It Hurts Me More Than It Hurts You...

So soon, another blog post?  Down right immediate!  Well, maybe it's because I forgot to tell you about my shove into parenthood.  No, I'm not pregnant.  But since my parents have officially decided to "give my cat back to me," I now get to do all the fun stuff like going to the vet by myself.

You should know, that the last time I went to the vet, it was with my mom, and my other cat... and only my mom and I came home.  Naturally, this visit was nothing like easy for me.  I spent the entire drive telling my cat (and really, myself) that everything was gonna be okay, and that nothing would be wrong with her, except maybe she would need her teeth cleaned, all the while hearing the most horrible sentence from our last visit play on a loop in my head.  "I would put her down."  Let me tell you something... hyperventilating in a car is no fun.

So I took my crying kitty into the office, and checked in.  We got a room, and I expressed my concerns to the vet, while at the same time making sure to tell him all the positives about her.  She has been extremely finicky about her food, but she has an appetite, and no problem expressing her displeasure with whatever food she doesn't want to eat, so we suspected it might be her teeth.  Also, she has a little thing on her foot that I had been worried about.  He took her in for some tests, and I went out to the waiting room, waiting in terror.  Turns out, the little growth on her foot is nothing to be concerned about, and the vet just clipped the plaque off her teeth with his fingers real fast.  But she is almost 17, and so there was little chance she would come out completely healthy and normal.

Turns out, not only is she hyperthyroid, she has both liver and kidney failure.  I could already feel the color draining from my face.  Here it comes... he's gonna tell me I have to put my cat to sleep and I'm all by myself.  I'm gonna be driving back to my house with an empty cat carrier.  "It is treatable" he said, probably sensing my nervousness (I'm sure I looked like a deer caught in headlights).  She gets half a pill twice a day for her hyperthyroid condition (which sucks, but is not a major issue) and she gets 50ml of subcutaneous fluids a day.

For those of you who don't know what subcutaneous means, I'll enlighten you.  That means, I have to stick my cat with a needle and hook her up to an IV for a few minutes every day.  I am terribly squeamish, even when I'm not the one involved.  I don't even like listening to stories about blood, or needles, or any kind of other icky medical situations like surgeries or broken bones.  But, since I am responsible for my kitty, it's something I just have to push myself to do.  I won't lie to you... I thought it would get easier with time, but we're half way through the first bag (hopefully the only bag) and I feel worse every time I do it.  Sometimes she cries, sometimes she doesn't, but nothing she can do will keep me from feeling like the most horrible person in the world for a few minutes every day.  Or like the new nursing intern who's never stuck a patient with a needle before.  Or both.  Usually both.

Luckily, it never ceases to amaze me that after collecting herself (she doesn't much care for being held still against her will, not to mention being stuck with a needle) she comes right back to snuggle next to me.  Rewards for being a mom.  :)