11 May, 2008
Simon Sunday: Grace
I love to have fresh flowers in the house and every Sunday, when I make my weekly grocery shopping trip to Trader Joe's, I pick up one of their mixed bouquets. Now, because Simon likes to sample, well, everything, I make sure that the flowers are kept in a place he cannot access and I keep an eye out for wilting flowers so I can slip off the petals before they fall off. Occasionally, a lily petal will fall onto the floor, but Simon has never bothered with them.
Until Thursday.
I came home from work and noticed some orange lily petals on the floor and picked them up. I didn't think too much about it. I fed Simon and Billie their supper while I got ready to go to the SFlickr meet up. When I got home and was getting ready to crawl into bed around 10:30 p.m., I noticed that Simon had horked up part of his supper. As I picked it up and threw it in the garbage, I noticed the standard hair and a couple of bits of orange somethingorother in it. As I was cleaning off the bed spread and getting it ready to put in the laundry, it dawned on me: Those orange bits must be lily petals.
After consulting the first aid manual, I phoned Bay Area Veterinary Specialists, the emergency clinic in San Leandro, and spoke to them briefly. Part of me really wanted to think that, like the previous incidents with chocolate, Simon would just get away with nothing more than a dickey tummy. After all, he was still acting like his whacko self and was still eating. But something inside me compelled me to get dressed and take him in. So, at 11:00 p.m. we walked through the door to the emergency room at BAVS. A vet tech took him in the back while I sorted out the details at the reception desk. After a while, the veterinarian on duty spoke to me and told me that they needed to give Simon activated charcoal (which is horrible-tasting and must be force-fed) to soak up the toxins and also put him on IV fluids to flush his system. Hopefully, this all would head off any kidney damage (or failure) that can be caused by ingesting lillies. She let me go into the back to say good-night to Simon. My poor baby was absolutely terrified and as soon as I leaned over him on the table, he crawled into my neck, wanting his Mom to protect him. The vet tech had his blanket spread out on the table and said Simon was being a very good kitty and seemed to be somewhat comfortable with him, given the circumstances. At this point, I was crying, my tears soaking Simon's fuzzy little head. "I'm so sorry, baby," I kept saying.
The doctor gently told me that I needed to go to the front desk to sort out the estimate so that they can begin treating Simon, so I kissed him good night. The vet tech, instead of holding Simon on the table, pulled him gently into his lap and soothed him, which made me feel a tiny bit better about leaving him.
The estimate has a low end and a high end and I had to pay the low end as a deposit before they would begin treating him. Both estimates were in the 4-digit range. I said a quick prayer of thanks that 1) the bank had upped my credit limit a couple of weeks ago and 2) that, despite the huge hole it would blow in my savings account, I could still cover the high end of the estimate. Driving home, I nearly had to pull off of the freeway two or three times because I felt so nauseated. When I got home I pulled the rest of the bedding off of the mattress and dragged my down comforter over. I lay awake until the alarm went off at 5:40 a.m. I phoned the clinic around 7:00 and they said he was doing well and that I could call back around 10:30. I asked if I could visit him and they told me to come by any time. As you can imagine, I was an utter wreck at work. I tried hard to concentrate on TASKS, anything to get my mind off of my poor, terrified kitten who was in this situation because of my stupid need to have stupid fresh flowers all the stupid time. I got some critical tasks done and managed to get my trip to Los Angeles rescheduled from Monday to Thursday and then I called the clinic before leaving for the ferry.
I spoke to one of the vet techs (Rita, I think...I wish I had gotten *all* of their names, they all are so wonderful). They were going to send Simon's blood work out for another look-see because the doctor had seen something "a little off" in it. Also, they discovered a rather significant bacterial infection in his bladder, so they put him on antibiotics for that. That last bit of news knocked me for six: Simon had shown no indication, whatsoever, that he had any kind of urinary tract infection. Rita told me to visit Simon any time. So I headed for the 12:15 boat back to Alameda. I dug out Simon's favourite catnip bear, which he had torn a hole in and it was hemorrhaging catnip, and did a hasty repair job so I could bring it with me. 
I spent about an hour and a half with Simon Friday afternoon. At one point, he had crawled behind me on the bench and then suddenly reached over and yanked on his catheter, spraying a bit of blood on the wall and dripping some on me as I carried him into the treatment area to tell them what happened. When the techs tried to look at the catheter, Simon got really frightened and peed on me. I cleaned myself off while they replaced the catheter and wrapped the works in the orange smiley face bandage you see in the photo. They brought him back into the room with me for a little while longer and I settled him into his favourite polar fleece jacket where he finally slept comfortably (that's the photo at the top of the post). It was time for him to go back on his fluids, so I left. I came back later in the evening to say good-night and to bring a bag of his food to see if he would eat (he wasn't eating for the vet, which wasn't surprising considering how frightened he was). I didn't have any luck getting him to eat, but he did at least sniff at the kibble I brought, which was encouraging. The tech said he was doing really well and answered my question about the blood work (the vet had noted a low platelet count and that's why it was sent out for another look). Simon didn't really look or act like a sick cat. Scared, but not sick. However, with kidney problems, it can take a while for the symptoms to manifest, so they wanted to keep him hospitalized. Again, I kissed him good-night and headed home to watch Battlestar Galactica, a diversion I so desperately needed along with having my friend Stephanie here.
Saturday, I went straight from my chiropractor appointment to the clinic. When I phoned earlier, they said his blood work came back "unremarkable", which I took as good news, and that he was keeping hidden in his bed (the tech Friday had mentioned that he had been too frightened to come out of his bed to use the litter pan and was peeing in the bed). When they gave him to me, I noticed that his stomach and hindquarters were, uh, damp. I just wanted to cry: my poor little boo was so scared he was peeing himself! This is the same cat who is the litter box champion! He had never, ever, in his life eliminated anywhere BUT the litter box. I was just sick that he was so distressed that he wouldn't leave his bed to pee. I scooped him up in the towels they brought in and tried to clean him off a little. He took over and I just let him sit on the floor and groom for a bit. Then I pulled out the baggie with some of his kibble in it to see if I could get him to eat. He actually ate several bites before some loud children in the neighbouring exam room put him off. I spent a couple of hours with him and he got progressively more relaxed, and even started being the Cheeky Monkey, jumping up on the sink counter, even after I told him he was not allowed up there!
When the vet came in to speak to me, I leaned pretty heavily on her to let him come home. However, she said that, while his blood work was really looking good and he seemed to be doing very well, they really needed to keep him one more night and do one or two more blood tests to make sure his kidney values were stable and to keep flushing his system with fluids. I snuggled with him for a few more minutes before handing him to the tech and promising to come by to say good night.
I returned about 8:00 p.m. but had to wait a while before the visiting room was available, so I didn't see Simon until 8:30. This time the lines were attached to Simon's catheter which was kind of a shock for me to see and it drove Simon nuts to be dragging them around whenever he tried to walk anywhere. But we dealt with it and I just let him do his thing. He groomed for a while, then I put his dish of kibble down and he went at it, which made me so unbelievably happy!
He groomed for a few minutes before deciding that he really wanted me to sit on the floor with the polar fleece jacket so he could climb inside and rest. While we were down there, the vet on duty, Dr. Jones, I think, came in. While I was impressed with everyone I met at the clinic, this vet totally won me over. He not only answered all of my questions (and was very happy to see that I got Simon to eat), but, rather than towering over us while we talked, he crouched, then sat, on that cold, tile floor next to us. When he got up to leave, he said, "Stay as long as you like. He's obviously way happier where he is right now!" About an hour later, the vet tech came in and said it was time for Simon's antibiotic treatment and he should go back on his fluids. I kissed his head and told him we just needed to tough it out for a few more hours and then he'd come home.
On the way to the car, the migraine that had begun percolating hit me with full force. By the time I got home I was feeling very ill and, in desperation, took one of the Vicodin that I got when my back went out last October. I had also gotten a call from my friend who was in the area and figured I could use a hug. So he came over and sat with me and we talked about photography and cats and work while I waited (and waited) for the Vicodin to at least take the edge off of my raging headache. I fueled my friend up with tea for his drive back to the South Bay and, by the time we said good-night, my head was finally clearing up. The Vicodin also helped me to sleep for the first time in a couple of days. In fact, I was still really groggy this morning when I forced myself to roll out of bed so I could call the clinic at 8:40 a.m. to see when I could come get Simon.
"He's ready to go!" said Simone, at the clinic. I tried very hard to not SQUEE with delight, in her ear.
I hurriedly showered and dressed and stopped to get an Americano at the Starbucks inside Safeway and flew down I-880. I now know the way to BAVS like I know how to get to my own apartment! I settled the final bill and waited while they tried to find his carrier and blanket. It turns out the blanket ended up in their laundry, so they sent him home with a sheepskin and promised to call when they found his blanket (which they did, this afternoon).
As soon as Simon came home, I got him to eat some more food and then he wandered over to Billie's dish and made a half-hearted attempt to steal some of her food. But his appetite isn't what it was before his ordeal. Since he does eat (and hasn't horked any of it back up, so far), I'm not too concerned that he no longer inhales food. If his appetite drops off significantly, then I'll worry.
We spent a long Sunday afternoon with Simon napping on my lap while I watched a movie and snoozed. At one point Simon and I got a card and some toy mice from another one of our amazingly wonderful friends. I got him to eat some more supper and discovered he has a new hiding place--inside the box springs of my bed! He's slowly settling back into his home and feeling secure again. I have to give him antibiotics twice a day for a while and he's got some shaved spots on his legs where the catheter was and where they took blood and I'm trying to get him to not worry them so much that I have to bandage them up again. I pray that the only lingering effect of this ordeal is the one on my bank account and that Simon gets back to his regular crazy mouse self fairly soon. I'm still bewildered about the UTI and how I had no clue about it (I always know when Billie gets one because she is a major Drama Queen about it). And as awful as it was that he ate highly toxic flowers, I wonder if, somehow, that action might have saved his life?
It's a lot to think about: Instead I think I'll go snuggle up with Simon and just be so, so grateful that he and Billie are safe at home with me, this Mother's Day.
Labels: Billie, cats, furkids, grace, gratitude, sick, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 11:04 PM ~~ 1 comments
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09 March, 2008
Simon Sunday: It's Been A Long, Icky Week
I think I took this Tuesday morning, before I packed myself off to Kaiser because my throat felt like there were 10,000,000,000 fire ants attacking it. Simon looked so gorgeous in the sunny window but I had the lensbaby on the camera and I knew there wouldn't be time to switch out lenses, so I did the best I could with it. It actually turned out pretty good, I think (I'm still getting the hang of using the lensbaby).
Thankfully, the strep test came back negative, but I've had a nasty cold all week. As always, Simon and Billie have looked after me well and Simon made sure I got plenty of bed rest (and snuggles). He has this "thing" where he'll get me to follow him to where he wants me to go, looking over his shoulder every couple of steps to make sure I hadn't gotten lost. Usually, the destination is the kitchen, but more often than not this week, he'd lead me to the bedroom. There were a few times this week where he wanted me to go back to bed but I wanted to stay at the computer for a while longer. When I'd try to adjust him on my lap, he'd nip my hand in frustration. Looking over at him now, he's crashed out in front of the window, as exhausted as I am from the all-night coughing fits and congestion and my constant shifting in bed because my throat hurt so horribly. No doubt he's also exhausted from being so disciplined all week and not taking advantage of the fact that my voice was gone-daddy-gone and I couldn't yell at him. (After a week, my voice is finally starting to come back on line, but I can only manage to squeak at the cats which brings on a new coughing fit...if they could, they'd laugh at me, I sound so ridiculous.)
To add to the chaos, we started Daylight Saving overnight. As usual, Simon just slotted right in and was ready for his breakfast at New7:00 a.m. And, as usual, I'm rather less than enthusiastic about DST (it sucks ASS). I'm just hoping Simon doesn't repeat his DST error of a few years ago when he "sprang forward" an hour every day for nearly a week. The 3:00 a.m. breakfast calls were not the least bit amusing.
Labels: cats, furkids, photography, sick, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 1:31 PM ~~ 0 comments
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05 March, 2008
That Explains The Commotion
Simon and I were awakened from our nap by shouting and horns honking and the sound of a helicopter overhead. Turns out there was a mass student walkout by students from Encinal High School (Hi D!), protesting the huge proposed state budget cuts.
California's budget is seriously fucked up and I don't see a way out of it where a lot of deserving and in-need people won't get hurt (since Republicans stick their collective finger in their ear and cry "LA-LA-LA! I DON'T HEAR YOU!" any time a tax increase is mentioned).
I wish those kids good luck with their protest, though I'm not sure where else cuts could be made (administration, maybe?) where learning wouldn't be compromised. As it is, they're planning to increase class size which, in already overcrowded classrooms, IS going to hurt students.
Labels: in the news, sick
~~ victoria on 12:40 PM ~~ 0 comments
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04 March, 2008
Poor Me!
I'm sick. I tried for a couple of days to pass of the fatigue and really sore throat as the neighborhood tom cat yowling all night and allergies. Last night (and today), there was no more denial: I'm sick. I packed myself off to Kaiser this morning because there's been some nasty, nasty bugs going 'round the office and I want to be sure it wasn't that or strep throat. I wasn't running a fever when I went to the doctor, but all day long, as warm as it was here, I was freezing my arse off. Drinking tea and water is challenging because that requires being upright--and my body does NOT want to be upright. I made a pot of veggie and wild rice soup and am now pretty much too worn out now to eat a bowl of it.
I know this shall pass and Simon and Billie are taking good care of me, but gaaaaaah! Even my hair hurts right now!
I'm going back to bed.
~~ victoria on 7:25 PM ~~ 0 comments
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03 February, 2008
Simon Sunday: My Faithful Feline Nurse
I've been battling a cold for the last few days. Nurse Simon has stuck by me the whole time, making sure I'm adequately snuggled.
Labels: cats, furkids, sick, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 1:09 PM ~~ 0 comments
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12 August, 2007
Simon Sunday: We Iz Tired
Simon and Billie have reached Detente long enough that they can simultaneously cuddle with me this weekend while I try to deal with whatever the hell it is that has laid siege to my sinuses.
Evidently, it takes a great deal of hard work for them to NOT fight with each other; they're both zonked out.
Labels: Billie, cats, furkids, sick, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 2:25 PM ~~ 2 comments
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03 January, 2007
Well, that explains the fatigue
The sudden and insatiable craving for salsa and/or tomato-based pasta sauce was the ultimate clue that I have been fighting a cold.
The cold won.
~~ victoria on 7:10 AM ~~ 0 comments
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16 December, 2006
Lesson
Often, I'll have conversations with people where they talk about having to learn to be with themselves. Most often these observations take place after they've had a break-up and they're transitioning from a partnership to life as a single person.
I seem to have the opposite problem: I'm having to learn how to be with other people. I don't mean this in the sense that I can't go out in public; I don't have a social phobia (though I do get uncomfortable if I'm in really large crowds). It's much more, I don't know, intimate, I suppose.
My recent bout with food poisoning (or stomach flu, possibly) is a perfect example. As I was riding the ferry into San Francisco on Thursday, I was telling my friend about my illness and how I foolishly dragged myself to the grocery store (twice!). I suddenly realized that I didn't need to do that. I have friends who offered to go to the store for me and I could should have thanked them and given them a list and some money. I know that I would not (and have not) hesitate to come to their aid, when they need it. I really need to learn to let go and let my friends in.
I promise I'll do better next time. (Though I hope next time is a really really long way off!)
Labels: friendship, navel gazing, sick
~~ victoria on 9:04 PM ~~ 0 comments
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12 December, 2006
Things I didn't know about food poisoning
Getting over this weekend's bout with food poisoning is tough slogging. I assumed that, once the seriously violent episode was over, I'd feel like shit for a few hours, or maybe a whole day, and that would be it. It was that thought, while hunched over the toilet for hours and hours, that kept me from just dropping my head in the toilet and doing myself in.
I was mistaken in my assumption.
Evidently, besides the offending supper, I flushed my entire life force into the septic system last weekend. On Sunday, I couldn't stand or sit for more than a few minutes without getting shaky. It took me nearly half an hour to get the cats fed because I had to stop and sit down constantly. The seriousness of the situation hit home when I realized that I didn't even have the strength to hold onto a book to read. Other than the times when I had to get out of bed, I could not move from it all day. If I made it to the living room, I had to stop and rest in the computer chair, unless I could make it to the couch.
Monday saw a tiny bit of improvement. I was finally able to get the cats fed in a timely manner and was eventually able to remain upright long enough to take a shower. But then I did something rather foolish (this is a pattern with me, as you'll see): Rather than take my friend Gary up on his heroic offer to go to the store for me, I went to the local market myself. I figured it was small enough that I'd find what I needed without having to wander through the 20,000 sq. ft. or so of Safeway or Albertsons. Also, I was desperate to get out into some fresh air. That trip pretty well did me in for the day, though I was able to sit up for a good portion of the afternoon.
I read Jane Austen's Persuasion. I was so happy that I could at least hold up a book that I didn't want to put it down. I read Volume One and half of Volume Two last night and then finished the book this morning.
I spoke to my boss at work yesterday and, having suffered food poisoning herself, she thought I should plan to be out today (Tuesday) as well. I hung up planning for that, but hoping that, if I could just eat some Jello for supper, that it (and the odd blue Gatorade I had been drinking) would push me along the road to recovery enough that I might just be able to make it into the office.
Because I had not been able to enjoy my morning mug of English Breakfast Tea, I had developed a bastard of a caffeine-withdrawal headache, which, by last evening, was wandering into migraine territory and making me nauseated all over again. My joints felt sore, especially my shoulders, causing me to only be able to sleep in fits and starts. The lack of quality sleep pretty well put the brakes on commuting to work this morning. Probably just as well, considering how rainy the morning commute was, I probably wouldn't have wanted to be on the ferry or the bus.
With a break in the storm later this morning I foolishly pushed myself (again) and went to Safeway to get a couple of things I couldn't find at the corner market yesterday. (Note to self: When your friend offers to do something nice for you like go to the store, learn to say, 'Yes thank you!' instead of trying to be so damned independent!) The nice woman at the checkout stand alerted me to some free samples of some sort of beef product they had somewhere in the store. I smiled and said thanks, but I'm getting over food poisoning just now. She apologized and figured she should have guessed, given the contents of my basket (pedialyte, more Jello and some bread for dry toast--though that may be a bit optimistic on my part).
By the time I got back home, I had difficulty getting my key in the lock because I was wobbling in the doorway. Once inside, I collapsed on the couch for half an hour. I got back up and wobbled around in the shower (I was so desperate to wash my hair and shocked at how much energy it took just to accomplish that) and am now on the couch for the duration. I'm determined to get back enough energy to make it to the office tomorrow, but my legs and arms feel so damned rubbery right now I'm starting to feel discouraged.
Through it all, I have had the two best furry nursemaids I could have hoped for in Billie and Simon. I have been snuggled and, a couple of times, groomed and Simon has been as patient as he could be about getting his meals a little late. Best of all, they've hardly fought at all in the last several days, other than a couple of territorial spats over who got to take a nap on Mom's legs.
So, besides regaling all y'all with my tale of woe, and just general whining, I write this as a record of what it is like to suffer full-blown food poisoning so that, when I hear of someone else suffering it, I will remember how awful it was and will be a better sympathetic and supportive friend.
I might indeed wish such a violent affliction on my worst enemy, but s/he would have to really piss me off, first.
Labels: food poisoning, furkids, sick
~~ victoria on 11:53 AM ~~ 0 comments
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10 December, 2006
A Thinking Out Loud Programming Note
SIMON SUNDAY will probably not get written until Monday, or possibly not until next Sunday because Simon's Mom has been battling a nasty case of food poisoning since last night (if you're scoring at home, the bacteria won in a first-round knockout). This is the first time today I've been able to be somewhat upright for more than three minutes without breaking into a shaky flop sweat and feeling like I'm gonna hurl or pass out or both. Right now, I'm drinking water and praying I can get it down and keep it down. I may be ready to try apple juice and/or sports drink, but that won't happen until I know I can get to the store and back without any, ummmm, incident.
I certainly cannot end this post without some Simon content. Once he realized how deathly ill I was and that the reason I was staying in bed was because I couldn't get out of bed (except when I, uh, had to), he curled his fuzzy body around my head, hugged my head tight to him and rested his chin on my forehead. Sometimes, when I stirred, he'd hug my head tight to him again and sigh. And now he won't let me out of his sight for more than a couple of minutes. Such a different kitty than the one I was going to write about for Simon Sunday.
If only he could go to the store for me...
Labels: food poisoning, furkids, sick, Simon
~~ victoria on 2:09 PM ~~ 1 comments
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