mousme: A text icon, white text on green, that reads Zathras trained in crisis management (Crisis Management)
It's a statutory holiday here today, so that means I get to wear jeans to work! I have come to deeply loathe and resent having to wear "business casual" office clothing, so God help me if I ever end up having to work in a regular office setting again. Right now I only have to wear the hated clothes about five days a month, often less, when I'm working day shifts during the week, and the rest of the time I can wear comfy jeans, which is my favourite thing to do.

Not much has happened since I last posted. I have been procrastinating like crazy on unpacking the house and doing anything remotely productive when it comes to keeping my life together.

Instead I've been playing Stardew Valley, which is entirely the fault of [livejournal.com profile] fearsclave , who, as usual, is a terrible influence. It's a horribly addictive little farming sim game, which is normally not at all my bag, but on top of the farming there is a significant emphasis on social relationships and community building in the game: the goal is not just to become good at farming, but to integrate a small community and become a respected member of society. The village, called Pelican Town, is also disturbingly realistic in some ways when it comes to depicting small town life, and the otherwise cute and lighthearted game has gotten dark on me a few times. There are characters with depression, suffering from isolation and alcoholism, people on the fringes of "civilised" society. Anyway, it's been weirdly compelling, and it has occupied a lot of my free time in the past three weeks. I finally reached some of the artificial goals the game sets this past weekend, so hopefully my fervor for it will die down a little now, and let me be productive in other ways.

I took Sergent to the vet last week for his shots, and also for our third ride on the "Does the Dog Have Cushing's Disease?" merry go round. I was worried because he's been having accidents in the house ever since I moved. I had attributed it to stress at first, but since it had continued for a month after (though with diminishing frequency), and he's been presenting with other symptoms (panting, less energy, whatnot), a lot of the signs pointed to something else going on. $1,000 later, and the good news is that he still doesn't have Cushings. The bad news is that I'm almost out of savings now. *sigh* I have a new vet, one who is much closer to home, which is much better news for both the pets, who hate being in the car for extended periods, and for my sanity, because my previous vet was an hour away by car, which meant that a vet visit before this meant basically writing off the entire day. It will be nice to be able to do other things on Vet Days now.

In more uplifting news, my new friends L. and J. managed to sell their house, and as of last week no longer live right next to the people who harassed them and made their existence a living misery for two years! I'm so excited and happy for them. They're still looking for a permanent place to live (they both suffer from severe mould allergies. which means they have to be very careful about finding a new home), but at least they now don't have to orchestrate their lives around making sure a vehicle is always parked around their home and that they're not alone for extended periods of time. They no longer have to wear their hoods up to keep their faces covered, or be afraid to leave their house during the day (they did most of their moving in the dead of night), or have their neighbours rev their truck engines at them half the night or point floodlights at their house at all hours, or leave threatening notes on their car windshield. In short, this is fantastic news for them. They sold their house to a heterosexual white couple who already have ties in the neighbourhood, so they're confident the new people won't also be the target of harassment, so it's good all around.

This past weekend ended up busier than any other time since I moved. I ran D&D on Saturday for the first time in over two months, and it went pretty well. I planned a non-combat session for my players: a solstice festival which would allow them to roleplay and just have some fun without worrying about getting killed or having larger moral decisions to make. It was a good way to get back into the swing of things, and give me a bit of breathing space to try to plan out the next arc of their story. In a way, Levels 1-5 were there to help them figure out who their characters are, but now I want to try to start pulling things together and introducing them to the larger world I've been creating. It would likely help me if I worked out more of the details of my world, I guess. :P I don't know if they'll make it all the way to Level 20, but I have plans for them if they do, that's for sure. I just have to figure out what I want to see happen in the interim, and how to make it as much fun for them as possible, too. I have a lot of their backstories to play with as well, which ought to be fun.

Sunday I went to Meeting, after missing two weeks due to work. Now that I'm a Member I'm finding it more difficult to arrange my life with so few free weekends. I'm the clerk of First Day School, which means I feel obligated to lead FDS at least once a month, which means I have only one Sunday a month to attend Meeting, and therefore that's usually the Sunday I will sacrifice if I have to make other plans (like go on a trip, or what have you), but it means I sometimes won't attend Meeting for several months, and I feel really bad about that. I have no good solution to this, unfortunately, short of finding a job that doesn't require me to work weekends, or winning the lottery so I don't have to work at all anymore. :P

Meeting was more stressful than usual, too, because we had an elderly Member become unresponsive during worship. I feel especially bad, because I noticed early on that he appeared to have fallen asleep during worship, and was drooling a little at the time, and I debated with myself if I should go check and see if he was okay and decided against it. This happened to him last year (the only two times I've ever seen him attend Meeting, for that matter), and I wondered if it might not be happening again, but I worried about overstepping my bounds, as I don't know him at all. If I end up in a similar situation again, I'm damned well not going to worry about being told to mind my own business, so long as it means I'm not possibly sacrificing someone's health and safety in the name of social delicacy. It was a poor decision on my part not to interrupt Meeting to check on him, and I regret it.

When worship was over, it became obvious that something was wrong, and people were oddly reluctant to call for medical help for the man. A few of his friends said they would just take him home, and so I stepped in then and put my foot down. He was slumped over in his chair and completely unresponsive, his skin was clammy, and his breathing was extremely rapid and shallow. "I'm calling an ambulance," I told them, and then got them to move chairs aside so the paramedics would have room to work, and employed my best crowd management techniques to get well-meaning but unhelpful people and the looky-loos out of the way. An ambulance arrived within about three minutes, which was great, along with a policeman, who was helpful in getting people to move back and also to have someone to act as a point of contact with the gentleman's family, whom we were having trouble contacting during the emergency.

The funny thing is, because I was the one who essentially took charge of the emergency, everyone at Meeting decided I must know everything there was to know about the gentleman who'd collapsed. People kept asking me what his medical conditions were, if I'd contacted his children, all sorts of things, when the truth is that I didn't even know the guy's name. I'd never met him properly: I just knew from last summer, when he'd also collapsed at Meeting, that there was a history of this happening. Anyway, in light of this latest event, I approached the Meeting clerk and told her we should suggest that everyone volunteer to give us emergency contact information, for cases such as these. We got lucky that a few of the Members in attendance that day not only knew the man, but had phone numbers for his children in their cell phone contacts, but those Members could just as easily not have been there that day, and then the children would not have found out for hours or perhaps even days that their father was in the hospital.

Everything turned out okay, as far as I know: the gentleman was already awake and more responsive by the time the ambulance took him to the hospital, so I'm sure he will be fine. Still, it could have gone much better, and I have learned quite a few lessons from what I did wrong yesterday.

Back to better news: I'm slated to go to a fandom convention next week, which I'm really looking forward to. It has changed names, from Wincon to Confabulation, but it's basically still the same con. I'm looking forward to seeing all the friends I made there last time once more, just to hang out and geek out about fannish stuff. It's a convention run by fans, for fans, with no celebrity guests, which keeps the prices mercifully low, and lets us have panels and round tables to discuss all of our beloved things in depth, which is one of my favourite things to do! So I'm pretty psyched about it, even though it's coming at a time when I no longer have the kind of money I thought I'd have before going, due to unexpectedly having to move and two very hefty vet bills in a three-month period. Still, I can swing it, only because I'd been carefully putting money aside for this convention since last year. I just wish this year had been less expensive.


And that's it! Things are starting to happen in my life again, so with any luck I will be around more and posting.
mousme: A text icon, white text on green, that reads Zathras trained in crisis management (Crisis Management)
Most of what's going on is not super interesting to the outside viewer, alas. I applied for the rental house I wanted on Friday, and I'm supposed to hear back by close of business today. It turns out that my medium credit rating is a cause for concern to prospective landlords. I mean, it's an okay rating, but due to a fuck-up over four years ago there's a thing on it that's keeping it "artificially" low (another three years to go before that black mark disappears, alas), so the manager I spoke to said he had some reservations. I tap-danced my way out of it, and the fact that I've been employed by the government for over nine years helped a lot. All that's left is for them to call my references, which, of course, includes my current landlady. YAY. I hope she doesn't fuck things up for me. Close of business (or COB, which always, always makes me snigger) is in six hours or so, maybe seven, depending on when their day ends, so everyone keep your fingers crossed.

More landlady shenanigans ensued while I was chasing all over town trying to get my application approved. I got a text message from her while I was out, saying that the reno guys were going to remove the wall between the downstairs storage space and my part of the house, and was I home so they could show me? Needless to say, my blood pressure rose about a million points, because there's nothing I'd like more than to have an entire wall missing in my house. It would mean that anyone with a key to the side door of the house would have unlimited access to my living space. Reassuring, right?

I took a detour out of my day to come home, and spoke with the reno guy. It turns out he had told my landlady that he didn't want to take out the wall and leave my living space wide open without alerting me first, as a common courtesy. If it hadn't been for him having a conscience, I wouldn't have known until I came home one day to find my wall missing. He also proposed installing a lock on a door at the bottom of my stairs (the storage space is about two feet beyond the door, behind the wall in question), so that I'd have at least something of an illusion of control. I mean, the door is made of glass, so it wouldn't afford me true privacy or safety, but anyone in that space would have to at least expend effort to get into my house. So yay for reno guys with scruples! If all goes according to plan, the lock will go on today, and the wall will come down sometime this week (although I don't know exactly when, maybe Wednesday). So at least that's resolved, for now. I even got my landlady to agree, via text message, to return my post-dated cheques to me, so that's a small victory too.

I played 7 Days to Die with my friend V. on Friday evening, and went to bed WAY too late. I knew I had to get up early the next morning for a 06:00 Skype date with my parents, after which I was meant to drive to Montreal for [livejournal.com profile] le_maistre_e 's birthday Dim Sum party. Still, because V.'s computer has been on the fritz for nearly a month, I rationalized to myself that I'd go to bed early Saturday night and make up for it then. Remember this bit, because it will come back later.

Saturday was my mother's birthday, and the Skype call was fun, if maybe a bit shorter than usual. They were expecting my aunt to come to lunch, so I actually got to see her briefly before we hung up, which was nice. She had cancer last year, and had to undergo chemo for a while. She was looking quite good, as it turns out (my mother was convinced that she'd have lost all her hair and look like a skeleton, in spite of evidence to the contrary), if a little fragile. As far as I know she's in remission now, which is good news all around.

I hopped in the car and drove to Montreal, which as usual went well until I got into the city proper, at which point the construction nightmare resumed, and I found myself threading my way through detour after detour until I got to Chinatown. The restaurant itself was on a one-way street that, unbeknownst to me, had been blocked at the end. Why unbeknownst to me? Because there was no sign saying it had been blocked off! So I had to do a U-turn and go back the wrong way up a one-lane one-way street until I managed to find an alleyway I could use to get out of there. Good times. I do not miss Montreal and its shitty traffic and its shitty street signs, let me tell you. I miss my friends and family, but I've become spoiled in Ottawa, where getting around with your car is not a logistical nightmare on the best of days.

The birthday Dim Sum was a lot of fun, as was the outing afterward for bubble tea and cheese cake. I geeked out with friends, caught up with people I hadn't seen in weeks and months, and it was all over far too soon. I did leave on time, though, and managed to get back to Ottawa without mishap. Since it was still relatively early (18:00 or so), I took a couple of hours to run some errands. I was out of milk, and I needed to pull together supplies for First Day School on Sunday (I was meant to lead again, and the first Sunday of the month is always potluck, as I think I've mentioned before).

That's when things went south. I was a little surprised when I got home that Sergent didn't immediately get up to greet me, but when I looked over he was lying quietly on his bed, so I assumed he was just continuing his nap. That was quickly put to the lie less than an hour later when I heard the unmistakable sound of nails scrabbling against the floor. When I went over to check what was happening, I found him unable to get up under his own power. Even with me helping him, he couldn't stand for long, poor puppy. I ran for my coat and boots, and then spent nearly 20 minutes maneuvering the poor dog to the car. He weighs 90 pounds these days (he always gains a bit of weight in the winter), and that's about 10 pounds more than I can deadlift, unfortunately. I just can't pick him up and carry him (I'll have to start going to the gym again or something). Luckily with some coaxing and support from me, he was able to limp to the car. I could see then that it was his front left leg that was giving him trouble, and not just weakness in his hindquarters. I was able to lift him into the backseat, and drove him to the nearest emergency vet (which, luckily, is about five minutes from my house), where the vet tech and the assistant got a stretcher for him and carried him inside.

Once there he was sort of able to stand for a little bit, long enough for them to weigh him (which is why I know exactly how much he weighs right now) and for him to then poop all over their floor (oops). An examination revealed him to have a fever on top of the mystery leg injury. So $900 later we had bloodworm and an x-ray done, all of which led the vet to the inevitable conclusion of "We're not really sure." Nice to know that Sergent's streak of mystery ailments continues unbroken. :P They pumped him full of hydropmorphone in order to perform the x-rays, and he spent the rest of the night stoned out of his gourd. It was actually pretty funny, amidst the rest of the shit show that was that whole night. We spent nearly an hour in a nice quiet room with a leather sofa while he recovered a bit (he lay on the sofa, lucky dog, but also had diarrhea all over it, which was maybe less ideal), and after two and a half hours total spent at the vet's they loaded him back into the car, and I drove him home.

The story doesn't end there, alas. I couldn't get him out of the car at all once we were home. He refused to stand up under his own power, and I couldn't get the proper leverage to lift him out on my own. I wasn't sure if this was the result of the hydromorphone (he was still pretty loopy) or a combination of that and his leg injury. Either way, I could not get him to budge. So, I decided to wait and see if, when the narcotics wore off, he'd be more willing to come with me. Long story short, we slept in the car. Let me tell you, sleeping in your car is overrated. For one, Sergent picked the coldest day of the week to need to spend the night in the car, so I had to run the engine quite a bit to keep us (mostly me, probably) both warm, and I was really worried that someone would come across the still-running car and report me (for what, I don't know, but I was overtired). 

Anyway, morning broke, and Sergent still wouldn't get up, so back we went to the emergency vet. I wrote an email to the First Day School volunteers, and thank goodness they agreed to pinch hit for me, because I was a bit of a wreck by then. The same assistant and a new tech carried Sergent back inside, and we got seen by the day vet. It took all three of them to get him up and moving, but by then he managed to start walking around mostly on his own. I took him out a few feet away for a pee, and the vet gave him some makeshift physiotherapy, after which we went home again. It took me another ten minutes to get him inside, but after I lifted him out of the car he was able to mostly manage the stairs on his own, which I took as an encouraging sign. I gave him his pain meds (Tramadol), and he actually asked to go back outside on his own (poor puppy still had the runs) and managed it on his own reasonably well. Then we both got a much-needed nap.

He's doing okay today. He's obviously not 100%, but he's putting a lot more weight on his leg than before, and I was able to get him to eat a little bit, at least. I think the Tramadol makes him feel nauseated, so his appetite has obviously been affected.

Once my nap was over I ended up spending the rest of the evening bookending my weekend with 7 Days to Die with V. and later my friend M., before passing out in bed at a more reasonable hour than on Friday. So, yes, the moral of that story is: don't go to bed late thinking you'll be able to make up for it the next night, because that guarantees you'll have to spend the night in the car with your sick dog. ;)

I'm scheduled for a Skype call with my parents at noon today. My father sent me a slightly panicky email about my living situation, which tells me he's even more stressed about it than I am. He said he would help me out, but I'm disappointed that the content of his message implied that all of this was actually my fault, that if only I kept the house cleaner or whatever, that I wouldn't be having trouble with my landlady. Why didn't I accept her offer? he wanted to know. Why didn't I get a house cleaner before? Why not agree to pay more money so I could stay on here? His offer to support me boiled down to "I will help you fix your fuck-up," which is not exactly the ringing endorsement I would have liked. It's disheartening to feel that, after all this time, my parents still default to the notion that if something bad has happened, it must be because I made a mess of things, and not because the other party is at fault. I constantly hear about parents these days who refused to believe that their precious darlings could ever do anything wrong, and I confess I'd like it if my parents took that stance more often. :P

In conclusion, I had an interesting weekend. Lots of ups and downs, so it's difficult to say whether it was "bad" or "good." I guess it just was.
mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Clever Canadians)
Well, I didn't miss it so much as I slept through it. Night shifts will do that to you.

Happy belated Canada Day, everyone! *cough*

I have at once very little and too much to talk about these days, so much so that every time I open up a new LJ post my mind kind of goes blank. Part of me feels guilty about making a personal post when I still haven't finished my June posts, and another part of me just doesn't even know where to begin with a personal post anyway.

*throws up hands*

Neurotic? Me? Never. :P

Tonight is my last night shift for the week. I'm heading home directly after this because the fence guys are coming at 7:00, and I am quite sure that unless someone is there to guide them with a firm hand, they will find more reasons to freak out and not build a fence for me. It's been three weeks now since the last time they were supposed to build the fence, and I'll be damned if I let this get put off a single day more.

On Thursday I have a guy coming in to install the new floor in the basement, which means that tomorrow (technically today, I guess) I'll be spending the day moving all the stuff out of the basement so he can work. Well, all the stuff that can be moved, I suppose. I can't move any of the appliances (too heavy), and there's the giant wall unit that will have to be taken apart before it can be moved. Also the turtle tank, though we can at least empty that and move the turtle as needed. There is so much stuff in the basement right now that it feels a little overwhelming, but I figure once I get started it won't be as bad as I imagine. I've always had the tendency to blow things out of proportion in my mind, after all.

I'm not sure how long the floor will take to install, but I'm assuming it'll be a 2-3 day job, given that there will be furniture to move around. That means that he will hopefully be done by Saturday, or Sunday at the latest, which means that the house can then go up for sale ASAP. If he's done on Saturday then I can get stuff settled back in the basement on Sunday. On Thursday and Friday, while the work is going on in the basement I'm going to do a big push to pack non-essentials and start the process of "staging" the house, to make it look as appealing as possible to potential buyers. That means de-cluttering the bedroom in particular, packing some of the books and organising the rest, and clearing up space on shelves and counters and such. Hopefully the buyers will be able to see past the piles of boxes and throw all their money at me. ;)

If the house doesn't provoke much interest right away, I will discuss painting with my real estate agent. I already need to paint at least one wall in the basement, and will probably need to fix/paint the back wall that Smudge damaged all those years ago when he used to use the wall as a ladder to climb up into the basement ceiling to hide. There are pretty deep scratch marks in the wall that I have no idea how to fix, but I assume putty and paint will be involved.

Long before the emergency in Moncton, I committed to three days of overtime next week. Just the thought of it kind of makes me want to weep from exhaustion, but the extra money will come in useful, I suppose. I just don't know when I'm going to get anything done. Even if/when the house will be empty eventually, I kind of have to be there in order to get work done. I can't paint the walls remotely, no matter how hard I try. ;) At this point, getting the house painted by someone else is pretty much out of the question, as I have officially run out of money for renovations/prettying the place up. If I can find inexpensive white paint I can do it myself, since I can't imagine it would cost that much to buy enough paint for the walls, but I can't afford to pay someone else to do it. *sigh* Why is everything expensive?

This weekend the dog goes back to the vet, speaking of expensive things. The good news is, he doesn't have Cushings. The bad news is that he has Something Unspecified going on with his liver, which means blood tests AND taking him to the very expensive clinic in Lachine for an ultrasound. This will let the vet determine (we hope!) if his high levels of ALP are due to a tumour or to something else or who the fuck knows. He'll also be getting the stitches out of his eyelid on Saturday, which will be good news for all concerned. Here's hoping that that's the last we will ever hear about this eye surgery, because there's been quite enough veterinary trauma to last me a lifetime this year.

I'm not entirely sure how Sunday is going to shape up. I think I'm going to have to plan to leave later than I normally would, since I'm going to be gone for a week instead of the normal four days. So I have to pack as much stuff into the four days I'll be home as I humanly can, to make sure that I don't fall too far behind schedule. Then I'll be home the following Sunday evening, all of Monday, and then run back to work on the Tuesday for another five day stretch. Good times. Basically, July can be summed up as renos-work-work-renos-packing-work-work-work-try to sell the house-work-work-packing-work. Or something like that. Possibly not exactly in that order, and maybe with more work thrown in there for good measure.

So that's the summary of the last few days for me. Nothing at all, except for worrying about work, the house, and the dog, not necessarily in that order either.

I'm back!

May. 2nd, 2014 09:05 am
mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (White People)
The laptop charger arrived, so I am all set. When finances loosen up a little I am going to get myself another one, so I can keep one in Montreal and one in Ottawa. I think it was at least partly the fact that I had to wrap the cord over and over and over that led to the plastic/rubber casing wearing out and then fraying to the point of snapping. If I make the cords travel less, I'm sure they'll survive longer. Plus it'll save space when I pack.

The week in review. )
mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Sergent)
Drove back into town last night for Bean's birthday party tomorrow. Didn't get much sleep, alas. I've reached the point where my eyes are constantly burning because of the fatigue. I'm not sure if eye drops would help with that, or what. It's hard because it makes me blink/scrunch my eyes a lot, which is not good for when I need to drive, especially long distances. It feels similar to when my eyes are dry, but I don't think it's that.

Anyway, I've been productive this morning, even if it doesn't feel like it. I'm up, showered, dressed and have been to the bank, to the grocery store, and to the vet's to pick up the dog's new meds. I have fed the cats, filled the water dishes, loaded the dishwasher (except for my coffee cup, which I'm still using), and administered meds to the dog. I even managed to have a bite to eat after all that.

Of course, it looks like I got nothing done. *shrug*

I talked to the vet last night about the dog's (very expensive) test results, and the news is good and bad. The good news is that 90% of his results are excellent. Nothing wrong with his platelets, no sign of infection, super healthy immune system, and his blood sugar/insulin levels are a beacon of normality. He is definitely not diabetic, and is in very good shape for a dog his age. So yay for all that.

The bad news is that he's probably got hypothyroidism. He's now on thyroid medication twice a day forever, which will hopefully solve his problem of forever feeling like he's starving and which might also help him to lose some of the excess weight he's gained. So fingers crossed for that.

The other bad news is that his liver function test resulted in some abnormally high numbers. Luckily his ALT is perfectly normal. It's his ALP that's the problem, according to the vet. She said it could be due to any number of things, and that it was a little odd given his overall state of good health.

"Normally we see this with pancreatitis, or if the dog has had some sort of severe gastric distress," she said.

"Oh, like, say, if he ate an entire Ziplock bag full of muffins and half a box of doughnuts?" I asked.

"Yeah, that would do it," she laughed, even though she also sounded horrified.

So we're holding off on the very expensive pancreas test and the very expensive x-ray to determine whether or not he might have masses growing on his liver. If in a month the slightly less expensive blood test comes back with normal results, we'll know that it was a freak occurrence and not a significant health problem.

[livejournal.com profile] pdaughter is home from dropping off Bean at school and has brought a huge bouquet of Monster High balloons with her. They're enormous and shiny, and the dog is not impressed. He's been eyeing them askance the whole time and backs up if we approach him with them, and gives them a very wide berth/the stink eye every time he has to go by. It's kind of hilarious. Poor doggie, he's been around balloons before, but never ones this big or this shiny I guess.

Now it's time for more coffee and to put together the stuff for the party tomorrow. Pictures are sure to follow.
mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Sergent)
We've been having trouble with the dog, as I mentioned before. Last week he stole a sealed Ziplock bag of fifteen muffins off the counter and ate them all, did the same with half a box of Tim Horton's doughnuts, and has been sneaking the cat food when he thinks we're not looking. He's gained about five pounds over the winter, too, which is really bad for his arthritis. It was getting to the point where I would get home and the first thing I'd hear about was the myriad ways in which the dog had misbehaved during my absence.

When I got home on Friday, he was limping noticeably, favouring his right front leg. He's injured this leg a few times in the past, but hadn't done anything to it recently, so I figured his arthritis might be getting worse. I dutifully took an appointment with the vet for yesterday, since I don't want my dog to be in pain. Before the arthritis had manifested as stiffness, so we were managing it with diet and exercise, but if it's more than that we need to look at pain management. I also figured I would address the new "behavioural" problem in case it was a medical problem, as [livejournal.com profile] ai731 suggested. It hand't occurred to me before, but it made sense.

So, nearly two hours at the vet's later, there were x-rays and blood tests and thermometers jammed in unfortunate places. Sergent was not a happy camper. We need to wait for the blood tests to come back, but the vet suspects either a thyroid problem or maybe diabetes. The x-rays did't reveal any worsening of the arthritis, though, which is a good thing in all of this mess.

Of course, the vet visit cleaned me out of the last few "spare" dollars I had. I had managed to clear a bit of space on my credit card, but that's now gone, and I am a little worried about what the beginning of next month is going to look like. *sigh* If the dog has diabetes, we're looking at a crapton of expensive medication that I will somehow have to find a way to pay for out of my already non-existent money. I am really hoping he doesn't have any kind of terrible long-term illness, because I don't want him to be sick and I also don't want to have to figure out how to pay for the new medication.

Oy.

Anyway, today is a commute day. This week I'm coming back for Bean's birthday and then going back again. I'm happy to be able to be at his party but also a little concerned about where the money for the extra gas I need to use is going to come from. Isn't worrying about finances awesome?

Okay. So. Now that I have watched the Teen Wolf finale and I am not chewing off my own fingers in frustration at the show, I need to pack up my things and go.
mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Doesn't mean what you think)
Y'know, I've noticed that what few entries I've posted lately have all sounded as though I'm horribly, horribly depressed.

I'm not, for the record. :)

There's just not much going on in my life. I've settled into a pretty quiet, not-very-social routine. I go to work, I cuddle the cats, watch DVDs, drag myself to the gym. Apart from that, I haven't had much energy to do anything else.

I actually cooked last night, for the first time in a while. I've been a bad camper since before Christmas, keeping the food-from-scratch thing to a minimum. I've been at the very least trying to keep the pre-made foods to a minimum also, but that essentially means I've been surviving on omelets and pasta, with the occasional real food thrown in after spending a day cooking with [livejournal.com profile] luvenditti.

So now I'm going to try to get back on the bandwagon in earnest. Easier said than done, but I'm going to give it the good ol' college try.

I have errands to run today, including taking Gretzky back to the vet for her two-week checkup. She's pretty much fine now, although whatever infection she's got going in her eye hasn't entirely cleared up. I'm guessing the vet will want to continue with the eye drops —much to Gretzky's disgust. She is not a fan of eye drops, and wriggles like a mad wriggling thing whenever I try to apply them. Since we've been doing this for two weeks —three times a day at first, now twice— she's come to view my ministrations with a weary resignation.

Then it's other, more boring errands, tidying up, and tomorrow it's back to work. Fun times.
mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Gretzky)
The good news is that it's nothing that appears to be life-threatening. No diabetes, no kidney failure, nothing like that.

So yay!

The bad news is that we don't know what kind of infection she has.

The somewhat-bad news is that Gretzky should be feeling better by now, and as far as I can tell she isn't, really. I'm not sure if it's just wishful thinking on my part that makes me think she seems to be breathing a little more easily and has a bit more spring in her step. At least she hasn't given me any more "Oh my God is my cat in a coma?" scares. Small mercies.

I have to call the vet today to give her an update on how Gretzky is doing. I think we'll probably have to go for another round of antibiotics next week. At least with the new injection it means I don't have to fight with her, and it means I can also carry on with my other plans without having to leave her overnight at the vet's (because I would never, ever subject one of my friends to the horror of having to pill my cat: it's like a scene out of Exorcist, I swear).

So, yeah. The news is lukewarm, but at the very least I know that she's not dying. She's just got a really really bad cold.
mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Woe. And darkness. And teh sad.)
My kitty is an expensive kitty.

The question, it appears, is not so much "What's wrong with Gretzky?" as "What's not wrong with Gretzky?"

Poor girl. She's not doing well at all. She's lost nearly two pounds since last summer, and is down to a svelte 10lbs. Okay, maybe not svelte, because her belly kind of hangs and is all wobbly, but she's thinner now.

She's running a slight fever, and definitely has something wrong with her upper respiratory system. The problem is that it's hard to identify exactly what it is. The symptoms could be indicative of something underlying that's much more serious. Thus far, the theories are:

- it's a simple cold that's turned into a bronchial infection
- it's a tooth infection that's settled into her sinuses
- it's the beginning of diabetes or another elderly cat illness that's making her susceptible to opportunistic infections

We did x-rays right then and there (sparing me another trip with the kitty), and the news is both good and bad.

Good: she has no fluid in or around the lungs, which would have been Very Bad Indeed™, and her tummy was full, which means that I have not been hallucinating her eating her kibble like a good girl.

Bad: she has either an inflammation in her bronchial tubes, or calcification due to age, and while the x-ray was of her chest, it looks like she might have kidney stones or something similar.

So we're on the lookout for diabetes, potential kidney failure or kidney stones, and maybe a UTI.

Blood was drawn (from the cat, not any of the humans, although she did bite me when the vet shoved a thermometer where the sun don't shine), and we will have the results tomorrow (see how much faster it is than with human doctors?).

The other good news is that they now have an antibiotic that's given ONCE and by injection, so no more fighting with the cat twice a day for two weeks. w00t!

*sigh*

Oh, and did I mention that she has fleas? Yessir, the day just kept getting better. I bought a topical flea killing thing (Advantage) and have dosed all four cats. DEATH TO THE FLEAS!


So, yeah. News you need about my cat. It was very, VERY expensive. I am feeling very poor right now. Let's just say this isn't a good time for me to have large extra expenses.

Poor kitty

Jan. 6th, 2009 03:29 pm
mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Gretzky)
I am taking Gretzky to the vet this evening. I meant to take her toward the end of the week, but they had an opening tonight, so I'm taking it.

I got home today and she was sleeping so soundly that I actually had to physically pick her up before she awoke. I think that's probably a bad sign, so off to the vet we go. I was going to call anyway, but this has clinched the deal.

George actually appears to be getting better, so he's staying at home. Negotiating one cat through the snow is going to be plenty hard enough.
mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Wheee! (ribbon))
For those of you who sent good thoughts/lit candles/said prayers but who don't read [livejournal.com profile] toughlovemuse's blog, Jake is doing better by all accounts, and is expected to be able to return home tomorrow night.

Thanks to everyone who sent their well-wishes for the kitty. :)
mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Sad Snooch)
Today was a looooooooooooooong day.

Brought the car to the parental units, went to band practice. Started work on the new Soopar Seekrit Prodjikt while having tea with [livejournal.com profile] toughlovemuse and [livejournal.com profile] luvenditti. Had a latent-ish migraine all day, which didn't help.

Tea was lovely, until poor Jake, [livejournal.com profile] toughlovemuse's elderly Russian blue cat, got quite ill under our noses. An hour later, maybe even less than that, we were all (that is me, [livejournal.com profile] luvenditti, [livejournal.com profile] toughlovemuse and [livejournal.com profile] chibipunkdemon) at the all-night emergency vet's with the kitty in tow (kitty was *not* happy about being in the carrier), waiting to see a vet. [livejournal.com profile] luvenditti and I went in search of food, and we spent the next five hours or so in the waiting room.

It took four hours before Jake got in to see the vet. [livejournal.com profile] luvenditti lucked out by finding a deck of cards lying on a table, so we whiled away the hours chatting about bad movies and playing Crazy Eights and Gin Rummy. We played one game of "Go Fish" which [livejournal.com profile] chibipunkdemon won after two rounds. We decided Go Fish wasn't as fun now as when we were seven years old, and went back to Crazy Eights.

Jake is spending the night at the vet's, so that they can get some fluids in him and run some tests.

To the people on my flist who do that sort of thing: I think lighting a candle/thinking good thoughts/saying a prayer for Jake would be very appreciated. He's a good cat. :)


I'm going to bed now. Long, long day.

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