Isn't it strange that we can feel (reaonably) unworried by our own health issues, but the moment an animal or a family member has anything wrong with them, our anxiety levels soar?
One of the dogs is going to have to pay a visit to the vet, having pulled out a patch of hair on his thigh. They both do this ever year when they moult but, this time, the poor dog has a red, raw patch that isn't clearing up, depsite salt water bathing and antiseptic cream. Antibiotics? Anti-inflammatories? He isn't worried about it - other than giving it a good chew when he thinks I'm not watching (he soon finds out that I am!) - but I don't like the look of it.
Meanwhile, the next hospital visit is 5 weeks tomorrow. Yes, the countdown has begun and the anxiety levels are rising for that, too. As usual, this is not because I think they'll find anything. Rather, it's the thought of going to that place whose title insists it's treating me for cancer, even though the people who work there tell me I don't have cancer any more!
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