Bump

I don’t always handle stress well.  I am not sure that there are too many people that do.  I believe that a person will most likely do two things when they hit the stress wall hard.  They will either laugh or they will cry.  About 80% of the time I am going to laugh and crack horrible jokes and 20% of the time I will tear up and look like a sad clown with runny makeup.

A perfect example of this happened this past week.  On Tuesday, I noticed a lump in the center of the Dib Cats head.  It looked a little swollen, but it didn’t seem to affect his cat abilities or his feline temperament.  I ask my husband to take a look, to make sure I wasn’t being crazy and that the Dib didn’t always have a uni-brow and I was just now noticing this about the cat.

My husband was adamant that the cat did not come with a uni-brow and that we should call the vet IMMEDIATELY.  A quick call to the Vet and an appointment was acquired in two days’ time, with the instructions to watch the cat to see if there were any changes in energy levels or dietary consumption.  Dib seemed fine with the arrangement and continued to do all the cat stuff he normally does, however my husband was pretty sure that Dib was dying and proceeded to lavish attentions on the cat to savor his last moments. Dib loved every moment of it.  I spent my time joking that the cat was trying to grow a horn and this was just the first step. (I blame a recent trip to the Mutter Museum for this idea.)

By the time Thursday rolled around, the Dib Cat had quite a furrowed brow that made him look like he came out of the Flintstones and my husband was cursing up and down about why we couldn’t be independently wealthy. (If we were independently wealthy, we could have taken care of this on day one and not wait two more days and watch the horn/bump gets bigger was the way of his logic.)  I had spent most of the time trying to keep him calm and assure him that the Dib would be fine.

On the way home from work to pick up Dib for his appointment is when the 20% hit me. For whatever reason, it popped in my head that the bump on Dibs head had exploded like a chest bursting alien and he was no longer in this realm and I was going to discover his remains. My imagination is a jerk at times and I was in a near panic on the way home, because I wasn’t sure how I was going to break the news to my husband that his best friend was dead due to my over confidence.

Getting home, Dib Cat was fine, looked like a unicorn wanna be, but over all he was fine. For that twenty minute drive home I was pretty sure my world was ending and then once it was established that there was no brain parasite in my cat, I went straight back to the 80% laughing at my stress as I monologued to the cat on the way to the vet.  

Dib cat turned out to be mostly fine, other than the fact that his brother, Iggins bit him in the head and it got infected. Dibs dreams of being a magical horned cat were crushed, but my husband was pleased that everything could go back to semi normal and I can go back to my normal stress levels.