In which I try to kill the cats and ruin the IVF cycle: maybe I'm not cut out for this motherhood thing afterall.

It has not been a very good 48 hours for medication around these parts.  On Sunday our girl kitty was quite yowly and affectionate, but also sleepy. But she's a cat, and we had a house guest, and a new fish tank, so we figured that was the reason.  Fast forward to 5am Monday morning.  Our other cat, the one who gets odd maladies and can't get immunizations because he gets a pancreatic duct infection and nearly dies (so we stopped doing that years ago), starts stumbling around, yowling and drinking water like he's been locked in a closet.  My husband was up early to catch a flight, and woke me up very alarmed. We called the 24 hour vet, and they made us an early appointment to see our doctor. 

We all stood around and scratched our heads, they took blood, and I brought him home and he was still staggering and to make matters worse, agro. 

He's the alpha cat, but he's a benign dictator (i.e. you done with that? I thought so, scooch over.) but he was starting things with the other cats.  Over the course of the day he mellowed out, his appetite was strong, but I was still worried.  At 8:30 I geared up for pilling, I realized I needed to cut up more aten.alol and there seemed to be a LOT more pills in the bottle than I remembered from the previous morning.  Then in a flash I realized I had given the cats ata.van!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Crap!  We have a very small stash, and it was on the counter in a green bottle, and the pills were similar.  It made sense, I kept thinking it seemed like he was on meth.  Who knew? Benzo's are kitty meth.  I called the vet, they referred me to poison control and I talked to a sweet southern doctor who didn't offer to call animal cruelty to save me the trouble. Apparently this is one of the most common calls they get--benzos and cats. Who knew? No damage done, except to our bank account, and our sense of calm, and my sense of competence.

But wait there's more:

All of this happened before I did my nightly injections. I was, understandably, a little freaked out. After I obsessively did my injections, I left the lupron on the bathroom counter, for 2 hours.  When I was getting ready for bed I saw it and freaked out.  I tried calling free.dom drug, but they were closed (it was the middle of the night! Duh)  I set my alarm for early, and had plotted how to get to and from the local pharmacy and back to my office. Luckily it wasn't the tragedy I imagined it to be. Not ideal, but not a deal breaker.  There are times when I think "I can't believe they let me do this to myself!  Who am I to deal with medications, exactness and the like?"  It imagine that is similar to the thoughts people have when they bring home a baby.   So, the take home message is that I screwed up twice in one day and nothing really truly awful happened. Imagine that?