Back to the Hospital

I took a much-needed nap after the last entry for about two hours. Whew - needed that! When I got up, Butterscotch was still sleeping in the window. I did some stuff on the computer, continually looking at his breathing.

I had dinner and did some other stuff, and at about eight I got him up. I was concerned that he could be slipping while he slept and I wouldn't know it. I sat and held him on my lap again, and he just kept laying back down to sleep. Normally I would love that, and not tonight. I set him on the floor, because I wanted to see if he was weak. It looked like his breathing was labored, which wouldn't be surprising considering he has 1/4 the red blood cells in his body that he should have. He walked over to his littler box and used it. At least he still has organ functioning. However, he then walked about 2 feet and layed down in a place where he never lays. I gave him a treat and he ate it, but not very energetically - he'd normally devour these things until they were gone. I gave him a second, and he dropped it and didn't do a great job of getting it until I gave it back to him.

I needed to see him walk more. I took him to his water and set him down a few steps away. He walked to the water and drank, sitting in an odd position. He didn't look strong. I put some tuna in a bowl near him. He nibbled a bit at it. He then walked into the dark bathroom and layed down between the toilet and the shower, where it's dark. OK, that's it. When a cat goes to a dark place to hide, he's not doing well.

I called the hospital and spoke with Dr. Sartor at 8:27. She said she'd be occupied until 9. I chatted with Paul a bit online, and then washed my face, put on some clothes, and picked up Butterscotch. I didn't even put him in the carrier - I couldn't bear to do that again to him today. I simply held him in my lap while I drove. He normally gets stressed out when riding like this, but didn't say a word until we were approaching the hospital - I will NOT say he didn't know where he was going!

The night receptionist buzzed me in and told me she'd let Dr. Sartor know I was there. I think I'm officially becoming a fixture there. I sat in the waiting room and simply loved up my boy for a few minutes.

Dr. Sartor then appeared with a young woman I assume was a vet tech. She said it would take an hour to cross-match the blood, and then 4 hours to give the transfusion. She then stated in so many words (I don't remember them exactly) that sometimes they have trouble finding a vein for the catheter, and if that happened, we were basically done. I went numb. As I always say, I'd rather know the worst truth than the most unpleasant lie, and I think delivery might have been different.

I held it together until I walked out of the hospital, thanking the receptionist, and promptly burst into tears when I walked out the door. I got in my car, and felt pretty angry that this was happening (yes, I'm noticing my own stages of grief - although in this case it appears to be pre-grief).

I talked to Dale while I drove home and after I got home. I chatted with Paul a bit. Julie called and I spoke with her. I then talked with Chester. I sent a couple of emails to people with whom I have commitments over the next two weekends, sharing my fear that I'd be gone while important stuff was happening. As if this weren't challenging enough, I'm scheduled to be out of town the next two weekends! I know on one level this will all work out, I'm simply challenged right now in that I don't know that it will.

Time, of course, will tell.