Bart had some surgery yesterday. The surgery itself was not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but he had to be put to sleep. The ‘putting to sleep’ part has had me freaked out for several months, ever since I was told that would happen.
On the weekend, my mind was consumed with dark thoughts. I found myself studying his face, his smile, his gestures. I had a heightened appreciation for his energy and sense of humour. On Monday night, I didn’t sleep at all. The darkness was overwhelming. When a very sleepy Bart appeared at my bedside at 2AM, I pulled him into bed with me, held him and stroked his hair.
For more than two hours in the waiting room, I aimlessly flipped through years-old magazines. I couldn’t tell you what was in even one of them. I know I had a conversation or two with Homer. Again, no recollection of what we talked about.
This morning, Bart was bouncing off the walls. He thinks he went to sleep to get his superhero powers installed. He was going around the house giving everyone “Hot Fire” to make them do things for him. He’s back and he’s fine.
I am so grateful to be out of that darkness.