All birdies go to heaven. Even flying rats.

On my way to my building's door today I saw a little lump on the sidewalk. My first thought, as always, was, "Please don't let that be an animal." It quickly became apparent that it was a pigeon. Not moving. I was upset. But as I passed it, the pigeon slightly moved his head and looked up at me, his eyes pleading, his beak bloody, his side scraped up. My insides crashed. I knew that I probably should mercifully kill the bird, but I have never had the heart to do anything like that. I just can't knowingly kill something.

It was just outside my building, so I went inside and immediately began sobbing and praying aloud for mercy on the bird, stumbling up the steps to my flat. I got online and my sister was there so I told her what was up. We quickly figured out I should call the RSPCA. So I looked on their site and called their rescue line, still crying.

They were so helpful, and took the information. The first thing they asked me was whether I could take the bird to a vet. Unfortunately I couldn't because I couldn't take the poor thing on a bus in that state and probably could not have emotionally handled it anyway. So they said they'd send someone to help, and could I please put on some gloves and find a box to put the bird into so they could take it from out front. I said I'd try.

So I basically threw all of my winter clothes all over my flat and found my gloves, a box and a flat bit of cardboard and ran downstairs. I got out there and the second I opened the door the little bird looked right up at me. He looked me right in the eyes and it just cut through me. I just wanted to help him SO much.

So, while rush hour traffic is backed up at the light in front of me, I put the box down next to the bird. He stirred, but I couldn't quite get him in the box and I was scared to pick him up in case I hurt him more. So some poor man who happened to be passing by himself saw me. I just looked up at him, still crying, and said, "Please? Please can you help me?" He must have thought I was totally insane helping this dead pigeon, so I said, "It's still alive! I've called the RSPCA. Please can you just help me get it in this box?" And the guy was so shocked and nice that he totally helped me. I thanked him about 5 times and then I got the bird settled a little in the box.

He never took his eyes off me. And as I pulled the flaps over him a bit so he could have a little more peace he actually let out a little cheep. So then I REALLY lost it and was crying harder as I set the box down really close to the front door and went inside.

It's hard to see the front of my building from my window, but I watched in the reflection from teh building across the street. Jack snuggled with me while we waited. And after a little while I saw a white van park along the curb and a woman get out and look at the box. So I ran downstairs and she had taken the box into the back of the RSPCA van. When she came around I shouted, "Thank you for coming so fast!"

She said it was bad and she was going to put him to sleep so he didn't suffer. That comforted me. He wasn't alone. He wasn't slowly dying on the noisy sidewalk. Some people cared enough to help. So I thanked her again and came back upstairs.

I remember weeks ago, Jack was fascinated watching a pigeon make a nest on our roof. The bird kept flying back and forth in front of our window. We figured she must be nesting. I wonder if this was a failed first flying lesson. The bird wasn't particularly little, but my sister has pigeons who nest near her window and she said they are basically full size quickly and look like adults when they learn to fly.

I have so many memories of Andrew doing heroic things for wild animals, and those gave me a lot of strength to help the pigeon. I know they're 'flying rats' and everything, but it doesn't matter to me. No creature should have to suffer. I just hope I helped him not feel so alone.

One other comment. When I asked my friend Tori to help me with a title for this entry, she said, "The story is only depressing the way you think of it. In this life he couldnt fly, but now he can." Sweet, huh?

Man, I feel like a woman

You know how women are supposed to embrace their menstrual cycle and write poems about the moon and so on? Well, bollocks. I'm glad to be menstrual, don't get me wrong. I wouldn't want to NOT have a period, especially since I was like 16 before they started and pretty sure I was going to be infertile.

But still. There are certain things it's hard to feel thankful for. Like cramps. And vomiting spells which I rarely get at the start of my cycle. Oh thank you, mother nature, for making me feel like I'm going to puke all day long. I will likely be over the toilet for a few hours tonight and may or may not make it in to work tomorrow. Joy.

Bedside manner

Nearly every time I visit the doctor I come out feeling like an asshole. They treat me like some kind of hypochondriac loser who is wasting their time. Like today I went in to ask about a few things since I'm moving in a couple of months and won't have insurance in the US for a while.

I first mentioned that I feel symptoms of another fibroid. I had surgery about a year and a half ago to remove one and wanted to follow up on this in case. The guy looked at me like I was such a loser! He might as well have said, "What do you expect me to do about it?" That was certainly his attitude. Basically he said there's nothing to be done and it won't affect my fertility (which is not what I've heard from other sources). Unless it's worse than it is and causing more serious trouble (the last one gave me a pretty much non-stop period) there's nothing to do.

Telling me there's no treatment needed is fine, but patronising me in the process is not necessary. I happen to know quite a bit about my own body and how it works.

Then I mention a few questions I have about my depression and anxiety. Again, I get a lot of "there's nothing to be done" answers but couched in a "Why are you wasting my time?" attitude. Fucks sake, dude! Maybe because I have severe depressive disorder and want to ensure it remains managed while I move overseas. Douchebag.

I nearly always leave the doctor feeling like shooting myself in the face. I'm frustrated, and inexplicably embarrassed every damn time. This is why I put off making doctor appointments. Who wants to go be patronised for 20 minutes?? I just wind up feeling like I did something wrong by going to the doctor.

Honestly, I love the NHS and it's been great to me, but the bedside manner of a lot of these GPs sucks.