My neglected children

I feel like my blog has become my neglected child. I used to write something here almost every day and most of my posts were funny or insightful or at least somewhat interesting. Now all I do is bitch and whine and complain. Part of it is depression. My psychiatrist has been trying to adjust my meds to make that better, but when the higher dose of Wellbutrin made me manic, I had to go backwards. I'm on a lower dose of Wellbutrin than I was before he decided I needed more. The depression is worse.

The last couple of days I've been working on my cancer memoir. I started it almost 2 years ago and intended to make it a book, but I abandoned it during treatment because I felt sad and alone and writing about it only made it worse. About a month ago, I decided to take what I'd already written and try to turn it into a personal essay. Now I'm writing all the details of everything I can remember. I just have to get through it then decide what to do with it. I read part of it to writer's group last night and they really liked it.

Speaking of neglected children, Thursday morning I had quite a rude awakening. I woke up early and was trying to decide whether to get up and go to the bathroom or just try to go back to sleep. I rolled onto my back and suddenly realized the bed was wet.

I thought I had peed it again (that happened several times the first year after my cancer staging surgery), but I always woke up before I finished and it felt warm and wonderful. This time, it was cold. It had been raining so I thought maybe the roof had leaked. But no - it was cat pee.

Lizzie and Megan both peed on my bed the first day I brought each of them home. They didn't know where they were supposed to go. When I caught them in the act, I put them in their litter boxes and from then on, there were no more accidents.

If one of them had peed on my bed Wednesday night, something must be wrong. Possibly a bladder infection. Then I remembered - writers group was at my place Wednesday so I moved the litter box to my bedroom. I moved it back to its regular location right after the meeting but ...

I had a hunch and sure enough, I had returned the litter box to its rightful corner but backwards. The hood opening was up against the wall so the cats couldn't get into it. Judging by how wet my bed was, my poor girls held it in for a long time before one of them peed on me.

I had it coming.