All posts by Iris

Morning Monologue

Living with Cats

Oh, you’re waking up! …purr… I’ve been waiting for you. I know you’ve been tired lately, so I thought I’d let you sleep in this morning.

Did you notice how I didn’t jump on your stomach, or meow in your face, or knock over anything in the house? Did you? Did you? Wasn’t that nice of me? …purr… I thought that this morning, because I love you, I’d just lie here on your belly and wait. And put my paw on your hand so I’d notice if you moved, even if I dozed off. And purr, but quietly, so it wouldn’t wake you up.

…purr…

I didn’t expect you to sleep all the way until nine o’clock, though.

You know, I got a little worried as the morning wore on and no food appeared in my dish. I mean, you did sleep through dinner-time last night, so it’s not like I don’t have cause to be nervous. I know you did finally get up and feed me last night, but the wait would make anyone nervous. I’m not saying this to rush you or anything. Not at all. …purr… I just want you to keep it in mind this morning as you decide how quickly to wake up.

…purr …

Are you awake yet?

…purr …

Here, let me just adjust the pressure of my paw on your hand.

…purr…purr…purr…

Sick

Me and My Life

There have been two bugs floating around at work. One of them mostly involved being tired and generally feeling icky. The other bug included all of the above, plus a fever, a cough, and some sinuses with ambitions for world domination. I came down with the first of these last Sunday, but there was no time for resting. I’m all for taking sick days and all that, but I just couldn’t justify them last week. And by Friday, I was feeling much better. Still very tired, but not nearly as sick.

Friday night I came down with the second bug, and I’ve been pretty much flat on my back ever since. Well, except for leading choir on Sunday morning and going to work for a couple of hours this morning.

I wasn’t at all prepared for this. I haven’t had a fever since I can remember, so I’m a little out of practice, I guess. It’s a boring business being laid up while the rest of the world is at work, and there’s nothing good on TV, and I’m too worn out to read for any length of time, and I’m really really lonely. And while I had every intention of taking the time to work on a couple of presentations I have coming up, I haven’t done anything like that. Or done my laundry. Or washed my dishes. Or really done anything other than make tea for myself watch an old season of the TV show “24.” Nuthin’ like a little murder and mayhem to make the time pass…

The only one happy about all this is the cat. He loves my new body temperature and has curled up on my all day every day, leaving only to eat and use his box. Boy am I glad he leaves to do those things!

Tact

Me and My Life

Last night, the topic of discussion among my choir members as they gathered and settled in for rehearsal turned to colonoscopies. After hearing about the trials of the day before one of these procedures, they started comparing exactly when during the procedure they had pain or cramping, how many drugs they needed during and after, and the fact that certain medical conditions (afflicting a couple of choir members) make these procedures either worse or impossible. Enlightening.

Every once in a while they like to remind me that I’m the youngest one in the room by a good 30 years, and last night was one of those nights. They turned to me and told me that “this is what you have to look forward to when you get older” and that “when you get there, come to us and we’ll give you tips.”

What I said in response: “What a thing to look forward to. Thanks ever so much for reminding me” (joking and laughing and hoping for a new conversation soon).

What I didn’t say: “By the time I need one they’ll have invented a new procedure.”

Empathy

Randomness

I’m a highly empathetic person. I’d go so far as to describe it as pathologically empathetic, some days, though for most of my life I’ve relied heavily on this ability. At it’s best, it lets me reach out, dip my fingers into another person’s emotions, taste them, feel them, take them into myself, and listen to people through their own perceptions. This way, I can perform the one function that makes me feel most human, most useful, and most connected to the people I care about. Contemplating the loss of that function is like contemplating life without one of my limbs, or without one of my other 5 senses.

Several years ago, I realized this empathy thing could occasionally be more dangerous than useful. I’d sit near someone and, rather than settling comfortably into their emotions, I’d find myself drowning in wave after wave of pain and hurt and sadness. I’d stand next to someone in line and, before I knew it, be nearly in tears as that person spilled stories of abandonment or confusion or loss. Good friends going through difficult times exhausted me and left me unable to be there for them as I would have liked. In other words, the empathy was effectively making the one thing it was most useful for impossible. And so I started practicing not feeling other people’s emotions quite as much, or at least keeping them at a distance, much like watching an eclipse through a pin-hole or feeling a surface through latex gloves.

Well, something somebody said to me on Friday made me realize that something’s gone a little haywire with this whole process lately. I don’t know quite how or why, but so it goes. I’d forgotten how to turn off the spiggot and gotten overwhelmed, which means I’d probably misinterpreted people and that I couldn’t trust anything I was feeling. Yet again, the mechanism is preventing it’s own usefulness. It kept me from asking one friend if he was ok early in the week, it made me misinterpret someone in the middle of the week and say things I hope didn’t sound too awful, and it exhausted me by the end of the week. I guess it’s time to work on my teflon coating (as my mom calls it) and see if I can return it to it’s former protective state.