pica_pica

Man am I ever feeling out of touch. Just out of touch with what is, I guess.

I haven't thought much about that Gimpy scenario. I am somewhat concerned about that as it should definitely be something that is on my mind, and I just can't seem to access it. Perhaps that was just too much.
Emotional meniscus threatening to overflow I guess, so something inside has simply turned off.

Robyn's mom was in town that day. I don't know why, she hasn't come into to town for years. Perhaps Robyn called her for emotional support on Saturday morning when it started to become obvious that Gimpy was not going to make it.

Brief psychological background here. I was adopted. I was only like 6 days old when that happened, so it's not an event I can remember. I do know, however, that there was always a thought in the back of my head as a child that I had been 'gotten rid of' by Mom #1. Then when I was 15, my adoptive mother died suddenly. Exit stage left Mom #2.
10 years later, at 25, I finally meet my birth mother. That experience was terrible and I won't even get into it here. Suffice to say that it felt very much like Mom #1 left twice. I seem to have a problem with losing Moms and I think Dr Freud would have a hayday with this history in terms of my deep issues with abandonment.

Well, for the last 12 years, Robyn's mom was as close as I could have ever gotten to Mom #3.
I emailed her on Thanksgiving, looking for some Turkey cooking tips. She emailed me back a week later when she got back into the country from a trip to England, and it was a friendly email about her trip, and she signed it 'mum'.
That really became my family over the last decade, I was a pallbearer at her grandma's funeral, and I always felt loved.

Well when I got that call from Robyn on Saturday, she was already at the vet, and basically was waiting for me to get there before continuing. (I guess I should feel grateful that she did allow me to be there, she could have shut me out of that) I walked into the vets office and saw her Mom standing there, and was shocked by the stabbing glare she shot at me.

I guess I wasn't expecting any nasty treatment, considering what we were there to do.
Well, Gimpy was wrapped in a towel in Robyns arms, and I brought my hand up to stroke Gimpy's head. Robyn put her down on the operating table and said "let's go" to her mom.
They left the room and closed the door behind them, leaving me alone with Gimpy. I didn't expect that, and I kinda needed their presence.

Gimpy seemed ok, which was difficult. She was just sitting on the towel and purring as I pet her.
"Oh Gimpy, what are you doing? Why didn't you eat something you little nutter? Now look what you've done"

After a couple of minutes, Robyn came back into the room, alone.
"I just wanted to tell you that I did everything I could. I talked to the vet and she said that even if I would have taken Gimpy home on Thursday, it wouldn't have made any difference."
I just looked her in the eye. I didn't say anything. After about 10 seconds of us just staring at eachother, I think she read the disbelief in my eyes and she said
"I don't care if you believe me, but I just had to say that."

The vet and her assistant came in then, and layed the syringe down on the operating table.
I can't write about the 5 minutes that followed that.

6 minutes later, the vet and her assistant left the room and Robyn was holding Gimpy's limp body, I had my hand on her head and I tried to close her eyes. She looked alive still.

Robyn completely broke down with loud sobbing, and that has always been the absolute skewer through me. If anything has the power to grip me so fully, it's Robyn's sorrow. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to hold her. I guess I wanted to be held too, as I was also doing my share of crying, but I couldn't bring myself to crack through the wall she'd built up.
All I could seem to do was bring my hand up to her shoulder and rub her back. That was the extent of my consoling. She started sobbing even louder then, and bent over shrouding Gimpy's body in her embrace.
"I don't blame you." I said.

Then her mom came into the room, and upon seeing my hand on her daughters shoulder, she burst up and pushed me aside. She moved in between Robyn and I and put her back to me. Then started hugging Robyn.
I was so devastated over witnessing Gimpy's death just then, and I guess a part of me was expecting some sort of support here with what is the closest thing I have to a family.
But I was left standing there beside the operating table as Robyn and her Mom stood on the other end of it, oblivious to my presence.
Robyn eventually said "Its ok Mom.." and her mom let go of her, then turned and as she walked to the door she wouldn't even look at me. She walked out of the operating room and closed the door.
I felt very much like I shouldn't be there. I gave Gimpy one last little head stroke, and walked out of the operating room.
Robyn's mom was in the waiting room, and again she wouldn't look at me.
"Are you ok?" I asked her as I walked through.
She shot me a very obvious "don't you even fucking talk to me" glare and looked away.
"fine." was all she said.

I hesitated for a second, then just put on my sunglasses and walked out to go home.
I think that was when the numb set in.