Boy, Saturday is a blur to me now... I got some stuff done around the house and on my desk. Paul came up and we went out with Adam and Rachel to Sa Bai Thong for dinner. It was a lot of fun, as I was expecting. Rachel and her little sister (as in Big Brothers, Big Sisters) picked out a glass pendant with a cat's face etched in the back, which Rachel gave to me while we were waiting for a table. How sweet!
After dinner we went to see My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Very funny. Just the shift that I needed. Paul and I then watch the abysmal Saturday Night Live, then he took off and I went to bed. Another night sleeping without the boy. Good rest.
Sunday I caught up on a bunch of correspondence, including notes from people about Butterscotch. I also spent some time talking with my friend Kathy, who is putting her 18 year old cat, KC, down on Wednesday. We've made an even better connection of late. I got caught up with my personal accounting, and cleaned my desk off to a certain extent. All immediate stuff is caught up. Feels good.
Then it was time for Butterscotch to see Cynthia. She was thrilled that he's even better today. She shared with me that she was expecting Friday that it was going to be time to put him down. However, he's very bright, eating, drinking, sociable. His face is a bit of a mess with the ulcers, but she said they'd clear up in two weeks. She gave me a supplement made from olive leaf that has antimicrobial properties to be mixed in his food. I stayed for dinner and had a nice visit with Paul & Cynthia.
I returned home and realized that all the meds and supplements are getting a bit complicated. I need to have them very well organized for next week when I'll be out of town. Dale has already agreed to do half the shifts (he needs stuff in the morning and evening), and Cynthia suggest I hire a vet tech to handle the other half. I sat down at the computer and prepared a checklist system in Excel so that each item could be checked off, and initials put down for the shift. Perhaps a bit of overkill, but with multiple people, I want everyone understanding what's going on while I'm gone. In the morning he gets three pills, plus three supplements in his food and 2 homeopathics in his water. At night he gets two pills and one supplement in food. Plus washing his eyes both shifts and putting in eye goop to protect his eyes from corneal ulcers. It looks like a lot on paper, but it goes pretty quickly.
I mixed up his food and some water for his nightly supplements. He's not eating a whole lot because we're reducing the Dex, plus cats get motivated to eat by smelling the food. He can barely breathe through his nose, so he can't smell. I got out the big plastic syringe that Cynthia gave me, and put the food in it. Off to the bathroom we went. I simply put the end in the side of his mouth and squeeze some food in. Most goes in him, some goes on the front of him and some goes on the counter. At one point a little piece of tuna got stuck in the end. I pushed and pushed, and finally it let go—you get the picture: it sprayed all over me and the bathroom. Nice tuna shirt...
New night regimen, per Cynthia. Food, water and litter all go in the bedroom, and the door is closed. She explained to me that cats are nocturnal, and they have to check the territory at night. Too tiring. He slept all night with me instead. At one point he was curled in a ball next to me, and my arm was curled around his back. Very nice.
This morning meds went pretty well, and he ate some of his magic food. Not enough, though, so I'm going to have to do the syringe again before my shower (which is the best time for it...)
While anything can still happen with him, he's definitely turned a corner, and I'm incredibly grateful. We now simply do the treatment and hope the rally continues. If his body can't sustain anything and he goes back down, there will be no more heroic measures. However, I have lots of hope at this point.
Thursday, October 10, 2002
Saturday, October 05, 2002
Miracle Boy
I did get hold of Dr. Wagner by phone. I then remembered that his appointment is 10:30 in the morning, and I have a chiropractic appointment at 10:40! I could leave him at the hospital during that time, and I'd rather not—he doesn't like it there. Somehow the schedule will work tomorrow. We did meds and went to bed. I put him on a couple of towels, in case he pees in bed again. I was exhausted.
I woke up in the middle of the night - probably around 4:30. I'm not sleeping deeply enough. A big wave of sadness came up. Not now—I could stay up grieving all night. Better to rest. Since he hadn't peed before bed, I picked him up and took him to his box. He went, and we went back to bed. Such a good kitty.
The alarm went off at 8:30. I got some sleep; not quite enough. We did meds and I had breakfast. Mom called while I was getting ready, and we had a nice talk. I have a new niece! Chloe Therese Edgar, born to my brother John and wife Lori. Very neat.
I was going to take Butterscotch to Cynthia's before the hospital, but the schedule won't allow this. She said to bring him after.
We went to the hospital. I carry him around on a towel; I think this is more comfortable for him. it's more stable sitting in my lap in the car. He now settles right down and curls up.
Julia, a student, did the intake and then Dr. Wagner joined us. I don't remember much from the consult at this point. They took him back for bloodwork, and I went to the chiropractor. Great appointment; I had lots of stuff out of alignment. Body feels much freer now.
I was half-way back to the hospital when I had this thought/feeling come in of "I don't know how much longer I can do this." Like this is tearing me apart and wearing me down. And it is wearing me down—I'm not resting enough. That needs to change somehow. I realized I was hungry. There's Brennan's. I stopped and got stuff from the deli for lunch. I'll eat it at Cynthia's. While I was looking in the cooler to get a water, a big wave of sadness came up. I thought about the story I tell people during Taking It Lightly, except it was water instead of spaghetti I was picking out. I appreciated the irony of it.
I got back to the hospital. Dr. Wagner, apparently, was on a phone call. I waited for 30 or 40 minutes. Julia would go by every so often and give me a 'just a minute' motion. I was starving at this point, and was getting a bit frustrated. I didn't need a consult, I just needed to get my cat OUT OF HERE. She could call me later. I would have gone to do something about it, but knew it would do no good—they're big about proper channels there. Someone from the pharmacy came out to let me know there wasn't a tech there now to prepare the Cyclosporin (we're out). I said I'd come back this evening to get it.
Finally I saw Dr. Wagner carrying the boy with Julie following, heading to an exam room. By the time she opened the door, I was about to open it myself. She looked surprised, "How did you know I was here? Are you psychic?" "I saw you heading in here through the window." She then said (not sarcastically), "Ok, you're psychic—what do you think his potassium level is?" "Still low." (smile) "It's perfect." She seemed happy and a bit pleased with herself. Indeed, she was "right". It was the potassium. His electrolytes are stable. He's a miracle cat. And I thought back to receiving several emails from the healers, some of whom said, "You should see some changes soon."
Dr. Wagner seemed surprised and a bit annoyed that the Cyclosporin wasn't ready. I told her what the pharmacy person had said. "Well, there were techs there this morning when I put the order in." They've overgrown that clinic and are raising $11 million to build and renovate.
We debriefed for something like a half an hour. I then sprung the boy and drove to Cynthia's. Starving starving. The three of us sat in the guest room while we talked and I ate. I shared with her my feeling of being worn down, and she suggested I not be so vigilant. Get rest. Other good stuff.
I left him with her while I went to work so she could do a session with him. I needed to have a project printed so that others could come in tomorrow to stuff the attendee badges for the tradeshow. I worked, took a nap, worked a bit more. Finished. I then went to the hospital to get the prescription, and got the boy. Cynthia showed me how to put the ophthalmolic goop in his eyes. Since his immune system is suppressed, he's got a couple of ulcers near his eyes and his nose. We need to protect his eyes from corneal ulcers.
I kept Butterscotch in a room with everything he'd need and slept alone last night. Finally, good rest! He's staying quiet today, and clinically he looks better—lots of grooming, eating, etc. I spoke with Cynthia this morning. He's past this crisis, yet he's still very serious. There are three things that could kill him: the original anemia for which he's getting the steroid to limit the immune response, the partial heart failure due TO the steroid, and viral or bacterial infections that have already begun as a result of the steroid and Cyclosporin. It's a balancing act. Similarly, he needs to stay a little dehydrated. If he were normally hydrated, his heart would have to work harder due to more fluid in his blood which leaks into his body cavity. If he were to get too dehydrated, he could die of circulatory collapse. He's on a tightwire. While I feel much relieved that he's past this crisis, I still need to be prepared for him to go any day. Cynthia and I are going to reduce the steroid today. He needs the immune response, and his heart needs a break. Cynthia will deal with Dr. Wagner on this on Monday. <g>
I'm going to futz for a bit longer, spend some time with the boy and go get lunch.
I woke up in the middle of the night - probably around 4:30. I'm not sleeping deeply enough. A big wave of sadness came up. Not now—I could stay up grieving all night. Better to rest. Since he hadn't peed before bed, I picked him up and took him to his box. He went, and we went back to bed. Such a good kitty.
The alarm went off at 8:30. I got some sleep; not quite enough. We did meds and I had breakfast. Mom called while I was getting ready, and we had a nice talk. I have a new niece! Chloe Therese Edgar, born to my brother John and wife Lori. Very neat.
I was going to take Butterscotch to Cynthia's before the hospital, but the schedule won't allow this. She said to bring him after.
We went to the hospital. I carry him around on a towel; I think this is more comfortable for him. it's more stable sitting in my lap in the car. He now settles right down and curls up.
Julia, a student, did the intake and then Dr. Wagner joined us. I don't remember much from the consult at this point. They took him back for bloodwork, and I went to the chiropractor. Great appointment; I had lots of stuff out of alignment. Body feels much freer now.
I was half-way back to the hospital when I had this thought/feeling come in of "I don't know how much longer I can do this." Like this is tearing me apart and wearing me down. And it is wearing me down—I'm not resting enough. That needs to change somehow. I realized I was hungry. There's Brennan's. I stopped and got stuff from the deli for lunch. I'll eat it at Cynthia's. While I was looking in the cooler to get a water, a big wave of sadness came up. I thought about the story I tell people during Taking It Lightly, except it was water instead of spaghetti I was picking out. I appreciated the irony of it.
I got back to the hospital. Dr. Wagner, apparently, was on a phone call. I waited for 30 or 40 minutes. Julia would go by every so often and give me a 'just a minute' motion. I was starving at this point, and was getting a bit frustrated. I didn't need a consult, I just needed to get my cat OUT OF HERE. She could call me later. I would have gone to do something about it, but knew it would do no good—they're big about proper channels there. Someone from the pharmacy came out to let me know there wasn't a tech there now to prepare the Cyclosporin (we're out). I said I'd come back this evening to get it.
Finally I saw Dr. Wagner carrying the boy with Julie following, heading to an exam room. By the time she opened the door, I was about to open it myself. She looked surprised, "How did you know I was here? Are you psychic?" "I saw you heading in here through the window." She then said (not sarcastically), "Ok, you're psychic—what do you think his potassium level is?" "Still low." (smile) "It's perfect." She seemed happy and a bit pleased with herself. Indeed, she was "right". It was the potassium. His electrolytes are stable. He's a miracle cat. And I thought back to receiving several emails from the healers, some of whom said, "You should see some changes soon."
Dr. Wagner seemed surprised and a bit annoyed that the Cyclosporin wasn't ready. I told her what the pharmacy person had said. "Well, there were techs there this morning when I put the order in." They've overgrown that clinic and are raising $11 million to build and renovate.
We debriefed for something like a half an hour. I then sprung the boy and drove to Cynthia's. Starving starving. The three of us sat in the guest room while we talked and I ate. I shared with her my feeling of being worn down, and she suggested I not be so vigilant. Get rest. Other good stuff.
I left him with her while I went to work so she could do a session with him. I needed to have a project printed so that others could come in tomorrow to stuff the attendee badges for the tradeshow. I worked, took a nap, worked a bit more. Finished. I then went to the hospital to get the prescription, and got the boy. Cynthia showed me how to put the ophthalmolic goop in his eyes. Since his immune system is suppressed, he's got a couple of ulcers near his eyes and his nose. We need to protect his eyes from corneal ulcers.
I kept Butterscotch in a room with everything he'd need and slept alone last night. Finally, good rest! He's staying quiet today, and clinically he looks better—lots of grooming, eating, etc. I spoke with Cynthia this morning. He's past this crisis, yet he's still very serious. There are three things that could kill him: the original anemia for which he's getting the steroid to limit the immune response, the partial heart failure due TO the steroid, and viral or bacterial infections that have already begun as a result of the steroid and Cyclosporin. It's a balancing act. Similarly, he needs to stay a little dehydrated. If he were normally hydrated, his heart would have to work harder due to more fluid in his blood which leaks into his body cavity. If he were to get too dehydrated, he could die of circulatory collapse. He's on a tightwire. While I feel much relieved that he's past this crisis, I still need to be prepared for him to go any day. Cynthia and I are going to reduce the steroid today. He needs the immune response, and his heart needs a break. Cynthia will deal with Dr. Wagner on this on Monday. <g>
I'm going to futz for a bit longer, spend some time with the boy and go get lunch.
Thursday, October 03, 2002
Crisis...and Reprieve...for Now
Butterscotch stayed in the hospital for several days. I visited him on Tuesday night. He looked like crap, to be blunt. He was very lethargic, and they said he perked up since I arrived(!). I left feeling grief.
Wednesday I worked for several hours at home. Did lots of grieving this day, pretty deep. Amazing how I can be feeling FULL feelings and be programming in SQL Server all at the same time. I had a coach call with Patricia at 1:30 and felt lots of feelings. She shared her own experience with her cat, Snowball. After the call, I did a search on Google, and sent emails to a group that prays for sick pets, and another group that does distance energy healings. I got several emails back from the second group. Even more support.
I went to the hospital at 6 and paid the current bill, then Dr. Wagner waved me into an exam room to go over the regimen. Wow. Two additional drugs and Potassium Gluconate powder to put in his food, to boost his K+ level. She didn't have time to write up a report for me (they had FIVE emergencies come in that day—that's a lot. Some morning only, some evening only, some both. We left, and I cried on the way home—gee, I'm good at that too. :)
I left him to rest for a few hours and went to Matt's house to have dinner with him and Rachel. Very nice evening. I got back to find him sitting next to Eric in the chair in the bay window. While Cynthia had advised me to go out to dinner, I was feeling a little guilty. Hearing that he'd been with Eric for hours assuaged that feeling.
We did the meds dance and went to bed. He slept with me all night, which he normally doesn't do. His belly felt pretty hot to the touch. He was laying next to me all night, with my arm by his legs. I woke up at about 4:30 to him kicking; I don't know if he was having a dream or what. More grieving. At about 6:45 he was sitting in his sphinx pose, facing away from me. All of a sudden he started peeing on my arm. I got him off the bed and he stopped. Nature's Miracle to the rescue. We then sat in the bay window for a couple hours. Sure looks like time to go. I got hungry at 8, so I go up and set him on the chair. He started peeing again. I grabbed a towel I had and put it behind him to catch most of it. More Nature's Miracle.
I called Cynthia and left a message, then called Dale and somehow managed to tell him that I thought today was the day. Luckily his schedule is light today. (He had already agreed to go with me when it's time to put Butterscotch down.) Eric got up and asked how things were. I told him Butterscotch would likely go today. "To the hospital?" No, be put down. He was incredulous, thinking I should wait a couple of days.
Cynthia called me back, yes we can run over to see her. While I had breakfast, he was begging to go out. However, it seemed at the same time he might be begging to really go. As in leave. I cried harder this morning than I have since I was a little boy. I'm thankful my emotions are running so clearly and open; the grieving will go better. I let him out on the harness for a short while. When I brought him back in his whole body was shaking. I warmed him on in my arms for a minute.
As I walked outside with him, Carol came out of her house; she could tell something was up. I told her it was likely I was putting him down, and she said goodbye. I thanked her for her support, and she thanked me for my sharing. She loves Butterscotch, too.
On the way to Cynthia's I cranked up the heat to finish warming him. I called the hospital to say we wouldn't be keeping the 10 am appointment to get his levels checked. The woman asked if I wanted to reschedule, and I said it was probably unnecessary, as I was likely going to put him down today. She expressed sincere regret—she probably knew him; most of them do. Dr. Wagner called me a couple minutes later, stating that much of his state can be explained by the loss of electrolytes. She didn't want me to put him down. I'd done so much for him, and she acknowledged her own emotional investment, stating that it obviously wasn't as much as mine. I told her that I was open to he suggestion, and that I'd have Cynthia call her in a bit.
Cynthia confirmed my estimation of things when I arrived, and agreed it was time to put him down. Lots of emotion. She then called Dr. Wagner, and the vets went head to head. I could tell from hearing Cynthia's side of the conversation that Dr. Wagner was really really pushing to keep going. The steroid could be causing some/much of this. During the conversation my emotions stopped, and it felt like I fell into a little pit. Cynthia said, "Yes, you went numb." The heart was clear, and then the head came in with contradictory information. I was confused. We are now moving into the decision area I'd thought about all along—where pain goes up and quality of life goes down. Cynthia said there was a compromise: give him subcutaneous fluids and continue the treatment and see if he perks up. No more hospital, except maybe to check levels (too MUCH potassium could kill him). No more heroic measures. Even if he does survive this crisis, he probably wouldn't survive a year.
We gave him 100 ml subcutaneous fluids, and he perked up. She gave me some ibuprofen to fight the strong headache I had. She would stop by later after an appointment to see him. See how he does in the next 24 hours. We went home. He rested quietly in my lap on the drive. I was very quiet, not even turning on the radio. It's important to be very present now.
We got home and his energy level was clearly higher. He ate and drank, and begged to go out. I let him out on the harness, and followed him around. He BOUNDED through the grass. Bounded! He's never done that before! He went down to the gravel lot next door and started eating little rocks. I brought him back. He went to the bushes and began eating dirt. I stopped him. Hopefully it's the Potassium he's craving, and we're giving him that.
I brought him back in, and he did his routine while I ate lunch. Then he begged to go out. I sat in the bay window, and he readily jumped on my lap. We took a nap together for about three hours. Cynthia then showed up. He was clinically much better. She gave him a session while he sat on my lap. He soaked it up. I felt my feelings. I gave him 50 ml of fluids subcutaneously (I can now do that, too...).
He then got up, full of spit and vinegar. Eat, drink, pee. Amazing. And artificial—it's the water and energy, not his own body's process. The decision will be clear: he will either improve or get worse in the next couple of days. I won't continue with subcutaneous water; he wouldn't last on it, anyway.
So, I'm feeling soft and open. Cynthia suggested I not talk to a bunch of people tonight; I am drained myself. I'll do some work tonight, and go to the office tomorrow afternoon. I still have one more week to prepare the database for the tradeshow. The timing is fascinating.
As Cynthia suggested, he's now taking a deep nap. Sitting with Eric. Oh no! I forgot to call Dr. Wagner! Hopefully she's still there. I gotta let her know I'm bringing him in tomorrow for a blood level.
Wednesday I worked for several hours at home. Did lots of grieving this day, pretty deep. Amazing how I can be feeling FULL feelings and be programming in SQL Server all at the same time. I had a coach call with Patricia at 1:30 and felt lots of feelings. She shared her own experience with her cat, Snowball. After the call, I did a search on Google, and sent emails to a group that prays for sick pets, and another group that does distance energy healings. I got several emails back from the second group. Even more support.
I went to the hospital at 6 and paid the current bill, then Dr. Wagner waved me into an exam room to go over the regimen. Wow. Two additional drugs and Potassium Gluconate powder to put in his food, to boost his K+ level. She didn't have time to write up a report for me (they had FIVE emergencies come in that day—that's a lot. Some morning only, some evening only, some both. We left, and I cried on the way home—gee, I'm good at that too. :)
I left him to rest for a few hours and went to Matt's house to have dinner with him and Rachel. Very nice evening. I got back to find him sitting next to Eric in the chair in the bay window. While Cynthia had advised me to go out to dinner, I was feeling a little guilty. Hearing that he'd been with Eric for hours assuaged that feeling.
We did the meds dance and went to bed. He slept with me all night, which he normally doesn't do. His belly felt pretty hot to the touch. He was laying next to me all night, with my arm by his legs. I woke up at about 4:30 to him kicking; I don't know if he was having a dream or what. More grieving. At about 6:45 he was sitting in his sphinx pose, facing away from me. All of a sudden he started peeing on my arm. I got him off the bed and he stopped. Nature's Miracle to the rescue. We then sat in the bay window for a couple hours. Sure looks like time to go. I got hungry at 8, so I go up and set him on the chair. He started peeing again. I grabbed a towel I had and put it behind him to catch most of it. More Nature's Miracle.
I called Cynthia and left a message, then called Dale and somehow managed to tell him that I thought today was the day. Luckily his schedule is light today. (He had already agreed to go with me when it's time to put Butterscotch down.) Eric got up and asked how things were. I told him Butterscotch would likely go today. "To the hospital?" No, be put down. He was incredulous, thinking I should wait a couple of days.
Cynthia called me back, yes we can run over to see her. While I had breakfast, he was begging to go out. However, it seemed at the same time he might be begging to really go. As in leave. I cried harder this morning than I have since I was a little boy. I'm thankful my emotions are running so clearly and open; the grieving will go better. I let him out on the harness for a short while. When I brought him back in his whole body was shaking. I warmed him on in my arms for a minute.
As I walked outside with him, Carol came out of her house; she could tell something was up. I told her it was likely I was putting him down, and she said goodbye. I thanked her for her support, and she thanked me for my sharing. She loves Butterscotch, too.
On the way to Cynthia's I cranked up the heat to finish warming him. I called the hospital to say we wouldn't be keeping the 10 am appointment to get his levels checked. The woman asked if I wanted to reschedule, and I said it was probably unnecessary, as I was likely going to put him down today. She expressed sincere regret—she probably knew him; most of them do. Dr. Wagner called me a couple minutes later, stating that much of his state can be explained by the loss of electrolytes. She didn't want me to put him down. I'd done so much for him, and she acknowledged her own emotional investment, stating that it obviously wasn't as much as mine. I told her that I was open to he suggestion, and that I'd have Cynthia call her in a bit.
Cynthia confirmed my estimation of things when I arrived, and agreed it was time to put him down. Lots of emotion. She then called Dr. Wagner, and the vets went head to head. I could tell from hearing Cynthia's side of the conversation that Dr. Wagner was really really pushing to keep going. The steroid could be causing some/much of this. During the conversation my emotions stopped, and it felt like I fell into a little pit. Cynthia said, "Yes, you went numb." The heart was clear, and then the head came in with contradictory information. I was confused. We are now moving into the decision area I'd thought about all along—where pain goes up and quality of life goes down. Cynthia said there was a compromise: give him subcutaneous fluids and continue the treatment and see if he perks up. No more hospital, except maybe to check levels (too MUCH potassium could kill him). No more heroic measures. Even if he does survive this crisis, he probably wouldn't survive a year.
We gave him 100 ml subcutaneous fluids, and he perked up. She gave me some ibuprofen to fight the strong headache I had. She would stop by later after an appointment to see him. See how he does in the next 24 hours. We went home. He rested quietly in my lap on the drive. I was very quiet, not even turning on the radio. It's important to be very present now.
We got home and his energy level was clearly higher. He ate and drank, and begged to go out. I let him out on the harness, and followed him around. He BOUNDED through the grass. Bounded! He's never done that before! He went down to the gravel lot next door and started eating little rocks. I brought him back. He went to the bushes and began eating dirt. I stopped him. Hopefully it's the Potassium he's craving, and we're giving him that.
I brought him back in, and he did his routine while I ate lunch. Then he begged to go out. I sat in the bay window, and he readily jumped on my lap. We took a nap together for about three hours. Cynthia then showed up. He was clinically much better. She gave him a session while he sat on my lap. He soaked it up. I felt my feelings. I gave him 50 ml of fluids subcutaneously (I can now do that, too...).
He then got up, full of spit and vinegar. Eat, drink, pee. Amazing. And artificial—it's the water and energy, not his own body's process. The decision will be clear: he will either improve or get worse in the next couple of days. I won't continue with subcutaneous water; he wouldn't last on it, anyway.
So, I'm feeling soft and open. Cynthia suggested I not talk to a bunch of people tonight; I am drained myself. I'll do some work tonight, and go to the office tomorrow afternoon. I still have one more week to prepare the database for the tradeshow. The timing is fascinating.
As Cynthia suggested, he's now taking a deep nap. Sitting with Eric. Oh no! I forgot to call Dr. Wagner! Hopefully she's still there. I gotta let her know I'm bringing him in tomorrow for a blood level.
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