Not handling it well...

Amos has a fever.
And I am not handling it well.
I need surgery.
And I am not handling it well.

I am really quite nuts at the moment feeling as it if has been years since his fever started and it should be gone.  However, it started on Tuesday and he got his antibiotics on Wednesday, so really he's just some 30 hours into his 7-day course of antibiotics.  And my friend Becky just called me, sensing with her super powers that I was FREAKING OUT, to tell me that she actually thinks fevers are good things since it means the body is fighting off something.

Amos is a blooming furnace.  And the fact that he normally is no help whatsoever whenever I have cold spells, this constant radiating of heat is a constant reminder to me that my Fluffernutter is ill.  I dislike the reminder.

Aside from being less thirsty than usual, and a bit sleepy because of being on benedryl, Amos seems otherwise fine.  Being so worried, I just made him drink water and then pee and poop so that I could assess his bodily functions.  Wearing a Cone of Shame has Amos a bit cowed, so he's a bit more obedient than usual.  I think he thinks that if he is a good puppy dog I will take it off and throw it away.  I do take it off when we are in the GREEN chair together, but when I am away from his side, I slip it back on so he cannot chew on his tail anymore.

I think it looks better than yesterday.
Maybe.

I actually need two surgeries, but really the esophageal dilation is the first and most needful.  The hiatal hernia repair to keep my stomach in place would be later.  Only the dilation is already later because the gastroenterology department is not even taking appointments at the moment.  Maybe in June ... for an August appointment ... then surgery in the fall.  Until then ... or whenever it is ... I have to adjust what and how I eat to try and keep food from getting stuck and to try and take all my pills with food to try and keep them from getting stuck.

This morning, when the waves of violent nausea began to wash over me, I reached for my beloved Zofran.  However, I couldn't get it swallowed.  It got stuck partway down and did not move itself along to help me.  I wept.

It bothers me that the whole swallowing thing has gotten significantly worse since January, progressing from just pills to food and drink.  And it bothers me that I have yet another problem to manage.  As I have written many, many, many times, I am weary of managing.

Right now, I am weary of managing my fears about Amos, a.k.a The Radiator.  My poor little Fluffernutter.