Monday, August 15, 2011

Calypso's mother, Tabitha, died over the weekend. She was 16. She had been a part of my brother's family most of those years, in a menagerie-like household that at one time hosted as many as five cats and two dogs.

I'm biased when I say Tabitha was perhaps my favorite of Jared's cats. She shared roughly the same body type as Calypso --different markings, of course -- but when I looked at or played with her, I couldn't help but be reminded of my own cat.

Tabitha had been on a slow decline the last year of her life, with mounting health issues ranging from arthritis, IBD and a non-existent appetite. In the end, it was a sudden neurological episode --possibly a stroke-- that proved fatal. The damage to her brain had left her unable to lift her own head. With heavy heart, my brother ended her suffering. We mourn the loss of his beloved pet.

Calypso's latest bloodwork no longer shows any sign of anemia, which is encouraging news. However, lately it seems my vet's updates end on an ominous note. He said her kidneys don't seem to be doing too well, coining her condition "primary renal insufficiency with azotemia." Her creatinine level was 2.4 and her BUN was 48, when normal ranges should be 0.8-2.3 and 15-34, respectively. What's interesting is that her counts only three months ago were normal; while the creatinine count three tests ago were higher than they are now.

With what my vet regarded as "less than 25% remaining kidney function," Calypso will be getting wet food almost exclusively. I've noticed her water intake has ramped up a bit, a classic sign of weakening kidneys. While the vet attributed this recent finding to her advancing age, I wondered if the latest surgery didn't also tax her kidneys a bit.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Calypso took another trip to the vet today to have her sutures removed. While she was sedated, blood was drawn for more tests to gain further clues as to what's causing her anemia. I should know more about that by next week.

With the sutures out, Calypso's paw looks much more normal. I'm sure on some level she's glad to have that seven-year-old tumor removed. The pathology reports defined it as a benign "mast cell tumor." Apparently they're very common in cats.

Calypso's demeanor and appetite both seem at their usual levels; she doesn't have the incapaciting, life-threating level of anemia that Katherine had suffered through, so any effects must be too subtle for me to spot.

Friday, May 20, 2011

Over the last 12 hours, Calypso has become increasingly lethargic. She hasn't moved much and I'm not sure if she's discouraged by the large, floppy bandage she keeps tripping over or if she has an infection or something worse.

Calypso is definitely not drinking a lot of water. She's still eating wet food, but I have to prompt her, when in all years past, it was she doing the prompting. This morning after eating, she proceeded downstairs to the basement, where she rested on a floor cushion I've never seen her sit on before.

These all seem ominous queues, though it's hard for me to distinguish between expected post-surgery behavior vs. something the vet needs to address immediately.

Erring on the side of caution, the vet suggested I return Calypso for evaluation. She's over there now. I'm hoping this isn't something she can't recover from.

I'm really kicking myself. This was exactly why I'd avoided surgery the last seven years. She seemed fine with the damn fleshy piece on her paw --why mess with it? Now I'm afraid the surgery will mark the start of a spiraling downhill course.

Calypso is back home --the news from the vet was surprising. No, she wasn't dying; she did not have an infection; all the weird behavior did not signal doom. No, as a result of all the stress and surgery, Calypso was suffering from...constipation. That's right. She peed on my living room carpet because she was a wee bit "irregular."

The other piece of good news: Calypso no longer needed to wear the bandage. When my vet had told me "2-3 days," he wasn't referring to the sutures, but the bandage. The sutures still need to remain until Wednesday, but she no longer had to limp around on what looked like a puffy white clown shoe. With colon cleansed, fluids administered and bandage removed, Calypso is a brand new kitty.

But her butt is apparently still a little itchy from the vet's "violation," because over the course of the last few hours, Calypso has been dragging it against the carpet like a dog. Bon Appetit!

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Shortly after I arrived home from work today, Calypso limped into the living room, flopping around her over-sized, ever-loosening bandage dangling from her paw. I noted how unusual it was for her to be sniffing around the carpet by the front door. She's never over there. She continued sniffing, circling, as if trying to find a good place to...

CALYPSO!!!! NO!!

But, of course, it was too late. Her rear was already hunched down in the universal, "Quiet, numbskull, I'm pissing" pose that all cats assume. Snatching Calypso mid-stream, I took her down to the basement near a litterbox, ignoring her protests. I spent the next 15 minutes sopping up the pee with what seemed like an entire roll of paper towels, then sprayed the area with liberal doses of Nature's Miracle.

My plan is to try to get Calypso back to the vet tomorrow to at least have her bandages re-dressed. In the meantime, a litterbox is now upstairs for her to get to without trying to limp to the basement.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Today I removed one of the two bandages --the one on the left front paw where Calypso's IV had been administered. That bandage was only there to stop the initial bleeding, and it didn't seem necessary (other than it acting as a diversion against her licking the other, more important bandage on her right front paw).

The bandage covering the sutures seems longer than it needs to be, or it's sliding off her foot --maybe a little of both. There's more padding on the end, ostensibly to provide cushion and to keep direct contact away from the healing wound. The floppy length of the "cast" makes it very difficult for Calypso to walk and I can tell she's pretty frustrated and depressed by it. Thankfully, she made it down the stairs this morning to use the litterbox. I was afraid she might soil my bed or something. That may still happen. Her appetite is pretty good considering the circumstances.

When I called the vet today to schedule a time to have her sutures removed in the "2-3" days that I was told, the technician corrected me by saying it would be a minimum of 7-10 days before the bandage can come off. I was definitely disappointed to hear that --it means somehow this bandage has to hold up to Calypso's incessant attempts to shake the bandage off, followed by repeatedly licking at it. The e-collar/cone will no doubt need to return soon.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

With much trepedation, I decided to go forward with Calypso's surgery. I dropped her off this morning on my way to work.

The vet is supposed to call me once they have the results of her preliminary bloodwork and X-rays and let me know if it appears there's a chance she could lose any digits from her paw. Those results will determine if I give the final approval to proceed.

I'm quite a bit on edge. The decision has been especially tough because Calypso has gotten along just fine these last eight years since the fleshy mass first appeared atop her right front paw. It never affected her. I feel my intervention could create a problem where before there was none. True, she's been gnawing at it most recently, and one could argue that it's already an issue that needs addressed before it becomes infected or worse.

The vet just called to tell me Calypso's X-rays look fine. He said no bones are involved with the tumor, so there won't be a need for any digit amputation. Most of her bloodwork is normal, except for the fact that she appears to be "a little anemic." Now, veteran Pussycam fans will recall that Katherine's first wave of problems started when she became severely anemic. Calypso appears to have a hematocrit level of 23, when normal ranges are about 27 or above. The vet surmised the lower level may just be age-related and isn't low enough to put off surgery. So, I've given the go-ahead.

Calypso's out of surgery and everything apparently went well. The vet said her paw is bandaged and she should return to have the sutures removed in about 2-3 days. The tissue from her paw will be sent to pathology for analysis to ensure there is no disease.

I'm looking forward to picking her up this afternoon. Calypso hasn't eaten in 17 hours pending the surgery, so I hope she has an appetite tonight despite the bandage, the cone around her head and the pain medication.

The vet mentioned I might want to purchase a newspaper-based kitty litter called "Yesterday's News," since it's easier on the paws.

It's been a frustrating evening for both Calypso and me. She arrived home around 4 pm. Growling and hissing while exiting the pet carrier, she stumbled forward with a hideous gait. The e-collar "cone" remained around her neck for all of 10 minutes before I decided to remove the damn thing. It's obviously too large for her. Any attempt she made to eat or drink ended in failure, as the cone impeded Calypso's ability to reach a bowl or a dish or even food placed directly on the floor.

Both paws are wrapped in bandages --one from the surgery, the other from the IV, so now Calypso walks with an exaggerated, double "high step" as she tries to navigate around, growling lowly in frustration the whole while.

Since Calypso's litterboxes are downstairs in the basement, I predict inappropriate soiling issues. She's very uncomfortable walking around: she's more apt to eat her own paw than go down a flight of stairs. Later, I decided to wash one of the litterboxes and fill it with this new, foreign newspaper material, leaving it at the top of the stairs. I'm afraid doing so will allow her to adopt further bad soiling habits. It just seems like she's being introduced to so many new and disconcerting stimuli that it will be too much for her old bones to take.

Tomorrow we should know more details about Calypso's anemia and possibly get a pathology report on the tumor. The sutures allegedly will be due for removal in a few days. It's going to be a long week.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Cats seem to have the uncanny ability to sense impending vet trips. My belief that I'm pretty discreet and sneaky about preparing the carrying case, positioning it near the front door upright to allow me to easily "drop" Calypso into it and quickly secure it, is irrelevant. The little fucker JUST KNOWS.

With stool sample secured and case at the ready, I tried to coax Calypso out from under the coffee table with cat treats. Nothing, except an indignant hiss or two. Yes, she's on to me.

Calypso deftly meandered behind the couch and then through a hallway to retreat under my bed. As the time of the vet appointment drew nearer, the situation quickly called for more desperate measures. My girlfriend got on one side with a broom while I waited on the other to "catch" her. With a swish, Calypso shot out, then cowered in my office. Above her head, near the computer monitor, rests Katherine's cremated remains. "You're next, Calypso," the urn taunted her, "he won't rest until we're both paperweights."

In a quick show of brute, "shock and awe" force, I shot my right hand out and firmly held the scruff of Calypso's neck, whisking her off the ground with the other hand, despite her alarmed cries. In seconds, she was secure in the carrying case, where anxious screams soon gave way to pitiful, pleading meows.

The soft, bulbous mass of soft tissue that had slowly grown atop Calypso's right front paw over the last eight years had finally become an issue: she'd recently begun gnawing at it so that now a good chunk of flesh had been removed, leaving a pitted, weepy crater. I was concerned about infection and the possibility that the growth had become cancerous.

When we arrived at the vet, I explained to the doctor how I'd avoided surgery in 2003 when I first noticed the then much smaller mass. The vet at that time had warned surgery may lead to complications, including the loss of her paw. That spooked me enough to leave it alone and take a "wait-and-see" approach. Days became months, months became years. And so here we are.

This vet, the same vet who had put Katherine down three years ago, suggested surgery. He was more optimistic of the outcome --he said it was highly unlikely Calypso would lose anything but maybe one digit from her paw, if that. He also didn't seem too concerned that her age of nearly 14 years would be an issue with surgery.

After Calypso was administered her regular round of vaccines and (very) reluctantly submitted to nail trimming, I was given an estimate range of $503 - $770 for the surgery.

I'll have to sleep on it. Do I let "sleeping cats lie" and hope she can endure the remainder of her years with this growing mass, or do I finally get it removed, possibly starting Calypso on a spiraling health decline due to her age? It's a tough call. The mass itself has never affected her walk or ever seemed to be much of an issue for her over the years, which only bolstered my rationale. But the situation has changed, and next week may likely mean Calypso will go under the knife for the second time in her life.

Monday, January 3, 2011

Do you hear that? It's the sound of a website slowly dying. Yes, it's been a year and a half since I last posted an entry. Since Kat's untimely (and somewhat gruesome) death, I've had a hard time returning to this site without getting overcome by a wave of guilt and loss.

Calypso is doing fine: she'll turn 14 in six months. She's still very active, eats like a champion and is now the quintessential lap cat, particularly during these cold months. She endured a brief health spat over the summer in which she kept vomiting her dry food. She was treated for fleas and allergies and then I started her on a regimin of wet food, which all seemed to resolve her symptoms. Alas, she's meowed at me every morning and evening with the expectation of canned food, so it's now a regular part of her "diet."

Calypso has trained me into a nightly, pre-bedtime period of play in which I'll spend 10 minutes dangling an old shoe string with colored wisps of tissue paper tied at the end. It's her favorite cat toy, aside from the laser mouse.

I've accumulated several cardboard boxes in my office room and, just for kicks, I assembled them into a makeshift kitty fort, where she finds extreme glee crawling into the dark, boxy catacombs and tunnels. It was meant as a temporary thing until I threw the boxes out, but they've lingered around for several months now.

Here's to a new year. May it be full of kitty health and happiness. And maybe, just maybe, more Pussycam entries.