“A goat’s bite is poison.”
My granddaddy used to say this on the farm. The last few months it’s been one goat bite after another. Nothing heinous. We’re not being mauled by bears. Just bite after bite after bite.
When Rich went for his immunotherapy treatment on May 6th, he called me and I could barely understand him. He had an allergic reaction to the treatment and it was making him convulse. He couldn’t even hold the phone. It passed in an hour and he was able to soldier his way home by midnight but it was very unpleasant. Bite.
But hey, we would just pre-treat with Bendadryl on the next visit and he should be fine. Except they did pre-treat and he still had a reaction yesterday. It wasn’t as bad, but he still spiked a fever, had the shakes pretty bad, and his heart started racing. At least he could use the phone this time. Bite.
Meanwhile, his flight was cancelled so I had to re-book him for a flight today. All he wanted to do was go home and instead he got to go to a hotel in the pouring rain. Bite.
The entire month of May, Rich has also been getting fevers every evening. Nothing extreme. 100F or less and they go away in three hours. But it’s every. Single. Night. Bite.
Rich’s shoulder is still frozen. He can touch the back of his head and reach his wallet now but he’s still a long way from swinging a sword or hockey stick. He still needs pain meds to sleep. Bite.
The pool pump died so we have a 27′ duck pond versus a pool right now. Bite.
On May 5th, during an attempted run in Georgetown I felt something go “pop!” in my right foot. After several trigger release therapy visits I’ve finally gone to the sports doctor. I have a partial tear in my plantar fascia so I have to wear a boot for three weeks and then do a month of physical therapy. Two more months before I can run again. Bite.
I came to work last Monday (the 18th) and my beta fish Bruce was in very bad shape. I spent an hour changing out the water in his tank and putting him in a fishy ICU. I almost flushed him at several points but he kept moving. I know he’s just a $10 fish, but I’ve really enjoyed his company since I got him in January and I was not looking forward to his demise. I worry about him every day. Bite.
I have paid $600 to EZPass (because it was cheaper than going to jail), $500 in car taxes, $600 in insulin pump supplies, and many other little random payments for things I don’t even remember. Between my shoulder and Rich’s foot, we’ve been paying $160 a week to the trigger release therapist. Nibble, nibble, bite.
Ian has been regularly sent to the office at pre-school for “not listening.” Some of it is legitimate obnoxious five-year-old behavior and some of it is just normal kid stuff. But I’m really tired of these super serious conversations with the principal about how he will perform next year in kindergarten if he’s climbing up the slide instead of sliding down it. Really. Don’t. Care.
I emailed Daddy to get confirmation on Granddaddy’s saying. I surmised the phrase was because the goat was relentless. I kept thinking of the analogy that a goat has been chomping away at us for a very long time.
But he wrote back and said he called it “persistence.” That gave me pause. All day I had been thinking of all these little injustices as the goat’s bite. Really, the goat is continually chomping away at little things to feed himself and survive.
I got Rich first class tickets for his trip home today. Bite.
Rich’s shoulder is healed enough that he can fight spear. That means he can fight at Pennsic. Bite.
I found a replacement pool pump for $150 and it arrives Saturday. Bite.
The boot is warm but it actually makes my foot feel better. And I still have plenty of time to train for my half marathon in November. Bite.
Ever since that first day, Bruce the fish has been rallying and continues to swim around his little tank. Bite.
We paid off the minivan this month and I’ve found several big ticket items to sell. Bite.
Ian finished his last day at preschool on a high note and was hilarious and clever at the dentist this afternoon, including helping them take my x-rays. Bite.
If we could find a goat to bite through belly slime, we’d be set. But we’ll just keep nibbling away at things with persistence.