A day of passings

I woke up this morning not to be a wreck about giving Bella away to my pet sitter, Chris.

I refused to cry (except at about 3AM in the bathroom when she was sound asleep in bed) and acted this AM when I left for work as though I would be back like any other day.

But, of course, it wasn't any other day.

I hugged her after our walk, scolded her once again for immediately proceeding to jump on my expensive couch pillow and devour it, and then hugged her good-bye. Normal day.

Then I got in my car and lost my shit. I cried all the way to the parking garage at work and then the two block walk to the dentist where I had three dental procedures (just in case any of you are keeping track, as I CERTAINLY am NOT: I have had six fillings, twelve vaccinations, every blood test imaginable to man in two weeks, one root canal, one external biopsy and one internal biopsy, and am on two different anti-malaria's as well as some other shit that supposedly counteracts some river virus found in Uganda.

For a woman who doesn't go to the doctor regularly, this was traumatic as hell.

Yes, I am glad all my results have (finally) come back normal. No, I am not happy that I have had so much dental work that my mouth looks like someone who has had a stroke when she talks and that my arms and ass are so sore from shots that I have to decide whether to sit or write everyday. I hate all of this.

So, today, I think I hit my moral "breaking point." Bella was gone, I had spent two hours at the dentist, two hours at a my "farewell" lunch where everyone teased me (which normally would be cool but I was NOT in the mood) for not being able to keep food in my mouth because I couldn't feel my lower jaw from all the Novocaine, and then worked for five more hours.

Then I cam home to no Bella, a hell of a lot of packing to do, and the recognition that my body was asking me, "please, please...can we just take a break?"

Sadly, the answer is "no." We can't take a break. One more day. Just one.

Then, maybe a break for about five days.

Then, "next."

But tonight, I miss Bella the most. I know I can't keep crying because I know I am doing/did the right thing.

But being alone to face this is as terrifying as it hold the glimmer of being OK.

Another Xanax perhaps?