Two days before Christmas. I'm wrapping presents while listening to the dryer. Parents should be calling eightish to let me know they're leaving the mountains and headed my way. Here's hoping I'm ready to go by the time they get here around ten.
Delilah's coming with me to my sister's this year. She far too sick to be left alone. It's hard to believe that this time last month it didn't look like there was anything wrong. Her poor little face is so misshapen on the left side. She has a huge lump under her jaw, and her mouth on that side looks swollen.
She doesn't eat much, but she's still interested in food. I don't think she's in pain yet. It's hard to tell. She definitely doesn't feel well though. She wobbles a little bit if she turns her head too fast. She's finding strange places to sleep--in the closet on top of the hamper, or wedged between the side of the nightstand and the wall. She was sleeping in the craft room for a while, in the middle of a pile of polyfil stuffing she'd pulled out of its bag. She was sleeping on and under it. Made sense to me--soft and warm, but not too heavy. She looked like she was sleeping in a cloud. I would have taken a picture, but I really don't want any visual record of this illness. Going back and reading the blogs entries about it is going to be hard enough.
Sorry for the tone of this post. I'll try to be more cheerful next time.
Off to get some coffee and wrap more presents.