Cat Boxes...

The boyfriend and I were to celebrate our six-month anniversary this weekend.  I had planned on taking him to the ‘most romantic’ restaurant in the twin cities.  Flowers were delivered to his office on Thursday, and I was also planning on hand-delivering a dozen roses on Friday night.

But, you know what they say about best laid plans…

Oh, all the flowers got delivered.  But the dinner reservations had to be cancelled and I ended up spending the weekend playing nurse and chauffeur, sleeping on the couch, and cleaning his apartment - including changing the litter in his cats’ boxes – something I loathe and had promised myself I would never do. 

I adore his cats, just… not their boxes.

But, yeah, seems life had other plans.

Last Monday, he’d complained about not feeling well.  Tuesday, he thought he had a fever and stayed home from work.  Then night sweats and pain where he had torn his esophagus last October during a bout of food poisoning.  Turned out he’d experienced this same ordeal last September, which put to rest any fears on my part that I may have given him something.  In fact, blood tests on Thursday showed no infection, no virus, and an endoscopy is suggested.

Still, no kisses for yours truly.  That fever worried us both.

I brought him a thermometer on Friday, and he registered a temp of 102 degrees, so I spent the weekend sleeping on the couch, changing sheets, and trying to find things he could consume without too much pain – even water hurt.  Jello, coconut milk and vegetable broth was all he could manage. 

His doctors from Thursday failed to follow-up (they’d also lost his test results and neglected to schedule his endoscopy), so Saturday I suggested taking him to my clinic’s urgent care.  We checked his insurance, and he may or may not be covered, but with a low grade fever with spikes, the pain, possible dehydration and the night sweats we decided to risk it. 

He ended up spending two and a half hours there.  They were good to him, but the doctor, who is baffled, prescribed a type of codeine that the pharmacist informed us is no longer made.  Also the doctor suggested apple juice (we are both concerned about dehydration).  I had nixed apple juice earlier, due to the acidity, but we gave it a try, seeing as how the doctor thought it was a good idea.  It turned out to be too acidic.  Even all natural apple juice proves too painful to swallow. 

The boyfriend then talked to a nurse practitioner from my clinic.  She prescribed him something that actually exists and at 10:30 pm, I found myself walking around a Walgreens waiting for them to find and fill said prescription. 

His spirits only dampened during the frustrations with missing tests, the apple juice, and the defunct prescription: otherwise we had a good time hanging out together.  We watched a couple of movies and talked about playing board games, but he didn’t feel strong enough to sit that long, so no board games – a sure sign that he wasn’t himself.

After he fell into a deep sleep Saturday night, I stayed up late sipping on a martini, googling his symptoms, and watching a film called ‘Short Bus’.   (If you haven’t seen it, seek it out.  It is amazing.)  But I had to pause the movie halfway through, as the boyfriend woke up with a fright.  Night sweats, again.  I changed the sheets, get him into dry clothing – it’s not as bad as before - and he drifted off to sleep almost immediately. 

Next morning… no fever.  We kept checking his temp throughout the day and he remains fever free.  Fingers crossed.  Endoscopy today, at 2:45 pm, so leaving work early.

In the end, the weekend was not a total loss.   I did manage to accomplish the most important thing that I had planned for our six-month anniversary: I told him I love him.

And, it turns out, he loves me, too.

Funny thing about love…

…suddenly, even cat boxes don’t seem that bad.