Apologies for the lack of a post last Thursday — it was a thoroughly unpleasant week and by the time I got to the end of it, there wasn’t much I wanted to say that bore sharing. The following may still be less than “uplifting,” and at the same time, I want to say it.
The week before last, Miss Zouzou-Cat was ill with what looked like a simple case of gastroenteritis. After trying a few things on my own, I popped her into her carrier (OK, that’s a euphemism; if you have cats, you know what I mean.) and took her to the vet. He did the standard thing you do when you have a constipated cat (again, not going into details), gave her a couple of injections, and recommended she eat a prescription diet for the next few days. I was to return the following day (Sunday) for another round of injections.
On Sunday, after more shots and some unabashed cat worship (she IS very cute) he asked that I bring her back on Monday for another round of injections, reasoning (correctly, I believe) that going to oral antibiotics wasn’t a good idea just yet.
Monday, another visit, with the added delight of drawing blood for a full work-up. Results to follow in a few hours. He called at the end of the day. Not so good — one of her liver enzymes was sky-high and he suspected FIP (feline infectious peritonitis, read all about it here). We decided to do an additional test.
Things were going pretty well until Wednesday, when we needed to go back because she was constipated again. A bit of belly massage, a few more cans of the Rx food, and back home.
Thursday he called with the results of the second test, which confirmed his suspicions. Could I please come in to talk through her treatment options? No need to bring her with me. (Thank deities for small mercies.) Because she has the “dry” form of FIP, it’s possible to treat it as a chronic illness with diet and monthly injections of an immune-booster. He asked me to “do [him] a favor and not obsess about the diagnosis.” He has cat patients who have FIP and who are doing very well on the treatment. A couple of them are two years past diagnosis and still going strong.
OK. I’m not obsessing. I am of a Buddhist mind-set. Everything that lives, dies. The cat is 15 and has a very good life. We will carry on until the time when her life is less than what she deserves, and make a decision.
Saturday, back to the vet’s (con kitty) for the first of her monthly injections. I don’t know what was in it, but it made her hiss and hiss. Ow!
She has taken up residence under the bed, sleeping on top of a clothes-storage bag and coming out only to eat and use her box. I’m ready to join her.
In other news, it’s been warm and sunny for over a week now.