Sick Old Bird Update #6

The appointment with the vet Saturday morning did not go well.

Due to vomiting spells Thursday and Friday nights, Ms. Christopher lost even more weight--she's now down to 7.5 pounds. Worse, she'd been very lethargic Friday night, not wanting to eat or socialize or do anything but sit in one spot and stare into the distance. It looked like she was getting ready to check out. It scared me. I cried. A lot.

Worse (yes, it does get worse before it gets better), when the vet palpated Christopher's abdomen, she felt a mass she hadn't felt previously (probably because Chris weighed more the last time the vet palpated her). A mass usually translates to a tumor. A growth. Cancer. But right now, that's not even her biggest problem. She's in no shape for surgery or chemo--she needs to gain weight or, at the bare minimum, stop losing it.

The vet and I discussed medications. The vomiting and loose bowel movements were costing her any gains in weight or nutrition, so the vet changed her antibiotic to an antidiarrheal and added and antivomiting tablet to the mix. I also mentioned that she seemed better after receiving steriod shots, so the vet assigned a twice-a-day steriod (which, as a side benefit, also stimulates appetite and thirst).

Lastly, the vet was very concerned with Chris's hydration, so she asked if I'd be comfortable giving subcutaneous fluids at home--in other words, hooking Chris up to an IV every other day. I said I'd have no problem with it and did a successful test run on the examination table.

I took Chris home by cab, let her loose in the living room of La Casa del Terror and laid down to cry for a while.

I had previously arranged to go see Quarantine with Dee and JB (Christopher's original owner), so I got up, showered off and gladly embraced the distraction. After the movie (which is really good in a "If Cloverfield had been about zombies instead of a giant fucking monster" kind of way) and a fine dinner at the Daily Bar & Grill, I went home, gave Chris her evening meds and syringe of stinky sick kitty food and settled in for Earth vs. the Flying Saucers on Svengoolie.

I cried some more, but my tears were slowed a bit by Chris herself--she still wasn't inclined to eat much on her own, but her bowel movements had steadied out (looking more like real poop instead of pure liquid), she didn't throw up at all (and hasn't since Friday night), and, most importantly, I think, she was much more alert and active than she'd been the previous couple of days. She was walking around the apartment more and came over to jump in my lap, where she stayed for quite some time.

Sunday morning, I got up early to feed both kitties and medicate Chris, and afterward I brought Chris back to bed with me. She curled up under my left arm, purring loudly and smiling noticably. She stayed only for an hour before jumping down from the bed, but for that hour she was the Christopher I knew and loved so much, not the shambling ghost her illness had made her. I still cried, and really had a hard time holding it together at Mom's house last night (her cats, sensing my emotions, all took turns spending time with me, inadvertently making things that much worse). Back at La Casa, though, Chris was still alert, pooping closer to normal and not tossing her kitty cookies.

Even better, she made more of an effort to eat, and returned to the bowl several times to nibble a little more. If nothing else, she's acting more like her normal self for the moment--and for the moment, I'll take it.

This morning, after feeding and medicating, I gave Christopher her first subcutaneous fluid dose, with the patient sitting on a blanket atop a couple of storage containers and the IV hanging from the coat rack. It's really pretty easy and entirely painless to her:

1. Pinch the skin on the back to form a tent.

2. Insert the needle at a 45-degree downward angle (so as to not punch through the skin or accidentally hit bone or muscle).

3. Adjust the needle to be sure it's all the way in.

4. Start the fluid flowing and make sure the cat sits still during the procedure.

All pretty straightforward--except for the one point I forgot to check off my list:

5. Make sure your other, younger, more rambunctious cat is secured in another room so she can't "assist" during the procedure.

Woopsy.

Just after I'd unlocked the fluid flow control and started the hydration process, Olivia grabbed the dangling line and tried to run off with it. After I yelled something suitably awful at her and chased her away, I brought the line up out of her reach and had to reinsert the needle (it had come loose enough to send a couple tablespoons of fluid down Christopher's back and onto the comfy blanket). Fortunately, we were very early in the process, so I was able to get the rest of the fluid into Chris without incident.

When I left La Casa this morning, I made a point of petting both kitties on my way out the door, but especially my sick old bird. She's being so good, trying so hard. Neither of us is ready to give up yet. So we won't.