We had a fire drill today at work. I knew it was coming. They sent us emails telling us exactly what time it would start, where to go, what to do. No big deal, right?
Today we were also asked to wear red, white, and blue in honour of those who lost their lives and loved ones on 9/11/01, and we all stood for a minute of silence at 9:11 this morning. I was very moved, and felt for that minute that I was a part of something much greater, and it was a good feeling.
And then I sat down and went back to work, trying to get as much done as I could before the fire drill. My heart started pounding a little faster, and I obsessively kept checking to make sure I had my handbag and everything I needed inside it. The ubiquitous they said we shouldn’t stop to grab our things. Well, having recently been through a fire where I didn’t grab my handbag made me determined that it, at least, was going out the door with me.
The alarm still managed to startle me when it went off, but I got my handbag, went out the door, and walked to the far end of the parking lot, where I plopped my backside on the grass and realized I was in the middle of a full-fledged anxiety attack. It was about 2 hours, long after I was back at my desk and working, before my heart rate finally slowed to normal.
It’s been a really rough day.
The vet said that Scout’s levels have improved somewhat, but not enough for him to be able to come home yet. So they’re continuing to flood him with fluids in the hopes that the kidney failure was because he got into something toxic, and that he can recover as much as possible. But if it is chronic kidney failure, his kidneys are (as of about 8:30 this morning) working at only 30%, which is not good. We’re continuing to pray, of course. The thought of losing him is just not to be tolerated right now.
And as I sat to write this post, my heart rate sped up again, and I’m feeling not my best. I’m glad it’s Friday. I need a good weekend, and I need my little Scout boy to heal.