December is too soon for me. I’m not ready to let go.
While I’m away, please go forth and enjoy this silly bunch of distractions, particularly the very silly hot guys/cats part, as well as the adorable Prince George gifs and the newly titled Disney movies (based on current movie naming trends).
Guess who’s being jerked around again on meds?
Last month, I had to get paperwork faxed to the insurance company to indicate that my pain management doc is writing my scripts because the primary doesn’t do that. Took forever to get my meds approved, but it finally happened.
This month? “You were never approved for pain management. And, oh, by the way, you have a new adjuster for your case. Her number is blah blah blah blah blah. Also, you have to have your attorney take care of this.”
First off, my case was settled and stipulated for continuing medical, so pain management is included. Also, I don’t really have an attorney any longer because see last sentence. As far as that new adjuster and the phone number? Went right back to the same woman who told me I had a new adjuster.
I’ve finally started to acclimate to the meds after two months and now it looks like I’ll be off all of them again, which means I’ll have to deal with the SSRI discontinuation syndrome bullshit. As well, I have faire this weekend and I need the meds to get through all the standing, moving, and activities that go along with the event.
Can you say “pissed”? I knew you could.
I shouldn’t have to go through this every fucking month. My body shouldn’t have to deal with the ups and downs that come with medication adjustments every few months that the insurance company decides to play games.
The doctor’s office is doing what they can to help push the scripts through for approval, but it doesn’t look like it’ll happen before I leave.
Just a few of my favorite Fletch shots.
The first two were taken in the shower, one of my handsome boy’s favorite places. Him inspecting the bench where we set all our shampoo and soap and such. Him up on the ledge.
And here we have Fletch up on the tree again. On the shelf that’s too small for his full figure.
Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and upon those in the tombs bestowing life!
Before the dawn, Mary and the women came and found the stone rolled away from the tomb. They heard the angelic voice: “Why do you seek among the dead as a man the One who is everlasting light? Behold the clothes in the grave! Go and proclaim to the world: The Lord is risen! He has slain death, as He is the Son of God, saving the race of men.”
Thou didst decend into the tomb, O Immortal, Thou didst destory the power of death! In victory didst Thou arise, O Christ God, proclaiming “Rejoice” to the myrrhbearing women, granting peace to Thy apostles, and bestowing resurrection to the fallen.
The angel cried to the Lady Full of Grace: Rejoice, O Pure Virgin! Again I say: Rejoice! Your Son is risen from His three days in the tomb! With Himself He has raised all the dead! Rejoice, all you people! Shine! Shine! O New Jerusalem! The Glory of the Lord has shone on you! Exalt now and be glad, O Zion! Be radiant, O Pure Theotokos, in the Resurrection of your Son!
Happy Easter, my friends!
One cat per chair. Nap time is sacred and I obviously disturbed them terribly. Celia’s givin’ me stink eye fo’ sho’
Forgive the glowing eyes. Sometimes you just can’t get around it with flash.
Then there was this shot. As you can see, Fletch is really a bit too large for the top shelf on the cat tree, but he likes it up there. Celia has recently taken it over as HER spot, though Fletch occasionally gets up there to play King of the Hill. Usually, it’s done with very little grace and much laughter (on our part).
Tonight, they’re being a little naughty. I’ve heard at least two separate jumps from counter to floor in the kitchen. That would be the diva. She hasn’t done that in a very long time. Apparently the chicken we fed her earlier has made her bold again.
And with that, I’m off to see what else I have hiding in my archives.
Somewhere, somehow, I think there’s a special manual cats read upon being adopted. In it, it clearly states that you (the cat) will often behave in an adorable manner in order to be forgiven for a multitude of behaviors.
For instance, you will chase things attached to strings at the end of sticks. You will roll over on your back and bat at a myriad of things. You will purr and blink your cute little eyes and twitch your whiskers and reach a paw out to lovingly pat your person. And then you will freak out over something, run through the house like a bat out of hell, poop under the bed, and hiss and growl at the person trying to help you.
Such is the case with our dear Fletch. He was playing feather chase cat fishing with King Arthur when he somehow got tangled up in the line, ran under the table, broke the dowel, and ran hissing and growling through the house with part of the dowel banging behind him. Celia became aware of the situation and ran after him. I’m not sure if it was because she felt sorry for him or because she was laughing at his plight (you can never tell with her). After seeking refuge under KA’s desk, Fletch then ran back under the table, banging around a bit more, and then took off for the bedroom. I’d been going for the scissors for KA to cut the line off Fletch’s foot while all this was happening and ended up going to the bedroom to fetch the Fletch. He was under the bed, growling, hissing, and generally being all kinds of pissed off. I don’t blame him. As I looked under the bed for him, I noticed a distinct odor and then saw the three turds. They were fresh. I knew they were his. I left him to calm down a bit, grabbed some toilet paper, scooped the poop, flushed it, washed my hands, and then gingerly got down on my knees to find my kitty. I began extracting the items stored under the bed. And then I saw him. No longer was he throwing his hissy fit. Instead, he was huddled under the bed looking rather forlorn. I pulled out the bag with the comforter. He didn’t budge. I could get the dowel cut off, so I did that. Then I left him for a moment to calm down. When I came back, I tried to talk him out from under the bed. No such luck. I psssttt’d him, I cooed at him, I whispered, I cajoled. All to no avail. So, risking life and limb, I grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him out. No resistance. No sound. Just a very sad look. I tried to loosen the knot on his back leg. Nope. Didn’t work. I called for KA to bring me the scissors (I don’t know why I put them away after I cut off the dowel. I wasn’t thinking). At this point, Fletch was in my lap and was very subdued, as if embarrassed by his plight. KA cut the line and we told Fletch he was a good boy for not struggling and told him he was okay. He just lay there. (I’m pretty sure the manual says you have to play dead when all else fails.)
Finally, after much comforting from us, he got up and sauntered out to the living room. Again, I think the manual requires you to act cool as a cucumber after you’ve wigged out. He then proceeded to flop down on the sofa, sigh heavily, and fall asleep as only a cat can do. He’s been rather sedate the rest of the day. No big, golden eyes hinting at mischief. No twitchy tail. Nothing but cool detachment and absolute disavowal of the freak out.
Needless to say, in the person section of the aforementioned manual, it says the person who is owned by said cat to cuddle and coddle cat as much as possible after any perceived trauma. And that we did.
Fletch survived his teeth cleaning yesterday. He was much better behaved after sedation, got through it all with flying colors, and lost a tooth in the process. As they were cleaning one of the teeth, it was so loose it just came out.
While he was gone, Celia the Diva was rather cuddly and wanted lots of attention. She didn’t seem to know what to do with herself all alone. She curled up in his spot on the couch and slept there for a while. The night before, I think she knew something was up because she spent a good ten minutes grooming Fletch…AND HE LET HER!
Once Fletch was home, the cats did their little “hi, nice to see ya” walk around one another and then he went into full play mode. He attacked my slipper, flipping it up and around, scampering everywhere with it. He grabbed whatever he could and played and played, and Celia actually reached out a paw to him as if to say, “remember me? I might like a little fun.” Later, he was wandering about and she was following him. She attempted to engage him in…something. Play? Terrorizing him? I couldn’t say. But it was definitely gentler than her normal approach. Is it too much to hope that they’ll begin playing together soon?
The boy is now zonked out on his tree, Celia up on the back of my chair. One of her favorite places. When I crawl into bed, I’m fairly sure she’ll follow as she’s been doing a great deal lately. (Shhh, don’t tell her I’m telling you this, but she actually climbed up on top of King Arthur the other night!)
Oh! And Fletch’s liver function test was down again. Celia’s, I’m sure, is still over-elevated, but I’m hoping she’s down a bit, too.
In other news on the cat front, he took his antibiotics like a total champ.
No one can sing about Prejudice the way Tim Minchin can.
We came home after a trip to the vet a few weeks ago to find the most blantant sexual act happening on our front steps.
With any luck, my doctor appointment WILL happen today as scheduled.
With any luck, my next nap will be free of nightmares.
With any luck, Celia will eat without us having to carry her food to her. The scaredy cat diva.
With any luck, I will make it through today on just a single dose of pain meds.
With any luck, I’ll get my photos from this weekend uploaded.
With any luck, I’ll remember where I left most of my marbles.
The cats did NOT get their teeth cleaned as scheduled. Instead, they were in for a day of testing and for…well, let’s just say the day didn’t go as it was supposed to.
I got a call. Fletch had elevated liver enzymes. Instead of being in range (that tops out at 100), he was at 250. Celia was at 750. Fletch was prepped for his dental procedure as his levels weren’t so high that they were felt to be dangerous. Then another call came in. “Is Fletch normally aggressive?” No. In fact, the only aggression he’s ever shown was once while I was holding him to keep him from Celia’s food. He got over it quickly. He’s the most laid back cat ever. He’s sweet and funny and silly and loving. Apparently the pre-sedation meds they gave him made him aggressive so the procedure was scrapped until next week and they’ll try something different on him.
With Celia’s liver enzymes so high, they didn’t even want to risk putting her under. Instead, they ran other tests to see what was possibly causing the spike. Nothing conclusive yet. Except there’s a prescription for special food for the two of them. It runs $60-80 per 4 pound bag.
The only things they’ve been taking are the meds that were prescribed by the vet. They had the ear meds. That’s done. Then a few days ago, they started on their antibiotics. And there’s L-Lysine for Fletch since he has a slightly herpetic lesion near his eye. Now there’s a new med: Adenosine. To help liver function. Directions indicate we can give each cat one half a pill twice a day. Considering how well the liquid dosing went, it seemed like a better, less stressful idea to crush it and put it in their food. It’s a pain to break down. It smells horrendous. But I’m willing to do it and see if that helps.
After all the phone calls and the return of the cats (who were NOT thrilled with the way their day went), I started thinking.
I don’t know that I want to spend that much money on food if we set out to give them a week of just regular food and no meds and no stress; maybe that will help lower their levels. I need to call the vet in the morning and ask if we can go that route.
Fletch has since gotten over his hatred of everyone and everything and is back to being playful and loving. Yay!
Celia has been hiding. When she’s not hiding, she wanders around mewling in the most pathetic manner. She barely ate. Fletch wanted to help her, but that shouldn’t happen as she needs her food and her meds. After hours of moving the food around and trying to prevent him from getting at it, Celia poked her head out from under the rocker, behind some boxes, and began to eat. She did a fair job, but there was a lot left. No matter what we did, Fletch still got to it. It looks like we’ll have to feed them in separate rooms, doors closed. It’s going to be an absolute bitch to do and we’re just gonna have to suck it up and do it.
Sigh. So much trouble for two little cats. Well, one little cat (who has lost weight since her last visit) and one BIG cat (who’s gained weight since his last visit). I love them dearly. So does King Arthur. It’s just hard to find out they have a plethora of health issues that are preventing them from having a long, healthy life. We’ll do it, though. That’s what we signed up for. We’re just going to have to work with the vet to try a few things before we go crazy money-wise on special food and extra procedures and the like.
That grinding sound, the one that seems rather faint, yet still ever-present? That’s us. Our teeth will be down to nubs soon, I’m sure.