My sister Sheila called yesterday to tell me that our younger sister Sally is in the hospital. The diagnosis is potentially multiple sclerosis. She had gone in for a checkup because she was having trouble urinating, and the doctor noticed that her left eye was not lined up with her right. They've checked her for a brain tumor and have more or less ruled that out, but because of other symptoms, the diagnosis seems likely to be multiple sclerosis.
I tried talking to Sally on the phone yesterday, and she seemed whacked out. So I told her I'd call today to talk. She won't find out the results of her lumbar puncture to get spinal fluid until Monday. She's upset because Amber is going to camp for two weeks (medical camp this coming week, Shriner's Camp for the next week), and she isn't there to oversee getting everything ready.
Meanwhile, we're still waiting to hear from our son today. He'll call later after his friend Brian, who is visiting, has left. I chatted with him briefly yesterday, and he seemed to think it was only a matter of days, if not hours, before little Savannah passed away. They have made whatever post-death plans one needs to make for a much-loved cat, but he didn't volunteer what those plans were.
It seems silly to anyone who isn't a pet lover that I should equate Sally's illness with Savannah's. But Sally has a crisis every other week, and she's been through so many diagnoses that it's hard to get too traumatized over the diagnosis du jour. I know a cat isn't on a par with a sister. But I love them both, in different ways. The confluence of the two problems is just dragging me down, down, down. I already feel like crap because of my sinuses, and worry doesn't help.
I'm sure I'll post again once I know something.
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