Responsibility is a 4 Letter Word

It really sucks to be an adult sometimes.
Last Saturday, Fred threw up. No big deal. She's on medication for hyperthyroidism, and puking can be one of the side effects. It's happened before, plus she had just eaten a big plate of treats, so I didn't think anything of it.
But when she didn't want to eat on Sunday, I became a bit worried. She still drank water but couldn't keep any of it down. By Sunday night she was failing.
I woke up on Monday and called my vet. Unfortunately she was on vacation until the next day, but they told me to take Fred to Tufts if she couldn't make it much longer. By that afternoon she could barely walk. It was time.
I was at work by then, so our neighbor drove C and Fred to Tufts in Grafton. They admitted her (by the way, it's $128 just to walk in the door. That information will factor in later) and started her on an IV after taking some blood. They did a chemical panel and later discovered she had a fever. They also pushed on her middle and saw that she cringed while only pushing on one of her kidneys. So without doing an extensive list of tests that would've cost over $1,000, they decided to start her on antibiotics for a kidney infection.
The whole time, C is calling me at work throughout the night, giving me updates on her condition and what the cost of further tests would be. He told the vet I was definitely strapped for cash, and they tried to work with the results they had already obtained. We decided to wait and see if the antibiotics worked overnight before going any further.
I went to visit her that night after work, and she barely lifted her head. Her back was to the cage door and she looked tired. But after talking to her for a couple of minutes, she gingerly stood up and allowed me to pet her before laying back down for the night. I was relieved that she was in a medical facility, but of course it pained me to see her in a cage with the IV.
The next morning they called to tell me that she did all right overnight, and that her fever was gone. She was even eating a little bit which was a good sign. But they felt something hard in her stomach, like her intestinal walls were thicker, and suggested an ultrasound. They also discovered from the chemical panel her liver levels were off, which could point to liver failure. This information led them to believe that she could have something as serious as lymphoma.
Lymphoma?
That brought on a whole set of new concerns, concerns that, on my budget, would be impossible to satisfy. Cancer treatments imply chemotherapy, and who knows if that would even improve her life? Extending it is one thing, but if it was only to be time spent undergoing treatment, that's no life at all, for any living being.
Unfortunately, the ultrasound cost $250, and the vet said if it didn't show anything they'd still have to take more blood to determine a more definitive cause. Since I had already spent $120 for one overnight stay, and they wanted to keep her for another night, I had to forgo the ultrasound and stick with the bloodwork.
All day I tried not to think about the possibility that I may have to put my Freddie down. I've had her for seven years of her sixteen on Earth, and this was the first time that idea even presented itself. I've been lucky in that she's been a really healthy cat for most of the time I've had her. And now that her old age is finally showing, I may have a tough decision to make.
All this while having to keep up a modicum of professionalism. It was not a good day.
Thankfully, the results of the bloodwork came in that night while I was at work. They said her liver values were back to normal, and she was doing much better with the eating and drinking. They decided it was the kidney infection that snowballed into all of her other symptoms, guessing she was septic by the time we brought her in. No ultrasound combined with her progress allowed me to bring her home the next day, with two different kinds of antibiotics and the suggestion for an antacid. The cancer idea was off the table for now, so long as we kept an eye on her and had her blood checked again in another month.
I picked her up the next day, just beaming from ear to ear. She looked much better and even meowed while in her carrier, a sign that she was getting back to normal. (She really hates that thing, and will meow like she's going through the Spanish Inquisition the whole time she's in it. It really adds to the fun of bringing her to the vet, or ANYWHERE). :)
Now it's just a matter of force-feeding pink liquid medicine down her throat (and you know all animals just love that!) while trying not to spray it all over her face, and paws, and any other body part she will try to put in the way of her and the applicator. She looks like a Pepto Bismol junkie, with tiny pink spots all mashed into her fur. And we get to continue this fine tradition for a month- yay.
But I'll take it for even just one more day with my feline best friend.
I can't imagine what I would've done if the results of this hospital trip had turned out differently. As it is, I spent about $800 to bring her out of this situation alive and well. Who knows what will happen if she becomes sick again. It's just too much of an adult decision for me to ever want to think about again.
But I will have to eventually, as all adults do, with nothing but responsibility as my guide. And that brings no comfort at all.

I'm F#ckin Old

You know you're getting old when conversations with friends (or co-workers) go something like this.
"So, I was flipping through channels the other day and I came across the MTV Video Music Awards."
"I remember when all they played on MTV was videos. Now all I see are shows about teens in the 'real world,' none of which I ever encountered when I was that age."
"Anyway, it was hosted by some punk guy I didn't recognize."
"Oh yeah, he's in some band I think."
"Oh, that makes sense. He was wearing ridiculously tight black pants with spiky hair and lots of make-up. He really wasn't that funny either"
"Did you see that one singer, Re-hanna, Re-anna..."
"Re-ahna?"
"I guess so. Her pants looked like they were painted on. And she was wearing heels, no lie, that looked about eight inches high."
"How does anyone function in those shoes?"
"No idea."
"These are great role models for kids. Look like a slut and make it in the music business."
"Well, there are the Jonas Brothers with their virtue rings."
"Who are the Jonas Brothers?"
"Some boy band. They look about 15."
"Well geez, I hope they're still virgins at 15!"
"Remember when Jessica Simpson claimed she was a virgin? That didn't last long."
"But that was years ago before she got married. At least she waited that long."
"Yeah, and she was what? 23 or something?"
"I think so. That's a long time to wait in this day and age."
"No kidding. There are a number of famous teens right now having babies. Can you imagine? And I don't know any teen pregnancies that end up like in Juno. Or even Knocked Up."
"Yeah, but those are just movies, and comedies at that. They're obviously overdone to be funny. And I would hope people would recognize that."
"Older, wiser people, yes. Hormonal teenagers, not so much."
"Did I tell you a group of teenagers threw a rock at my car the other day?"
"Seriously?"
"Yup. Never mind the damage to my car, someone could get hurt."
"Damn punk kids."
We're calling teenagers punk kids.
I remember being a high school kid. I remember being a college student. But I don't remember making the transition from being one of those things to complaining about them.
At least I'm not calling them whipper-snappers yet. :)

Mosquitoes and Those Who Hate Them

For some reason, mosquitoes love me. Often times I will stand next to C, who is 6'8, and he'll come away with one or two bites, while I'll have 27. And that's not really an exaggeration either. We were at a barbecue a couple of weeks ago, when I noticed a huge bug bite on my leg after being outside for an hour. I asked for some bug spray and sprayed my arms, legs, and feet. I knew my hands might get one or two more, and maybe my neck if I wasn't paying attention. But for the most part, I thought I was safe.
Thought is the operative word there. The next day, I woke up with 22 bites. C, I believe, had less than a handful, and he never even put on bug spray. Bastard. :)
And this past weekend, we went to his mom's house and sat out on the back deck for less than 15 minutes, and I came away with eight bites, all on my feet. Again, C came away with none.
I was even in bed one night, covers up to my neck, when I felt something land on my eyebrow. I brushed it away and felt something sticky on my finger. Sure enough, when I turned on the light I saw a squished mosquito on my hand. In my own bedroom! ARGH!
I'm surprised I haven't died from malaria/West Nile/yellow fever.
I have no idea why mosquitoes are so attracted to me. One web site I went to said they are often attracted to men, those who are overweight, and those with Type O blood. I'm not particularly any one of those things, while C takes two out of three. It's just not fair.
I even have poor blood circulation. Whenever they have to take blood it often takes the nurse a good minute or so to find a vein. Apparently they should employ mosquitoes to do the job because they have no problem finding my blood.
My blood must be fairly sweet or at least giving off some kind of pleasant aroma that attracts those damn bugs because it never fails. Any time I'm outside, and not even for an extended period of time, I could just be walking to my car, I put myself in jeopardy of being attacked by one of those vicious predators. And, seriously, those red spots itch like a mo-fo! I finally got over the patchwork of bites I had from the barbecue, and the cycle has begun all over again. ARGH!
I should start a club: People Who Are Often Bitten by Mosquitoes and Are Sick of It!
Hmmm. I'll have to work on the name. :)

Labor Day Weekend

Whew, what a weekend! Thank goodness it was three days long, because I needed the extra day to get some rest! :)
I worked six hours of overtime last week, which is a rare thing (I think it's only the second or third time this year I've gotten any extra hours). So when my supervisor asked if I wanted to get any more this weekend, I did think about it for a split second. But after such a long week, I was ready for three whole days off.
Saturday C and I went to my parents place for the day, and to hang out with my grandmother. She's going to be 89 in November and is struggling with her breathing, weight, and energy level. As a very active woman it's tough for her to be unable to do most of the things she enjoys. But many of our family still live in that area and visit her frequently, and of course she still watches the Red Sox. Nothing can stop her from doing that. :)
Anyway, we then had dinner at my parents place- delicious ham of which we got to take a few slices home (that'll be at least two days of dinner for work this short week.) We chatted about the upcoming election and how McCain chose an extremely conservative woman from Alaska to be his VP. My dad told us he heard a commentator say that McCain chose her because he realized how important the Eskimo vote would be in this election.
"Because he wasn't a comedian I wasn't expecting that, and I almost spit my food out," he said, as we all laughed.
After that the rest of the night was spent trying to keep my two nieces from destroying each other, along with my parents house. They both have the energy of a nuclear explosion, so putting them together just might cause one! :)
C and I came back home that night, since Sunday was his mom's birthday. We went over there for dinner (two free dinners- it was such a great weekend), and to play a game of Scrabble with C, his brother, his mom, and me. Usually I'm not much of a match for C or his mom (they've actively played Scrabble together for a long time) but I scored a come-from-behind victory to convince C that I wasn't letting his mom win on her birthday. It was my strategy all along. Really, it was. :)
That brings us to today, Monday, Labor Day, where we had absolutely no plans and haven't gone ANYWHERE. That's what the holiday's all about, right? And that's exactly how we planned to "celebrate."