Schrodinger's cat conversation

 

I had a lengthy conversation with Kitten on whether she's ready to pull the plug or not.   She answered quite vociferously, but I'm not sure if she was saying "yes, bitch, this sucks!" or "WTF, why are you killing me?!  It's just a flesh wound!"  

 

Perhaps both.  Life is complicated.  Love is complicated,  Death is complicated.  

 

Everyone I've asked said I'll know when it's the right time to euthanize her.  But she's deteriorating in small amounts, and it's not linear.  Today is maybe worse than yesterday or maybe better, but it's definitely worse than a few months ago.  Is there a point to stretching it out to get one more week with her?  It's keeping me in a state of constant low-level anxiety and stress.  How do I know what she's feeling??

I've been giving her palliative care the last few months, feeding her whatever she wants to eat whenever she wants it, including chicken, chicken hearts, liver, tilapia, peanut butter, brie cheese, cat treats, cricket bars, sardines, manchego cheese, superfood bars, and whatever I'm eating that day.  Sometimes she eats a bite, sometimes a whole meal, and sometimes nothing at all. 

She can still navigate the stairs, the couch (reluctantly), my bed (with a step-stool), and her litter box, albeit much more slowly than before.  And despite her extensive diet, she's lost quite a bit of weight.

I've never had to euthanize a loved one before, although I've had pets die on their own.  Today I will somehow find the strength to call a mobile euthanasia service (who knew that's a thing?) and figure out logistics.  

maybe progress?

I took Kitten for her follow-up vet visit.  She was feistier this time, so I took that as a good sign.  She heard me getting the cat carrier out and hid under the bed.  I had to coax her out with banana bread cricket bars, which they sadly no longer make.  I don't know why, but she loves these bars more than I do.  She wakes from a sound sleep when she smells one in the house.

 

 

Her leg is still swollen, but at least it's no longer bleeding.  The prognosis is it's likely a tumor.  However, she's rapidly approaching 16 years old, and I'm unwilling to subject her to a bunch of medical nonsense to increase her life.  I feel the same way about me.  Death with dignity for all.  

For now, I'm managing her wound and not doing a bunch of biopsies and surgeries.  She's eating well and limping gracefully around, tending to her feline duties.

two limping steps forward and one backward

Maybe she's getting better?  She started bleeding again, and I panicked and put the cone back on when I went to the gym.  And again, she wouldn't let herself relax while wearing it.  As soon as I took it off when I got home (I skipped celebratory lunch after working out), she walked a couple steps and collapsed into a nap.

My workout partner/friend noticed something was obviously wrong with me, especially when I said I was skipping burgers afterwards.  And I told him about Kitten.  When he was talking about various things to try, I suddenly remembered this stinky stuff that my brother recommended to me for my wounds.  It was made for animals but worked great on me, too.  So I rushed home to try it on her.

 

 

It stinks, just like I remembered, but it temporarily stopped the bleeding again.  In the meantime, the vet called me back, and I explained that I was having a hard time with the powder application.  He told me that it was a squeezie bottle and to shoot it out.  So now my house looks like an 80s coke party.  Perhaps some even landed on her injured leg.  I had previously been trying to shake it out like salt on a fine meal.

The vet also explained better why he thought it might be cancer, because the inflammation didn't respond to the initial cortisone shot.  She turns 16 soon, so at this point, I just want her to be comfortable in her final time in this simulation.

the downside of pets

My cat began limping a couple weeks ago.  I assumed it was old age until the bleeding started.  I took her to the vet, always a traumatic event for the both of us.  They barely looked at it, said it was a bug bite or something, gave her antibiotic and anti-inflammatory shots, and sent us home with a big bill.  But at least they treated her with dignity and were gentle, despite her hissing and yowling.

They wouldn't wrap the wound.  After cleaning up blood from way too many surfaces, I fashioned a type of bandage on her that held a day until it scabbed over.

 

 

Yesterday, she started bleeding again.  It had been ten days.  She saw a different vet at the same clinic.  He unceremoniously dumped her out of her carrier (WTF) and let her jump from the table to the floor.  Again, WTF??  Now she was in a foul mood.  But at least he took it seriously afterwards.  He shaved the spot to see it better, and then x-rayed her to see if the bone was affected.  He didn't seem to think it was, but still threw the cancer word around several times.

He gave me unrealistic instructions to follow, even when I tried to tell him it was impossible.  I felt like a bad mom for not being able to.  Again they wouldn't wrap the wound, and he gave me a powder to sprinkle on 3x a day.  WTF!  Try holding a cat down and turning their leg so you can sprinkle powder on the inside back leg.  It's a two person job.  And he gave her a cone to wear to keep her from licking it.  

 

 

I watched her pace the house, bumping into every wall, getting stuck on the stairs and in corners, for three hours.  It was horrible.  She was exhausted but wouldn't lie down and sleep.  In my struggle to put the fucking powder on her (yes I used a fucking towel, two in fact), her cone came off.  I finally powdered a bandage and tried to wrap the wound again.  I was also tired of following her and cleaning blood everywhere.  Once it was wrapped, I left the cone off, and she fell asleep about five steps from where she was.

She stayed there a couple hours until I lifted her onto the bed with me, on a few towels of course, in case the bandage came off.

This morning she ate her antibiotic pill in her pet pocket without any fuss.  I'm debating the whole powdering nonsense, but that much stress can't be good for her.

naps on a plane

Why do they call it a catnap?  My cat sleeps longer. 

It was the red-eye, and I got as comfy as can be expected, but I slept only an hour.  Maybe two tops.  I took the preemptive Excedrin, which has caffeine and probably didn't do me any favors.  But then I countered it with the free Mai-Tai, which has alcohol, combined with a boring movie and noise-canceling headphones.  

Mai-Tai

My insomnia helped me a little because I wasn't too tired when we landed at my layover.  Until two hours of riding moving sidewalks later, playing Pokemon Go and looking for a mailbox.  (Mailboxes have really gone out of vogue.  But I had a Hawaiian postcard to mail, that I forgot about when I was killing time in Honolulu airport.)  Anyway, after two hours of playing and questing, I got sleepy and needed to sit down.  

I hung out at my gate until boarding time, and then I caught my connection home.  No more sleeping, not even a non-cat catnap.

mama bear is fiercely emotional

Kitten was attacked by something two weeks ago.  She seemed shaken up and maybe bruised but relatively okay, no blood anywhere.  She was eating and using the litter box just fine.  Her lower back had a small lump which I thought was a bruise.  It turned out to be a nasty swollen infection, which I found out after it burst.  Ugggghhhhhhhhhhh.  So icky.

I cleaned her up with many warm, wet washcloths and hydrogen peroxide, after expressing the wound for a bit to make sure all the pus was out.  It bled clean, so I thought we had made a turn for the good.

But then yesterday, it started oozing pus again.  This morning she and I had a small conversation, and I explained that I needed to take her to the doctor.  I called the vet two minutes before they opened, and they said I could bring her right in.

I'm not sure who was traumatized more, Kitten or me.  She started howling while they held her down and shaved the spot.  Then he cleaned it, and more yowling.  Two shots (antibiotics and cortisone), and she was back in her carrier.  Meanwhile, I had to get a tissue and soak up the tears running down my face.  The vet assumed it was a cat that bit her, as those generally get infected.

I lugged her 13.4 pound pitiful ass back to the car and drove home.  She yowled some more for good measure.  She ate second breakfast and then went to hide in my closet.  Fingers crossed that she heals fast.

madness is creeping in

I've had more migraine days this month than non-migraine days.  But that's not a disability according to Social Security.  I'm still bitter.

Yesterday, I was able to workout at the gym with my friend and have a sushi lunch together.  It was the first time I felt like leaving my house in over a week.  I came home so recharged and refreshed.  I truly needed that.

I forced myself to go for a short walk a few days prior because I'm dumb and thought maybe fresh air and slight exercise might help.  I barely made it home without vomiting or fainting.

I've had many days of lying in bed with an ice-pack, wondering why.

Why bother?

Why me?

Why do I feel so young and fantastic some days and so old and decrepit others?

Why did life go so horribly wrong?

Yes, I know it's random and no deeper meaning, but my mind still yearns for answers.

I've been listening to audio books and am almost through the whole Chronicles of Narnia series.  It's mostly soothing, although I adjust the volume level every few minutes, depending on my AC running, the amount of rain falling, any other outside noise, the placement of the ice-pack on my face, and just general pain and irritation levels.  Plus there's one screechy talking mouse, Reepicheep, whose voice grates on my literal nerves.  My trigeminal starts to attack me when he talks.

I have moments of lucidity when the meds kick in so I can feed the cat and myself, although my appetite hasn't been prodigious except for after the gym.  Mostly I've been surviving on frozen food because standing (or sitting on the floor) at the microwave for four minutes is about all I can endure.

My supplies are running low, and I will have to venture forth soon to replenish them.  I keep telling myself tomorrow I will wake up better.  It's kind of amazing how resilient hope is, even when all of the evidence is to the contrary.

USPS makes me want to punch a pillow

I don't often ship stuff, but when I do, it used to be convenient to login to usps.com and print my own label.  Until they broke their website.  I assumed it was a systemic problem when I tried it in October, and all forms of payment were declined.  When I clicked on contact us, they emailed a generic reply that my credit card was bad.  Go fuck yourselves. 

I went in person and was told they had been doing system maintenance.  I tried again recently because who likes going to the post office even if I have plenty of time?  Same error message.  And it's a new credit card (because mine was scammed at Disney World maybe), which I know works. 

I started searching online (why yes, I do use DuckDuckGo.  Are DDG users as annoying as vegans?  Asking for a friend) and found this has been an ongoing complaint for many years.  What the fucking fuck!  Hundreds of people have had this problem, at a minimum.  I'm assuming there are even more than that like me, who didn't post in those forums. 

The solution it seems is to have tech support unlock one's account.  I emailed and they reset my password, but it still declined my payment.   Go fuck yourself.   I called, and the woman said "oh I can't do that, that's tech support."  WTF.  That's who I called from your website.  She transferred me.  I explain again, and she says it's a technical error.  She'll transfer the issue to tech support.  Sigh.  She sounded positive, so I'm trying to be, too.  

While I was on hold, my cat opened her sleepy eyes in a disgusted manner, and left my presence.  She was not a fan of their hold music.  

Iguanageddon

It was raining iguanas the past few days.  Although maybe iguana hail is a better term.  They started thumping down on my roof and then scrabbling dazed onto the warm tiles.

At one point, Kitten was on high alert.  She ran through the house, checking in at every window she could see through.  I followed closely behind with my camera.  Unfortunately I am not a great photographer, but I did manage a couple of photos.

A baby iguana parked himself on my window sill before the freeze.  He wedged himself in pretty good and stayed for four days.

baby iguana in frozen stasis

trying to intimidate me

we both scared each other

Ever watchful

'sup?

topper revealed, with gratuitous cat pics

What's all this?

What's in here?

I'll just jump in and look

Now what?

new fluffy topper

A cover is recommended.  Sigh

P.S. I ordered a new mattress protector today.  And bonus hair-care products because I have that addiction, too.

riding the storm out

That song has been stuck in my head.  It's REO Speedwagon if you aren't familiar.  It's not quite applicable, but good enough.  It's weird what goes through my mind when I can't distract myself with the usual methods.

Kitten and I decided not to ride out the storm by ourselves, so we went to visit a friend, where thankfully we had our own room.  I kept her locked in there because I was terrified she might run away to hide, and I'd never find her.  Plus now wasn't the time to see how well she could get along with others.  She kept her new pretty pink harness on for 3 days straight just in case I needed to grab her fast.  And because I wrote phone numbers on it in Sharpie.  Mostly she snuggled on the bed, glued to my side.

During the most intense part of the storm, after losing power, when tornado cells were popping up everywhere every few seconds according to the news on the portable radio, she ran into her new carrier all by herself to hide.  I locked it, grabbed my pillow, and rested my head on top of the crate, sitting on the floor, against an interior wall.

I turned off the radio because it was only amping up my anxiety.  So many tornadic cells, they could barely announce them all before a new one showed up.  My friend was in another room calming his pets.  I knew we had close to six hours of this before it lightened up a little.  I kept my ear tuned in for the roar of a tornado, ready to grab her and run, but fortunately didn't hear it.
 

Spoiler alert:  We survived.  :)

bacon and meds

I think I've finally finished all of my outside hurricane prep.  My mindset keeps going between anxiety and resignation, mixed with a smidge of adventure.  I remember the hurricanes of past years when we went outside, albeit somewhat sheltered from my home, to see mother nature in all her glory and ferocity. 

But I was a decade younger then.   And not flying solo.  Therefore, no plans for that this time around.

My out of state family keeps hounding me to leave.  But they don't understand that I'm in pain with a migraine.  I have no energy and no patience for other people.  Add in a nervous cat.  And bumper to bumper traffic for 500 miles. 

The hurricane started looking better, am I right?  

I cooked up a bunch of bacon before it goes bad, washed it down with imitrex, and went back to bed.  

is there a maximum level of fear?

I haven't reached it yet.

I'd been having floaters in my good eye for the past few days.  I kept trying to ignore them, but I started to worry and then googled.  And worried even more.  So I called my doc, who said come in ASAP.  I didn't even get to finish lunch.  Although mostly I'd lost my appetite because of the adrenaline. 

I was awake at 3:30 am, wide awake by 5 am, and bringing in patio furniture by 7 am.  No alarm clocks or coffee required, only a 185 mph monster hurricane heading my way.

I called my manager at 8 am and rescheduled everything after today.

In between meetings, I rushed over to the pet store to buy a cat carrier, cat harness, cat leash, and cat sedatives.

Anyway, back to the floaters, which I'd been trying to ignore.  I dropped my bacon on the plate, brushed my teeth, and drove to the doc.  The good news is that it's merely a vitreous detachment and not a retinal detachment or tear.  The bad news is that I am high risk because of my previous one, and this could still cause one.

Six hours later, my eyes are still dilated, and I am medicated with a migraine.  I guess I'll finish the yard preparations tomorrow.

pep talk time

I gave myself a major pep talk his morning when I realized I probably won't escape Hurricane Irma unscathed.  I've been stocking up on food and water for the last few months, so I should be fine for that.  But somehow the fear and anxiety were incapacitating me.

Why though?

I put myself back into my memories of many previous storms.  Heard the sounds, felt the magnificent force of the winds.  And realized that while it sucked, I survived.  And I either will or won't this time.  Now, I'm more concerned with the Cat 5 migraine I expect to accompany this. 

Which will make evacuating impossible.  Because driving with a migraine isn't smart.  The pressure already started dropping today, and I felt the first twinges of one.  So, I have two designated safe rooms in my house in case I start losing windows and walls.

I made lists this morning of everything I need to do and what to pack in a bug-out bag.  I'll refine those as new things occur to me.

I took out the cat carrier, which Kitten hates and ran from after one sniff.  I'm not even sure she'll fit well in it anymore.  I may look for a larger one at the store tomorrow.

Yesterday, I photographed most of my belongings in case I need to make an insurance claim.  I have no idea how useful it will be.  Perhaps I can use those pics to remember this phase of my life.  Later this week, I will walk through my home and say goodbye to everything.  It's a good reminder to not get too attached to material things.

I've been trying to use up my perishable food in case I lose power for an extended time.

In a couple of days, when the path is more certain, I will start bringing in my patio furniture.

I can do this.

it's a kittenversary, again!

Happy Kitten Day!  Isn't she adorable?

 

can you hear me now?

How about now?  How about when my phone shuts off by itself?

My cell phone spontaneously shut off once or twice while I had it, but it restarted again, so I didn't bother calling Support.  Until it happened two times within a week.  Which happened to be the week after the warranty expired. 

I called in and spoke with a really nice woman, who patiently walked me through some troubleshooting steps.  I had already tried the obvious ones.  Obviously.  :)

She finally transferred me to Level 2 Tech Support, but as these things do, the call got stuck in limbo, and I hung up after 5 minutes of listening to a weird beeping.  I waited a few minutes to see if she would call back.  Nope.  So, I decided to call in again and ask nicely to be transferred like I was supposed to.  Nope.

My second call did not play out as nicely as the first.  To put it bluntly, the man was a jerk.  And I may have been a smidge irritated.  He wanted to go through all of the steps again.  And when I refused and asked to be transferred to Tech Support, he got his feathers ruffled and said he was Support.  His solution was to go nuclear and do a factory reset.  I wonder why I refused.  Dumbass.

What he didn't know is that while we were speaking, Kitten meowed to come inside, and I distractedly let her in.  In my defense, I hadn't had to deal with this in months, so I forgot.  She came running in with a live baby iguana in her mouth.  Which she promptly dropped in the dining room.  Below I have a blurry pic that I took whilst arguing with Mr. I Know What I'm Doing.

Just then, another call came in, which was Level 2 calling me back.  I tried to politely hang up with Mr. Ego, but he wouldn't let me get in a word edgewise, so I hung up on him.   Yes, it was rude, but I didn't want to miss Level 2.  She was also awesome and very helpful.  Mr. Dumbfuck didn't like being hung up on and tried calling me back several times.  He also sent a childish text message with grammar mistakes.

Ms. Level 2 Awesome was super nice and tried a few other things before suggesting the problem was my phone.

While talking to her, the fucking lizard came running at me.  I did the adult thing, and ran into my office and shut the door.  Because why would a lizard run under a door when it has a giant scary predator chasing it?  But I'm jumping ahead.

As I'm troubleshooting with Ms. Courteous Competence, I see Kitten's paws under my door trying to get in.  I assumed she wanted attention.

Because it was one week out of warranty, Ms. Amazing did an override to get me a free replacement.

I hung up happy and opened my door to see Kitten come rushing in and look behind my filing cabinet.  Uh oh.

And that's when I realized THE FUCKING LIZARD WAS LOST IN MY OFFICE!

Kitten is a bad-ass though and promptly found him and disposed of the evidence.  Mostly.

Kitten adding chaos to my already stressed day

pretty sure the loop is no longer a scenario

But I'm scared to put the goat milk away.  It's sitting in a place of honor on my buffet.  It reminds me how fortunate I am.  My brother asked me if that was the same can I've had for years.  It is not.  I've used it and replaced it as necessary.  I think a few cans were foster kitty dinners.  I keep the can current in case I ever need to use it for food.

I've been on my hands and knees scrubbing my back deck because it's filthy.  And cleaning is therapeutic.  Plus the furniture is all moved, so I have easy access.  It's hard work, and I'm anemic again (what else is new), so I get out of breath frequently and have to take breaks.  I hope to finish in a few more days.  It's a great way to get in an hour of exercise when I first wake up.  It's a nice stress-release, too.  And the weather has been cooperating.

My nightmares are lessening, and Kitten has calmed down, as well. 

I need to clean my front porch, too.  Something puked on it, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't Kitten.  I'm guessing some other cat took refuge from the storm in the alcove and had anxiety.  I rarely go outside through that door, so I keep forgetting to clean it.  It's just a couple blades of grass, so it isn't nasty.  And it's incredibly easy to procrastinate uncoiling and dragging the hose around.  Plus, I know I'll have mission creep.  It's taking discipline to finish the back first and not have many started, incomplete projects.

life is a terminal disease

As Jim Morrison famously said, no one here gets out alive.  So much death this week.  Fortunately (for selfish me), no one I was extremely close with.  What the fuck happened this week?  Major earthquakes, beloved celebrity deaths, multiple execution-style killings.  It's all making my 49-hour migraine look like child's play.  Why was I even whining?

However, as I've been told, comparison is the ultimate thief of joy.  Does that apply only when I'm on the losing side?  I'm pretty sure gratitude comes into focus when I'm on the winning side.  Well, gratitude and guilt, of course, because guilt is insidious, like those tiny sugar ants, working their way into crevices.

But death is not to be feared.  It's easy.  Living is what's brutal.  Look at the suicide statistics that were released yesterday saying it's at a 30 year high.  Everyone has theories, but they all kind of underscore the point that life is fkn harder now.  Even as it has dichotomously gotten easier.

The death of someone is for the living to assimilate, not mandate, which takes away our illusion of control.  Scary shit.  Which brings us back full circle to fearing death, defined as either the ultimate loss of control or the ultimate way to control, depending on one's outlook.

Dunno about you, but I'm going to do something I can control and tell my friends and family how much they mean to me and snuggle my cat until I annoy her.

Annnd, she's annoyed.  :)

didn't have to cancel

I medicated like a mofo yesterday and was able to keep my movie plans. Yippee! 

In other news, Deadpool is a fun movie.  There were tons of jokes ad funny references, although I'm sure I missed a bunch because my brain was not firing on all cylinders.

The migraine sort of dissipated yesterday afternoon after dose #4, but I can feel it lingering in the fog of my head, waiting to pounce.  Today is going to be a 'take it easy, Wendy,' self-care kind of day.  Fortunately I have the day off from work, so that helps. 

However, no one told Kitten, who quite insistently woke me at 6:26 am, despite it being prime coyote time.  There was much whining and crying (by both of us) until I felt it was light enough to disperse the potential coyotes.  When I finally let her out the back door, she got spooked and came right back in.  She decided the front yard was more secure.  You'll be happy to know, she's safely inside now, napping on my desk, with her belly full of pork tenderloin.

A nap soon sounds delightful.

Fat Tuesday and pancakes

My New Year's do-over didn't go exactly as planned, but it was a migraine-free day, so it still goes into the Plus Column.  I had a bit of a down day, some sadness and tears, barely any human contact (mostly by choice), and lots of Kitten snuggling. 

Kitten also had a difficult New Year's day.  She went out for her morning constitutional and got into a feline altercation.  I never saw the other cat, but Kitten was ready to come in early, puffy tail and all.  I stuffed her full of pork tenderloin, and she kept vigilant watch over her domain from the safety of inside.  Usually, she naps right away, but she stayed awake and patrolled the interior perimeter looking for interlopers for at least an hour.

Today, I was a bit hesitant to let her out, but she was so insistently whiny that I soon relented.  No fights today, and no injuries yesterday (that I noticed) besides her pride.

Apparently today is Fat Tuesday and Pancake Tuesday, depending on how you were raised.  I was raised by wolves, so I am appropriating both, minus any religious affiliations, of course.  I used sweetened, condensed milk in my Wendycoffee today, which I'm pretty sure counts as rich and extravagant food.  Maybe I'll make some high-protein pancakes later on.  With lots of butter.  But no syrup, because ewww.  Yeah, I know that's virtually un-American, but despite me using sweetened, condensed milk in my coffee, I'm not a big fan of sugar.