So, medically the third day I was here was similar to the first two, slightly lower fevers, 102 instead of 103, 104, slight waking up, eating a tiny bit. People were starting to be a little worried because I had been on the correct antibiotic now for 72 hours and was still having big fevers. All my cultures were negative, however, so maybe I was just really good at getting fevers? The other worry, of course, was that there was a second infection we were not treating or that there was a hidden pocket of the first infection somewhere. For now, however, my fevers were definitely down compared to the previous two days, where each day the high temp went down a degree and I was becoming awake and interactive for longer each day so those were both hard to argue with. The day was spent like the others, left, right, left, right, awake a while, left, right.
I'm not sure exactly which night it was that Agnes Day came to visit me, but I'm going to put it here as it was no later than this night.
For people who find other people's dreams tiresome, skip the rest, but I think this is really one of the most interesting things to happen to me in a long time.
I was at friend's house party sitting on a deck with a bunch of other people and this very elderly and beatup basset hound squeezed up on the planking next to me. Her skin was really bad, like she had a collar that had eaten partway into her neck and she had a tumor sticking out the front of her chest. I petted the top of her head as it was the least unappetizing part and said, "Hello. What's your name?"
"What a great name."
"Thanks. I gave it to myself. People have given me other names, but I've been living on my own for 2 years now so I figure I can name myself."
I touched the tumor on her chest, "What's this?"
"I don't know, but it's sure makes it hard to breathe." "So, what's the deal? I've never met a talking dog before."
"O, there are lots of us. We only talk to people we trust. I trust you. In fact, I'd like to live with you." "Well, I don't know about that. My husband wasn't that thrilled about getting the dog we have now."
"I think he'll agree. I mean, I'm 16; I won't live long and all I really want to do is curl up on the corner of your couch--you do have a couch?" I nod. "Good. And I'll eat your other dog's kibble."
"Well, Agnes Day, let's take you to the shelter--""No way! I don't want to go there! I'm not going there! I thought you were a nice person, but I can see--"
"Agnes, the shelter is just where the low cost vets are. They'll help us get you fixed up. We'll take you to the regular vet for regular stuff, but they wouldn't know how to help you now."
lots of OK's mixed with grumbling.
The vet confirmed that she was, in fact, 16 and removed the tumor telling us it was a cholesteatoma and that it might come back but she could remove it again and again. Agnes is much better appearing at this part of the dream and is even cleaned. I don't think there's any more after this.
She appears once later in the week again for a talk with me which I will tell you about when I get there, and once just very briefly where either last night or the night before, she showed up in some other dream and asked me to thank Terry for all the good kibble he was feeding her.
Is this supposed to mean that my spirit animal is a hyper Catholic, decrepit, talking, bassett hound? Don't other people get animals like wolves and eagles? On the other hand, she is charming and polite and kind of funny. And, as you'll see, she gives good advice.