a whiff or urea in my nostrils

The Bad Cat (but cute)

Pippin at work

Another Monday is looming but a few hours of what turned out to be a nice Sunday are still left and I don't feel too despondent (yet). The thought of another five days of waking up in the dark, disturbed by the shrill alarm is paralysing my thoughts. 

Last week was a busy one. The Bad Cat had to go to the vet because she started peeing all over the house, but most of all in Alistair's room where there is always a layer of clothes on the floor, soft and comfortable for a wee piddle. His nice wool rug is currently being cleaned at the price of a new one... Lupin (aka the Bad Cat) has blood in her urine. I know because I made Richard pipet up a puddle for analysis at the vets. She is now being treated for an inflammatory condition but has no infection. Hopefully she gets better soon. 

In the meantime, this was a good opportunity to tidy and clean Alistair's bedroom. He is (always has been!) under strict order to keep his floor clear of all clothes and quilts and soft toys. Half of this week's laundry was Alistair's. 

The day before, Alistair had a basket ball accident. On the day I took the cat to the vet I also took Alistair to the minor injuries clinic. This was after school, he insisted that we has fine and could go. But after school, his ankle was huge and he was in great pain. Im hindsight, I should have taken him in the morning but we didn't. We waited for hours to be seen although there were not many people attending. The clerical staff to clinical staff ratio seemed not quite right. We encountered three receptionists, the one in the X-ray department asleep. There was another chap sitting next to the main door with a box of face masks. During the 3.5 hours observation period while waiting, he sat on a chair by the door and jumped up approximately every 25 minutes to handout a mask to new arrivals. Only clinic issued masks were permissible. I imagine a low job satisfaction and unbearable boredom. In contrast, clinical staff seemed underrepresented. Anyway, a fractured ankle bone was diagnosed with great confidence. Alistair burst into tears because he didn't know that broken bones can heal. He was fitted an exoskeleton boot to be worn for the foreseeable future. We ordered pizza for dinner because when we got home it was too late to rummage in the fridge for cookable food. 

The next day, the fracture clinic called with an update. The X-ray had been reviewed and no fracture was now apparent. This diagnosis was delivered with equal confidence. I am not sure what to think. There was at least agreement about the treatment, which is three weeks in the exoskeleton. 

Nearly a week later, the ankle is still swollen but less so. The pain is still significant and the initial excitement about being given a key for the lift at school has worn off a bit. I talked to Alistair about bones, how they were living tissue and how bone tissue grows and is turned over etc but I think I lost him about halfway through my lecture. 

The Bad Cat meanwhile keeps urinating. 

In other news, the laundry is done and I spent a couple of happy hours cutting fabric for my slow quilt. Alistair finished sewing his pyjama bottoms. It turns out that operating the sewing machine with a big chunky boot is possible. The house is clean although I can't shift the urea whiff from my nostrils. Nobody else can smell it so maybe it is just the lingering memory. An old friend visited today, she is relocating back to Glasgow after more than 10 years in England. We had brunch together, avocado on sourdough with poached egg and selection of cheeses. Bucketsful of coffee and lots of talking. It was a good Sunday.

Thanks for visiting 🙂