So I guess it’s kind of bad manners to write such a heavy blog post and then just sort of disappear for nearly three and a half months. Sorry?
Yeah WTF, Victoria? Are You Okay?
Well, I’m better. Things got a bit chaotic right around mid-April. I had been trying to get Charlie to lose some weight to help him deal better with his asthma. The good news was, he had lost enough weight that he actually could fit in one of the cat harnesses so I could bring him and Clancy on the patio with me. The bad news was, he had lost too much weight. My cat mama instincts were triggered, so I scheduled him for his check-up. A couple of days later, his bloodwork came back: Diabetes.
Well, Shit
Those first few weeks were…a LOT. The first casualty was, of course, my bank account. Coming in a very close second was our sanity (mine, Charlie’s and Clancy’s because he had to adjust to all of these changes, too). It was a blur of activity, first acquiring all of the things one needs to support a diabetic cat: insulin, syringes, an animal-specific blood glucose monitor, and, interestingly, Karo syrup (in case of hypoglycemia). Then, I had to learn how to USE all of this stuff. I explained to the vet techs that I was doing all of this on my own and Charlie behaves much differently at home than he does at the vet’s office. Basically, the advice was to do my best and…
The first few tries at getting his blood glucose reading on my own ended in tears because I had poked Charlie’s ears so many times trying to get a drop for the reading. I felt like the shittiest cat mom for poking him so many times and his little ear flap looked like a war zone.
Getting the insulin in seemed to go well..at first. Because he was so hungry all of the time, he had a laser focus on eating his breakfast/dinner, so he barely noticed me giving him the injections. Then, he figured out what I was doing while he was trying to enjoy his meal and he started moving or jumping away when I tried to jab him. One particularly chaotic morning, I managed to jab my thumb with the needle—no, I did not give myself the insulin. I sat at my desk and cried. Again, I felt like a fucking failure.
Even when I was getting his insulin on board, Charlie’s appetite was never satiated. And when he wants food, he screams. Very loudly. And it Did. Not. Stop. The way that I am wired, I tend to react to being screamed at in a couple of ways: 1) I match the violence, 2) I shut down completely. Of course, I couldn’t do either of these. My little baby tiger needed me, and I wasn’t even running on fumes anymore. I had been down this road before a decade ago with Simon and barely survived that. Something needed to change.
I called the vet’s office, spelled out how much Charlie was getting for his meals (the instructions for his diabetes called to feed him less), and that I had cut out most of the snacks (I cut out the crunchy snacks and kibble). But he needed to be fed more, not less. “I’m calling for guidance, not permission,” was the message I left for the doctor. Thankfully, she agreed. He went from sharing a 6-oz can with Clancy every day to getting his very own 12-oz. can (think dog food size). At >$4/can my cat food (and, uh, litter) bill is through the roof, but Charlie screams at me a lot less.
This week he seems to be acting a lot more like his old self, and his blood glucose finally dropped below 200. Still high, but much lower than it was before. I’ll take any victory I can right now.
Weren’t You Doing Some Art/Photography Stuff? What’s the Deal with That?
Yeeeeeahhhhh. So while I’m learning how to support a diabetic cat, keep his non-diabetic brother (who has a whole set of issues of his own) happy, holding down a day job, and trying to keep my apartment from looking like it qualifies for Federal disaster relief—all on my own—there just wasn’t anything left to put into Magic Turtle Studios. Which kinda sucked because I had just started to build some momentum, but also I was having a sort of existential crisis about it.
So, rather than give into the panic about retreating into an old pattern of just giving up on it, I decided to view it as the Universe delivering a divine pause to give me time to identify the issue(s) and calmly find a way to deal with them. If you want to stay updated on the goings-on with Magic Turtle Studios, please sign up for my newsletter.
Now that things have calmed down with Charlie, I can start putting more energy into my home and creative life. That doesn’t mean I’m not still overwhelmed a lot of the time because, when you’re single-single, there is no division of, well, anything.
But, I’ve been clearing out clutter both from the apartment and my head (I’ve started talking to a therapist). My tomato plant is bursting with little ‘maters (usually I’m lucky to get half a dozen from a plant but counted 22 yesterday). I’ve been watching the Men’s World Cup when I can (and, yes, I have opinions), and, really, have gotten back on the path I was on before…all of this *waves arms around*.
As I keep reminding myself: when it comes to all of the worst/hardest days I’ve ever had, I remain undefeated.
