Week 8: Sometimes, Life's a Chore

Week 8's theme is about chores. All that stuff that gotta do to keep the house clean and pretty, but hate doing. I am not a fan of them, at the least.  I knew I was having foot surgery later in the week, so I had extra incentive to get everything done. Considering how long I was off my feet and on pain meds, I'm glad I did those preparations.

Day 50: Clipping Coupons
I am not super crazy with the coupons, but if I can squeeze a few dollars off the grocery bill each week, I'm happy.   Half the time I don't use the coupons I cut out of the paper.  Why can't the grocery stories have coupons for fresh fruit and veggies?

This is even more fun when there are feline helpers involved.

Day 52: Feeding the Pets

The Small Human and I visited some friends at the shore.

By the way, in case your only exposure to the Jersey Shore is that awful TV show, THIS is what the boardwalk really looks like:

The only situation going on around here is the wind on an empty boardwalk. How I love the shore in February!

In light of my week's theme, here's some people doing their chores at the aquarium:

Feeding penguins. The crowd to view this was ridiculous, hence my crappy photo.

Most of my aquarium photos are on Facebook, but here's two more for extra credit:

The Small Human and a turtle size each other up.

Zen froggie

Day 53: Bringing my cat to the referral hospital

This is not a good way to start the day.

 
Tuesday was an unhappy day  for me, indeed. I got up early to get some housework done.  While that's unpleasant enough, it's not the part that sucked.  As I stepped out of my bedroom, the cats came up the stairs to greet me, as usual.  However, my Red Beast was shaking while he was on the stairs.  As he made the final step, he promptly fell over.


Well, fuck. I'm all for getting out of chores, but certainly not like this.

I exit domestic goddess mode and go into veterinarian mode.  My cat's temperature was 96 (normal is 100-102),  His gums were pale, heart rate dropping from 140 to 120.  I can't hear a damn thing in his chest because, despite the fact that he can't stand, he's still purring like crazy.  In my head I start running differentials.  Is my cat having a stroke?  Is this from the cancer that returned several months ago? Is he a diabetic and I just missed it?  Is there a new tumor in his head?

As I contemplate the thought that my cat might be dying, I exit veterinary mode and run headlong into panicky cat owner mode.  Losing my ability to be objective was completely and totally unhelpful.  I chose the phone-a-friend option next and called the local referral hospital.  The emergency vet tells me that if I'm thinking the Red Beast has a cardiac problem, to not bring him there.  This is because their cardiologist is away on a family emergency, so there's no one to do an in-depth exam on his heart.

Since the Red Beast's oncologist and internist are there, I bring him to said referral hospital anyway. At this point, I've wasted a good 45 minutes fretting about.  Trying to get the child out of bed while I'm crying like a fool isn't very efficient.  By the time I got the cat to the referral hospital, he's not only ambulatory, his body temperature is almost normal.  Huzzah!  I am thrilled to look like a neurotic cat owner.

 We decide to admit him for a consult with the neurologist and to run some blood work.  I could have run the blood work, too, but it wouldn't have come back til the next day.  The verdict:  Whatever made my cat fall over is in his brain.  And considering his somewhat rapid recovery, that thing in his head is probably a blood clot.  So the Red Beast had a stroke.  Unfortunately, metastasis from his lymphoma can't be ruled out, and neither can a new tumor.  On top of that, the cat's thyroid level is sky high.  Never mind the fact that he was regulated as of 2 months ago!

To make life even more exciting, if the Red Beast did have a stroke, then he shouldn't be on prednisone. Except that the prednisone (along with leukeran) keeps the lymphoma under control.

 So, Dr. Nonymous gets to decide how her cat will die: Quickly from a stroke? Or slowly, through vomiting and weight loss from lymhpoma?  For now, I choose stroke.  I choose to let the Red Beast be fat and happy.  I just hope that the next clot he throws doesn't do much damage. And if it does, I hope it kills him quickly and painlessly.

By the time I got him home that night, the Red Beast looked almost like his normal self.

I'm purring because I can't read these discharge instructions from the referral hospital.

I brought the Red Beast to the cardiologist at a different practice the next day. The bad news is that his heart is abnormal from the hyperthyroidism. The good news is that there are no changes that are bad enough to indicate heart failure, and there are no blood clots seen.  The cardiologist recommended putting my cat on plavix.  Aspirin would be so much cheaper, except that interacts with the prednisone and could cause bleeding ulcers. Which brings us back to the vomiting and diarrhea. Yay.  Plavix is expensive, and the cat doesn't tolerate it all that well.  I may just give up on it, and just keep my fingers crossed that the next blood clot doesn't land anywhere painful.

Day 54: Scrubbing bathrooms

I hate hate hate scrubbing bathrooms.  There's a ton of stuff to lug around for the job, it takes a long time to do, and only takes 1 use of the facility to mess it all up. However, I despise nasty bathrooms even more than I hate cleaning them.  With my foot surgery looming within 24 hours, it was off to scrub bathrooms I went.

Day 55: Baby sitting

I had bunion surgery today.  My left foot was broken in two separate places and pinned back together.  As far as I knew, I slept through the procedure, and when I first woke up, I was not in pain at all.  However, I was cursing a blue streak. I didn't know why.  I found out a week later that apparently I swore through the entire surgery.  My doc would not tell me what I said, except to tell me that I'm quite the happy drunk.

Anyway, my job after surgery was to sit on my ass and to keep my foot elevated and iced.  My Gray Beast made sure I complied with the doctor's orders.

What are YOU staring at? Go back to sleep!

Day 56: Walking

Remember how I said when I woke up from surgery, I wasn't in any pain?  Well, once the local anesthetic wore off, that changed. Big time.  It was a helluva lot more painful than I thought it was going to be.  Getting around became a bit of a challenge.

Crutches + CAM walker = pain in the ass

The Gray Beast was there to remind me to stay put on the couch and eat my vicodin like a good girl.

"Don't even THINK of getting off the couch, Mom!"

I'd like to give a shout out to Netflix for having every episode of Mythbusters available for watching.  You have no recent movies available for streaming whatsoever, but hey, I got to see Jamie, Adam, and the gang blow shit up.  That made the enforced couch surfing suck a little less. Thanks!

Day 57: Napping/ Setting a good example

My husband told me that my job for the next week was to sit on my butt, eat my pain meds, watch TV, sleep, and get better, while he took care of the boy and the cats and everything else.  My husband is totally awesome. 

The White Beast naps like it's his job.  Here, he demonstrates excellent napping technique for me to emulate. 

"See, Mom? This is how it's done!"

The cat was purring so loudly, he looked like he was having a hard time breathing. On top of that, he was so relaxed he had no interest in moving.  These two things, coupled with the medical crisis of the Red Beast several days before, prompted me to get my stethoscope out to listen to my cat.  I diagnosed him as napping and purring loudly. 

The Small Human took a different perspective on the whole Mommy-on-vicodin experience. 

Let me practice my drum solo while you attempt to nap!

One more week to go, and I'll be caught up. Hooray! Next week's theme? Couch surfing, what else?