So Sick

I miss her mightily. Two months now she is no longer a part of my daily life. Today a visit to a urologist yielded a diagnosis of prostatitis and two antibiotics that it turns out I am allergic to. I threw up everything inside me at about four o’clock this afternoon and spent at least ten minutes with the dry heaves. So, I had to call the doctor about it, and new meds will be on their way tomorrow. And I am sick as a dog. She would’ve licked my hand in sympathy, as she did so often, and looked at me with worry in those big brown eyes. And then ate everything I threw up because I was too weak to stop her. But all I am left with is the ghost of her. The memory of her. The illusion that she’s still here to care.