Hell Can Always Get Hotter

If there's one thing I've learned from life, it's this: No matter how bad you think things are, they can always get worse. Now, this might seem like a very pessimistic way of looking at things, and indeed, I am a pessimist. However, the key to this, as with most knowledge, is how it is applied. For instance, if life is delivering lemons, there's no cause to despair. Because, having lemons is better than having nothing at all. Down the line, it could be turnips and those lemons may look great in retrospect. So, bitching about the lemons isn't the best move. Maybe I subconsiously feel that mourning today's losses somehow invites more misfortune for the future. If life consistently gets worse, then maybe dealing with the present prepares us for the next bomb to drop.

The point is, I was just bitching and moaning about my lack of finances and acceptable living situation. I was fustrated with myself for not applying my resources more carefully. Boo hoo, woe is me, right?

Well, I arrived at home later that same day and my father mentioned, "Hey, you might want to check out Jiji. He doesn't look too good." Jiji is one of my cats, by the way. So, I went downstairs and he was laying on my bed. When I approached him, he didn't lift his head or meow or twitch his ears or anything. I had to check to see if he was even breathing. I decided that it was time to rush him to the emergency animal clinic.

My first cause for despair came in the form of the estimated cost of his treatment. It was well over a G. I don't have that kind of money just laying around. But, I thought that I should go ahead with the procedure. After all, my cat is far more important to me than money. At this clinic, the billed amount is due in one lump sum and there is only one "payment plan" type of option available. It's a credit card provided by the vet. With my credit, I shouldn't have even bothered to fill out the application.

So, there I found myself with an even larger and inanticipated obstacle to my relocation. I went home with that burden and went to work the next day. I thought, again, "woe is me, boo hoo, life sucks." And then life said, "BWA! HA HA HA HA!" That following night (which would be last night), I returned from casting my votes. My father said that he'd spoken with my cat's vet, who explained that my cat had only a 25% chance of survival. Dad said I should start thinking about putting Jiji to sleep. Great, just great. I was mortified.

Spoke with my vet today though, and heard that the animal may recover and "just another night in the hospital" (i.e. another 500 bucks). I'm terribly happy at the chance that I might indeed bring my beloved Jiji home. But, I'm terribly desperate to find a way to pay this bill.

So there it is. Perspective.