They Pulled The Rabbit Out Of The Hat

, , , , , , | | Hopeless | May 20, 2019

When my now-husband and I got together, I had one house rabbit who was very much a daddy’s boy; that is, I was his daddy and nobody else! A couple of months into our relationship, we decided to go to the pet shop to look at and pet the other rabbits under the pretense of wanting to get him a playmate. The babies were all adorable of course, and then the staff member asked if we wanted to meet the adoptions.

The last one she brought out was a large doe who was still in isolation and not ready to be adopted. She had been brought in because she was “aggressive” and she had nicks and still-healing bites along her ears. When I picked her up and stroked her, she just melted into my arms.

We returned the day she was available for adoption and took her home.

We were able to guess from her behaviour some of what happened to her. She had serious food and attention issues, and would pester us constantly for attention, as well as my other rabbit once we got them living together. Most heartbreaking was the nightmares; when she slept she would squeak and twitch and jolt out of her sleep, clearly distressed.

About a year and a half ago, we lost the older rabbit, and when she fell into a depression we knew we had to get her a new playmate, no matter how we felt about it.

She’s been with us for approaching six years now, and while some of her issues remain — primarily with food; to this day she’s terrified of not getting enough — the difference warms my heart every time I remember it. She still loves attention but now it feels less like being attention starved and more like her simply being an affectionate rabbit. She and our newer rabbit absolutely adore each other. Best of all, now, when she sleeps, we can still tell when she’s dreaming, but now they’re clearly pleasant dreams; her eyes and ears twitch, and she does the gentle intermittent tooth grind that is the rabbit equivalent of purring. She wakes up slowly, sleepy and happy. She has gone from an animal constantly afraid of losing what she had to one who is simply… happy.

 

A Signed That It’s Going To Be A Good Birthday

, , , , , | | Hopeless | May 19, 2019

(I’m a high-medical-needs child, and one of my conditions is severe tinnitus in one ear and complete deafness in the other. I’m completely deaf in restaurants and public places, because of the noise, so it is very hard for me to order. I am out for lunch on my birthday.)

Waitress: *after taking everyone else’s orders* “Okay, and what would you like, sweetie?”

Me: *no response*

Waitress: “Excuse me?”

Me: *no response*

(Finally, my dad explained my situation, and she signed to me her question. Later on in the meal, she brought the whole staff out, with a free dessert. While the entire staff was singing to me, she signed the entire time. If you are reading this, miss, thank you so much!)

Making You Tongue-Tied

, , , , , , , | | Hopeless | May 17, 2019

I’ve not long turned 19 and I’m working in a fast food restaurant full time while also about to start my second year of college. For the last month, I’ve been complaining of a sore tongue, thinking I have an ulcer, but it turns out to be a cancerous tumour. I’m eventually diagnosed with stage-four oral cancer and have to give up my place in college and work, meaning that while I’m stuck in a hospital bed I have no money to pay bills back at home. When I get home before my second leg of treatment starts, I get a visit from my store manager and the owner.

They hand me one of those massive cheques that are given during presentations, and written on it is my name and a larger sum of money than I have ever seen at any one time.

My coworkers and customers had been raising money for me all the time I was in the hospital — nine and a half weeks — during my operation and recovery.

It made all the bad shifts and horrible customers that had reduced me to tears so worth it.

There’s Acting Nice And Then There’s BEING Nice

, , , , , | | Hopeless | May 15, 2019

(At my favorite convention, I decide to camp out overnight for the chance to enter a drawing that would get me into an autograph session for one of my favorite shows. A miracle occurs and I get in! Later that day, I’m at the signing and get to talk briefly to the cast. The first actress I talk to isn’t new to show business, but is kind of new to the convention circuit.)

Actress #1: “Hi! How are you?”

Me: “I’m great! How are you?”

Actress #1: “Oh, this is great, but I’m a bit tired.”

Me: “Yeah, me, too. I waited ten hours for the drawing this morning.”

(She sort of just stares blankly at me, trying to process this information. It never occurred to me she didn’t know this was how long we had to wait.)

Actress #1: “Wait, honey, where did you sleep?”

Me: “Well, outside.”

Actress #1: “YOU SLEPT OUTSIDE?!”

Me: “Yeah, but we all did. That’s the only way to get into this.”

Actress #1: “Wow…”

(She smiles at me and I move on. The next actress plays my favorite female character other than the lead, and I’m so excited to meet her.)

Me: “It was worth sleeping ten hours on concrete to meet you.”

Actress #2: *takes my hand in hers and smiles* “Love, I would do the same thing. It’s so great to meet all of you.”

(I’m on cloud nine when I meet the next actor. I’m cosplaying as the lead character.)

Actor: “Oh, hey, [Lead Character], how are you? Oh, wait, you’re not [Lead Character]! What’s your name?”

(I absolutely melted, told him my name, and thanked him. There have sadly been a lot of stories of celebrities letting people down and being terrible people, but I feel like sometimes we need a reminder there are some really great ones out there who are genuinely good people who love their fans.)

You’ve Enabled Me

, , , , | | Hopeless | May 13, 2019

Let me start by saying that I am enormously grateful to live in a country that has safety nets for the unfortunate and the ill; without them, I’d be dead. Sadly, the way that the current administration handles applications and treats disabled people is criminal.

Sit tight; this one really sucks (until the end).

I had been called in for my PiP assessment, a test where an unqualified person asks you vague questions and then lies on a form about your answers.

I had to be at their offices at eight am in a city a full hour’s drive from where I live. After getting lost twice because of road work, I finally found somewhere to park and hobbled to the office.

The appointment was a nightmare. The woman clearly wasn’t listening to anything I said and did a “physical assessment” of my condition from across the room without leaving her chair — an assessment which took my specialist, with 40 years in the field, six months and millions of pounds worth of machinery to figure out. By the time she was finally done, I was emotionally and physically drained as I staggered out to the main office, only to be greeted with the news that there were yet more forms I had to fill out.

Once I was finally able to make my escape, I was barely holding it together as I headed back to my car, thinking only about getting home and hiding in bed.

Then, I tried to pay for my parking. It turned out that the only parking structure near their office had had a massive recent price hike, and I didn’t have enough money to pay to get my car.

I was in tatters, guys.

I was in so much pain I could barely stand, I was an hour from home, and I had no idea what to do. So, there I was, a 40-year-old guy with tears on my face, trying to explain to the lady at the other end of an intercom what was going on when a young couple who had, I guess, heard what was going on just rocked up and said, “Don’t worry; we’ve got this,” and paid for my ticket.

It wasn’t a huge amount — £20 — but the simple kindness of those two strangers gave me the strength to get home.

I doubt they’ll ever see this and I wish I’d been in any state to thank them properly for their help, but that gesture got me through that awful day.

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