Well, but no. Things can always get worse. We are all still alive... except Whiskers, who was barely alive anyway. She died Sunday night. Here is a picture of her:
When she died she weighed about three and a half pounds. She was just a skeleton. It's for the best.
Meanwhile, to backtrack, on Monday of last week, right after our trip to Redlands for the tortoise show, Rocket Boy went to the doctor and was diagnosed with pneumonia. He stayed home from work, took antibiotics, and slept as much as the twins would allow. But he kept getting worse. So on Friday he went back to the doctor and they plunked him right into the hospital, where he's been ever since. They cultured his spit and discovered, much to everyone's surprise, that he has valley fever.
I've been trying to read up on valley fever, but the many discussions of it on various medical websites are confusing. Valley fever is a fungal infection, nearly epidemic in Kern County. You get it from breathing the spores, for instance during those wonderful dust storms that we had all winter and spring. Most people who get it don't even know they have it, very mild symptoms or none at all, and after that they are immune to its ravages. But the lucky ones, like Rocket Boy, get terribly ill with a lung disease that mimics pneumonia. If untreated it can spread to other organs and kill you.
Anyway, in the time I've been working on this post (it's now Thursday), he's gotten better and come home from the hospital, so onward we go. I probably have it too, the twins probably have it too, but with any luck we won't get really sick.
One more thing to love about Ridgecrest.
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