I still don’t have the results of my biopsy yet, and it’s been all I can do to not think about it, so what I’m enjoying are the near-constant “Any news?” queries. That’s helping. Yep.
Fortunately, there was a lot of work to do at work yesterday and also I had a hair appointment right after, which was going to keep me occupied for several hours and yay.
Except I didn’t go.
I went home at lunch, as I am wont to do. I always come home to let Edsel out, who by the way almost never really wants to go out, but since I make a point of coming home to let him out instead of bonding with my coworkers over hummus or whatever they do at lunch, I force him to go out, which if you think about it is all ridiculous.
It’s like how Oreos makes Cookies-and-Creme flavor Oreos.
Anyway, what I usually do is throw Blu for Edsel during lunch, which means then he actually wants to go out, and at some point in his fetching he stops, with Blu in his mouth, and lifts his leg on a tree and then I feel vindicated for coming home to let him out to pee.
But yesterday when I opened the back door to play with Eds, there was blood all over the steps. A lot of it. It had grass in it.
Iris has been disinterested in eating the last two days, and I figured it was cause I’d refrigerated her food. I was in some sort of online discussion somewhere about cats, and this is the sadness that is my life. In said chat, someone asked, “What and how much do you feed your cat?” and I realized I feed mine a lot more than other people. I was giving each cat a can in the morning and a can at night and then kibble all day.
Lily is too fat to jump on the dryer to eat, so I wasn’t worried she’d overeat, but in another Oreo-flavored Oreo moment, right then I knew she was fat because I gave her too damn much food when I hefted her up to her dining dryer. Cafe du Kenmore.
So now I’m giving them half a can each per day.
Iris gets special $97-a-can food for her irritable bowel/stomach cancer (they aren’t sure which it is and the only way to tell is, wait for it
I started giving her just half a can, then refrigerating the remainder and then because you know how I am, the next meal I’d open another can and say, OH GODDAMMIT and then put half of THAT in the fridge, so mealtime after mealtime, Iris was getting chilled food.
I even heated it in the microwave a bit and she wasn’t interested. “She really hates chilled food,” I told myself.
And because I’m distracted or living in denial, I wasn’t concerned. Until I saw the blood on the steps.
Because yesterday morning, after she didn’t eat, she wanted out, which is not like her anymore. Iris rarely asks to go out, and if she does she just hangs on the patio. And sure enough, after a few minutes yesterday morning, she wanted back in. Milhous was in as well, splayed across my bed like he was sleeping it off.
So that’s why I knew, when I saw the blood on the stairs at lunch, that Iris had thrown up blood.
And here’s what I did. I just went numb. It’s like I have a candy coating right now, but one of those bad candy coatings, like Spree.
I’m no longer scared of the biopsy phone call. And I haven’t cried about Iris. I haven’t done anything but sort of robotically do what I have to do.
The vet’s office was at lunch, natch, but to their credit the vet herself called me right after lunch. I like that place. The Cat Clinic on Battleground, if you’re local. Miss Jackson, if you’re nasty.
They told me to bring her in at 4:00 and I thought, Oh no.
Since August, I’ve been nothing but car accidents and mysterious illnesses. My calendar at work has stickers at the back of it that you can use to remind yourself of eye appointments, birthdays, etc., because God forbid you just write them down there. The point is my January is covered in
“I’m afraid to tell [Boss] that I have to go to the vet at 4:00,” I told Wedding Alex.
As soon as I said that, Boss walked by. I told her what was up. “I know I’ve been nothing but emergencies for months,” I began.
“I don’t think you’ve taken enough time off, with all the things you have going on,” she said.
I have the good kind of boss.
So at 3:30 I robotically went home, got poor Iris in the carrier, and took her to the vet. They pressed on her stomach, and
“MEOW!” she screeched. She did that several more times as they pressed other places. She’s usually so quiet. They could tell she’s bloated, too. They took her in for an x-ray.
When they were gone I sat there like an animatron that was out of batteries. I got a text.
“Any news on your biopsy?”
I ignored it.
They don’t see a mass in her stomach, which is good, but the lab tests will tell us more. I wonder if the same lab that’s looking at my girl’s blood is also looking at my uterus? I wonder if her blood and my uterus are all, Heyyy! What’re YOU doing here?
So that was $560 I hadn’t planned to spend, two days before payday, which means I had to fricken charge it and I’d had my cards at zero point zero, and was just thinking, Oooo, I can have savings again this pay period!
My theory is her blood work will come back fine, and I still won’t know for sure what’s wrong with her. She’s on pain medicine and an anti-nausea drop, but she wouldn’t eat again today. Eventually I got her to nibble at a few pieces of the other cats’ food, which she isn’t supposed to have but she hasn’t eaten now in 48 hours at least. So.
Every time she sees me she runs away from me, with her fluffy trousers wisping, because she thinks Ima give her medicine. This is not how I want things to end with Iris.
That about sums it up and I’m certain you’re glad you came to this funny, funny blog today.