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Cats – thy name is “stress”

And “bills.”  By the end of the year, I expect to have been able to have bought a cheap car outright with what I’ve spent on the fur children.

We’ve been managing Nishka’s diabetes fairly well – or so I thought.  The last couple of weeks I’ve been a bit concerned about how she acts after her shot, but not SO concerned that I called the vet.  She’s scheduled for another blood glucose curve on the 10th, her weight has been rock solid, and if she’s been sleeping a lot – she’s a sixteen year old cat fer Pete’s sake.  I’d thought about calling my vet yesterday to ask, and then got busy.

I was wrong, and I should have called.

Last night I gave them their dinner, and gave Nishka her insulin.  Because when I had last seen her she was face down in the food dish, I assumed that she’d eaten.  Apparently not.  Around 9:00 or so I noticed that she did NOT look right.  She often lies in the middle of the kitchen floor – it’s the elderly cat’s prerogative to make you walk around her.  But I realized that she wasn’t so much “lying” on the floor as “collapsed.”  I grabbed the food dish, realized it was still full (Becket doesn’t eat until her majesty has finished with it,) and shoved it under her nose.  Nothing.  So I grabbed the corn syrup and rubbed a fair bit all over the inside of her mouth.  In the process I managed to pretty much coat both of us with corn syrup.  This is about when she started twitching.  I had Camma get me the phone and the vet’s number, and called the emergency vet.

This phone call is the perfect example of why if anything terrible and inexplicable happens to Bob, they’re going to convict me on the 911 call.  I was *certain* that my cat was dying in my lap, and that it was my fault, and having a very calm rational conversation with the vet’s office.  They gave me the phone number and address of a 24-hour emergency vet closer to us (turns out I was talking to Middletown,) Camma said that she would stay with Charlotte, I scooped up the cat, and Bob drove.

That was a bad drive.  The twitching was scaring me to death – until she STOPPED twitching.  Please start pleasestartpleasestart… when she was twitching at least I knew she was still alive.  Then at one point she had what I thought at first was a convulsion – she made the most terrible noise, stiffened, drooled all over me… and then perked up her head and her ears and started looking around.  That would be the corn syrup hitting her brain…

Somewhere in there she peed on me a little also.  I was VERY attractive when we got to the vet.

The guilt was crushing.  I hadn’t checked to be sure she’d actually eaten, and I had no idea how long she’d been in distress before I noticed.  And *I* had given her the shot.  If I’d killed my cat…
They did a fast once over, and alleviated one part of those concerns – the emergency vet is fairly certain that there’s something else going on.  She said that she’s seen cats who have accidentally been double dosed (You gave her a shot?  But *I* gave her a shot earlier…) and three units on not much dinner shouldn’t have done that big a number on her.  There’s a few things that could be, and they’re looking into them.

So they admitted her.  Into a strange facility, with staff that I don’t know.  Which almost killed ME.  We got home about 11:00, and apologized to Camma – she had been packing up to go home early and catch up on her sleep when all hell broke loose…  I got no sleep.

This morning I called the vet to check in, and she’s doing okay.  Still not back to normal yet, but he didn’t sound surprised or concerned – apparently a swing that large takes some coming back from, and they’re trying to nail down the cause.  They’re in touch with my regular vet, and I have a message in with THEM to call me today or tonight to touch base.  I want to deal with wherever we go from here with my usual folks.  But for now the emergency vet is taking care of her, and wants her to be fully stable before they send her home – at this point that is anticipated to be tomorrow evening.

I can’t get out of the office this afternoon, but Bob is going to stop on the way home and give her some cuddles.  I want my kitten back – I want to hold her and bury my face in her fluff and convince myself that I’m not really a bad person.

The next step is going to be to figure out how to bring her back in the house (shaved and smelling of vet and medications) without Becket losing his pea-brain again.  One intriguing suggestion I got was to take him with me to pick her up.  That way they’ve *both* gone to the vet and they’re coming home together – which is different from bringing her home from the vet to him.  And I can put the carriers nose to nose in the car so that they can examine each other on the ride – after spraying everything down with Feliway in advance.

I wish vets had streaming video like some day cares.  I’d feel a lot better if I could SEE that she’s okay.  I just want her home. 

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Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
isabeau_lark
May. 29th, 2013 06:50 pm (UTC)
Oh, hon, I know how you feel. I went through hell when Nala was sick. I send you a big mental hug. Give her an extra scritch and cuddle from me.
galingale
May. 31st, 2013 02:57 pm (UTC)
Hugs! I'm going to read further before saying more.
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )