for now I'm on my whambulance.