No more Sunshine

To follow with the depressing theme of cats and birthdays, I have a new story for you all. Now cast your minds back to an awkward grade 6 poggel of a Hannah. Depressing enough, isn’t it? Well things naturally went terribly badly on my 12^th birthday.

A few days before my birthday, I was having a casual sleepover with my biff Kirstin. We did all the normal things like play ‘school school’ and write songs for our band. Get this, I was Sarah and she was Jessica and our surname was Parker. Yep, our band was Sarah Jessica Parker. Anyway we were super excited because the next day we were off on an adventure. We had Girl Guide Camp (you may say we were losers, but we were cool and now we know how to do a fisherman’s knot) and we were bloody excited! The next morning though, we were introduced to a something way more exciting – kittens! When I heard little tiny meows I knew there were kittens somewhere in the house, but I didn’t expect them from my alleged male ginger named Tiger (his/her name was later changed to Tiger Lily). To make it like a treasure hunt, we couldn’t find the stupid kittens in my mess of a room. We later found the kittens in my sister’s cupboard. Kirstin and I were late for camp but it was well worth it!

A few days later, to the entire families surprise, Tiger’s sister Jelly gave birth to more kittens. Jelly however, was the neighborhood slut and she couldn’t be bothered with taking care of her babies. She left them and returned to her normal life. I, being super smart, took the kittens and put them with Tiger in the hopes she would take care of them. But sadly, Tiger refused to care for one very special kitten, a pure black one, that I named Sunshine. She kept moving the kitten away from the rest because she knew she wouldn’t survive. I then took Sunshine as my own. I bought a bottle, the right ingredients for milk and fed the kitten all through the night (jokes, I slept while my mom did all the work).

And then it was my birthday; the most wonderful time of the year. The time when Hannah shines! I LOVE birthdays. I had been blessed with kittens and life was looking up. I remember my mom had friends over for church or something so, being the cave rat that I am, I was hiding from them in my room. I was on my phone #chatterbox when I decided to feed my little Sunshine, only he was cold and stiff and very un-sunshine like. I don’t know why, but I picked the obviously dead cat up, walked into the lounge and told everyone the cat was dead.

While I thought for a very long time that the kitten was buried sensibly, my brother told me later that he popped Sunshine in a shoebox and threw it away. To be honest, I don’t blame them, Tiger and Jelly were very young and basically all the kittens passed away sadly and our garden was terribly small. I still would have found a better way to lay the cats to rest.

Now all you rats out there who think you are bloody PETA ambassadors, don’t come and tell me when should have neutered the cats because we brought cats into the world that had a bad life and we are the reason there are stray cats with no homes and blah blah blah. First things first, our cats were family and we loved them very much and it broke our heart that they died so no; we weren’t animal abusers or anything like that. Sorry, one has to cover their ground because you say one wrong thing on the Internet and you have death threats from trolls saying ‘you are what is wrong with the world’.  

Larry

On 8 May, the day before my birthday, I was treated to the best birthday present a girl could ever ask for…surgery. I had a cyst in my jaw and some horrible and wicked wisdom teeth that had to be yanked out. Of course, this was the only day I could have to surgery because I am a difficult and stupid person. It was fine though, my mom checked me into the hospital, and then left me all alone while she went back to work. Thank the pope the gift store had a wondrous range of magazines…oh wait, they didn’t, they had absolutely NONE. I was stuck with a stupid book about an old lady falling in love, a snoring neighbour and an exceedingly high patient down the hall who they thankfully sent home fairly soon into my visit. To make my life absolutely wonderful, my phone died two hours before I had the surgery.

Once I had been wheeled into the operating ward, I had to lay all by my lonesome for thirty minutes, and I am not going to lie, I missed my snoring neighbour. My life seemed as though it couldn’t get any worse, then I saw him. Possibly the most attractive man in navy scrubs walking around with charts and those kinds of doctor-ie things. When he started walking towards me, I wanted to die. I was wearing a thin gown with no bra, I had bed hair, and I had a poo tooth stinking up my mouth. It turns out, he was my anesthetist. He wheeled me into the operating room and asked me to slide onto the very cold operating bed. He then untied my gown so I ‘wouldn’t choke’. Oh, save me, I could have died. He asked me how old I was and I said “I turn 17 tomorrow”, well I must have looked like an immature little rat face. We then spent half an hour getting to know each other while he poked me in every part of my arm looking for a useful vein. Once he had finally found one, I floated off to sleep. I am not going to lie – it was once of the best feelings in my life.

Now this is where the really cringe worthy stuff begins! When I came around, I was seeing double which was really frustrating. I told Dr. Steamy what was happening and he told me he had put some eye drops in while I was sleeping and that my vision would come back to normal soon. I then said, “well you are beautiful no matter what, and now I can see double of you.” Well I think you can understand why he backed away slowly and never returned. I was going on and on about my birthday and all the cake I was going to get when I heard the nurses trying to wake up the patient next to. Because drugged Hannah obviously thinks she is bloody Superman, I started yelling, at the top of my lungs “LARRY, LARRY, LARRY WAAAAAAAAAKE UP”. The nurses tried desperately to tell me to be quiet but I just kept on going. They wheeled me back to my room as fast as possible.

My mom was trying to help me get dressed and she was annoying me, so I banished her from my room because I was 100% fine. When she left, I tried to stand up and fell straight on my face. Thank goodness the pain killers were fairly strong and I didn’t feel a thing.

I got home, expecting to relax before my birthday, but no, that couldn’t happen. Our house was greeted with three frogs that only I was brave enough to capture. Try and image a drugged Hannah wailing around the house, with a giant ice pack around her head, trying to put ice-cream tubs on tiny frogs while my mother cried like a pathetic, ratchet gremlin. Bloody perfect birthday, don’t you agree?