Especially when they tell you “if you have the same cold I have, don’t work out until you feel 100% better. You’ll just wind up feeling way worse.”

Felt better-ish Wednesday, much better Thursday morning so I worked out, a bit worse Thursday night, worked out yesterday morning because I thought it was just the morning blahs, horrifying all day yesterday, and wound up going to bed at the ever so hip hour of 8:30pm last night.

And now the Martian Death Cold is back and is much more Martian and Deathy than it was before. Whee!

My immune system tends to collapse when shows come to an end. The sheer stress and insanity holds it together for most or all of a season, and then the second I start to relax, boom.

I remember when Mark and I went to Europe, I’d just gotten off my second season at Ellen and between that and flying from LA to London, I caught a brutal cold that left me exhausted. I remember lying down and napping on the grass in a park outside Les Invalides while he went and checked it out, since I’d been there on a previous trip and Mark hadn’t.

This time it seems to be a wicked but short duration cold that killed my energy for the last few days, killed my appetite until early this afternoon, and will probably keep affecting my voice for another few.

Therein lies the biggest problem: At a time where I need to be making dozens of phone calls to try and get hired on another show, I sound like the harbinger of the apocalypse.

“Hire me! I’ll bring death and destruction to you and all your issue!” is not really the foot I want to put forward right now.

Oh well. I’ve been feeling much better through the day today, so hopefully it’ll clear up by monday when I have to start making all these damn calls in earnest.

Patient: My aunt
Status: Released from hospital
Notes: Significant improvement from when I first arrived in CT. Gnarly scar on her neck from carotid surgery that’s going to be lots of fun to explain to my grandmother, but otherwise on the road to recovery. Has 23 pound cat now providing round the clock snuggle therapy when not eating my aunt and uncle out of house and home.
Prognosis: Long recovery, but good.

Patient: Chaplin
Status: Still in hospital
Notes: They’re going to try pulling his catheter tomorrow to see if everything’s healed properly. Cross your fingers – if everything went well he won’t need any more surgery. Prognosis: Short term unclear, long term he’ll be fine.

Patient: My MacBook Pro.
Status: At Apple store, awaiting part (new Logic Board, supposed to arrive Monday).
Notes: I really, really, really hope they can fix my computer before I leave. I’m going batshit crazy without it as is, and really can’t afford to be without it when I go back because it’s my work computer in addition to my Distraction Provider.
Prognosis: Questionable. But frankly, I’m happy the inanimate object is the worst of my three patients.

More to come as I have it.

I went to visit Chaplin tonight during the animal hospital’s visiting hours, and I’ve come back significantly reassured about how he’s doing. Especially after what happened last night.

After I posted last night, there were complications. While they were trying to cathetrize and manually unblock him, his urethra tore (cue all the guys reading this instinctively reaching for their crotches while sharply inhaling through their teeth).

They brought in a surgeon to give him emergency surgery, and while they did get a tube in to drain his bladder, they couldn’t repair the tear itself because he wasn’t stable enough.

So of course I was finding all this out over about two hour intervals over the course of the night, and I just completely flipped out. I barely slept last night, and I was really upset all day today.

But he seemed to be doing okay when I saw him. They basically have him stuffed into an oversized tube sock with little holes for his front paws to keep him from getting at the area where he had surgery last night. They had to shave a significant portion of his belly fur for the surgery, so that’s going to look pretty funny once he’s out of the sock.

And he is high as a kite. He basically had this look going:

So he was a little out of it, but he seemed much better than he did when I’d dropped him off last night. They told me he already ate an entire can of wet food and was well on his way to finishing a second when I came by.

He will need more surgery – depending on how his urethra does on its own, they’re debating which of two surgeries to do. But having spent an hour with him and listening to the doctors talk about how much he’s improved in the last day, I’m confident that whichever they have to do, it’s going to work.

The numbers they’re throwing around for how much this is all going to cost are just ridiculous, and I’m not even going to pretend that I won’t be going to the First National Bank of Dad for an advance on my inheritance to pay for this.

I prided myself on having been able to get through the last four years without having to take any loans from him, even when I was unemployed for four months of this year. Pride is out the window right now, though, in favor of getting Chaplin home.

The good news is that apparently my aunt’s doing a lot better. I’m trying to figure out a way to get to Hartford for a few days but come back significantly earlier than I was going to, but the way the airlines work it looks like I may have to go for the whole week or not go at all.

All in all, I’m not going to be completely okay until he’s been home for a few days, but I’m at least able to pry myself off the ceiling now. And frankly, that’s a huge improvement after last night.

I thought the earlier barfing incident was just Chap’s usual adventures in hairball-tasticness, but apparently not.

He got really listless and cranky tonight, and after puking IN his litterbox then barely being mobile and crying in pain, I took him to the vet. He’s got some sort of urinary blockage that they’re going to have to surgically remove.

The bill just to walk out the door tonight was $1800. The estimate on keeping him there 2-3 days, which is what they anticipate, is $3000.

As much as that upsets me, what upsets me a lot more is the dead silence in my apartment right now. And that’s why I’m paying the money.

He’s my little buddy. I can’t bear the thought of him not being here when I come home. Not trying to randomly bite my arm off. Not eating me out of house and home.

And frankly I feel bad about how bad I feel about Chaplin, because my aunt, my mother’s sister, is also in the hospital right now.

I haven’t really written about this much, but she had a major heart attack two weeks ago that led to a whole bunch of major surgery – triple heart bypass AND surgery on both carotid arteries. I found out this afternoon she’s probably going to be stuck in the hospital for Christmas.

And yet the thing that’s just destroying me right now is my cat. Physical distance is probably part of it – once I get to Connecticut and see my aunt it’ll probably hit me a lot harder.

But right now, just listening to the clacking of the keyboard and the cracking of the furnace, I miss the crunching of cat food and the yowling at the possum or the other cats that sneak onto the patio.

This is going to be a loooooooong week. Updates on all fronts as I have them.

Ah, the first week of work after a long layoff. Inevitable lack of sleep and exposure to fun new germs leaving me sick…again. The good news is that this seems to be one that’s only affecting my chest and sinuses, and not completely addling my brain like the last cold I had.

The bad news: My nose is running like a leaky faucet. Went through half a box of tissues at work, probably going to wind up going through at least a whole one over the weekend. I’ll be a sight to behold in the crowd at Roller Derby tomorrow, clutching a giant wad of tissues as I cheer hot girls beating the everloving crap out of each other.

For now, I’m going to go hang out with my good friend NyQuil. To quote Denis Leary: “NyQuil, NyQuil, NyQuil, we love you, you giant fucking Q!”

Cold: Yep, still there. Thought it was going yesterday, then woke up to a nice fresh bout of coughing up internal organs this morning. Fun!

Work: Still unemployed. I suppose I should be grateful that I’m not fighting through this nonsense while working, but the financial and boredom situations are both getting a bit concerning.

Terminal Boredom: Yeah, starting to get there. The illness rendering me pretty well immobile is not helping at ALL, but I did manage to watch the entire first season of Mad Men over the weekend, so I’ve got that going for me.

Further updates when either a) something actually interesting occurs or b) I snap and write something totally loopy. Bets on which will happen first can be placed in the comment box.

It’s real amusing that you’re trying to escape my chest, but making me cough so much I lose my voice is not fuckin’ cool. And making me whip suddenly between restlessly full of energy and narcoleptically exhausted is not helping, either.

I guarantee you that I will start feeling better approximately the same time friday morning that I have a previously scheduled doctor’s appointment.

Thanks for waiting until I was in Vegas last night to completely collapse on me. It allowed me to enjoy the vast majority of my vacation without feeling like I was going to cough up a lung.

Made the drive back to L.A. this morning a little miserable, but at least I had a box of tissues I stole from the hotel and a bunch of DayQuil to make it bearable.

Medicinal Chinese food: On its way.

Good News: I was able to drag myself to the gym today and did 35 minutes on the elliptical, which felt great.

Bad News: Then I came home and passed out for four hours, which felt much better.

Hopefully tomorrow I’ll only pass out for 2-3 hours after working out…