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mallorys_cameraAnother awful day.
###
In the morning, I took Sybyl the cat to the vet. They’ll be boarding her while I’m in Sicily, and she needed immunizations.
In the past, L has taken care of her while I’ve been gone, but I’m thinking L has become a bit old (and yes, infirm) for that.
I’d priced the immunizations. Around $150.
But they wanted to do something called a “senior cat checkup.” (Senior? Sybyl is only eight, which would make her middle-aged in cat years!). And then because she’d caught that awful herpes eye infection from Rutger when I first adopted her, they wanted to do an eye examination with special dye, and a couple of other procedures, and the total fee for all this stuff was $350, which made me ulp.
They wanted to do bloodwork, too.
“What is the bloodwork going to show?” I wanted to know.
“Well, it will show if she has kidney issues or thyroid issues,” they told me.
“And how is that treated?” I asked.
With a special diet and dietary supplements, I was told.
I vetoed the bloodwork. I can do a preemptive special diet and dietary supplements without spending an additional $350, thank you very much.
They also told me that Sybyl needed dental work.
And prepared a price sheet for me—$1,200. But quite possibly more.
“So, when should we schedule the procedure for?” they asked me gaily.
“I’ll have to think about that one,” I told them.
###
During the worst of the three years, I lived in abject squalor in the Cement Bungalow, I was certain I was going to become homeless.
I did not become homeless. But I’m still not sure how.
The kindness of strangers was a huge factor.
And also, I gave up being proud.
Pride was a luxury item. I simply could not afford it. I simply had to accept the fact that constant humiliation and whining and squirming were my lot because they were survival strategies.
If I wanted to survive, I was gonna have to whine and squirm.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to survive. I didn’t like whining and squirming. But I had RTT to get through high school. I was pretty certain if I wasn’t on the scene, if Ben became the custodial parent, that he’d let RTT drop out of high school, and RTT’s life would be ruined.
###
As a family, we’d had a lot of pets—two dogs and a cat. When Ben walked out on me, he left me with the pets.
And I couldn’t get rid of them. Or maybe, I wouldn’t get rid of them. It wasn’t the pets’ fault my world had imploded. I’ve always had this semi-mystic thing about pets you adopt into your family, that you make a kind of covenant with them. The covenant is that you’ll care for them. For better and for worse. Just like marriage!
The cat was the Meezer (about whom I’ve written so frequently in this journal that I don’t want to describe her again. Suffice it to say she was borderline feral.)
The Meezer was the one member of the family who thrived that horrible year.
My chief recreation once I’d dispatched RTT (after daily screaming matches) to school was wandering the countryside with Milo the dog at my side. I’d become obsessed with beavers! I’d follow the beaver streams, study the dams and the lodges. If I was having a lucky day, I’d spy the industrious little creatures themselves. I’d hike miles and miles and miles and miles, following the beaver streams, and more than once, I’d hear an unfamiliar rustle in the deep woods, twirl around—and there would be the Meezer! She’d stalked me and Milo. Five miles, ten miles. It was all the same to the Meezer.
###
Twice during that awful year, the Meezer sustained life-threatening injuries or illnesses.
The first time, she got sprayed in the face by a skunk. Developed a chemical pneumonia. And became really, really ill.
I didn’t want her to die.
But there was no way I could afford to take her to a vet.
So, I decided to treat her myself.
Went down the hill to the Big Box pet store. Spent $10—which was a lot of money for me back then—on tetracycline, which the Big Box pet store sold for cleaning tropical fishtanks.
Tetracycline is a potent antibiotic, which is no longer prescribed because it stains teeth. It works on both humans and animals.
I titrated the therapeutic dose for the Meezer based on a guess of her weight. Isolated her in a closet away from the dogs. Dosed her and syringe-fed—she was too weak to eat—and lo and behold: She recovered. Was back to being her surly, unpleasant self in a week.
The second time, she showed up after a couple of days’ absence with a huge gash on her head.
This one was harder to treat because I actually had to suture the gash—which I did by tying her up in a sack so she couldn’t struggle with only her head sticking out and sewing the wound up with dental floss. (I figured dental floss stitches would eventually fall out as the wound healed—and I was right.) Had some tetracycline left over and gave her that as an anti-infection prophylactic.
She recovered that time, too.
And died at the ripe old age of 20, just four years ago, here in the quaint and scenic Hudson Valley.
###
I would have been proud of the results of my home veterinarian experiments except, like I say, pride was something I’d given up during that particular period in my life.
###
Anyway.
I did think of the Meezer as I was driving home from the vet with Sybyl.
I was crying—not hysterically enough to interfere with my driving. But still.
See, I don’t want to spend $1,200 plus on feline dentistry.
I mean, I probably could afford it, but let’s get real: I’d rather spend the money on a plane ticket to Edinburgh.
Does that make me a baaaaaaad cat custodian?
What did cats do before there were vets offering them trips to the dentist?
“Well, of course, you don’t want to spend $1,200 on a cat dentist,” L said when I got home, and we were discussing it. “I wouldn’t either. And that doesn’t mean we don’t love Sybyl.”
“I mean, even if I was making twice what I’m making, this is a world where there are people who are starving and doing without.” I was weeping again.
“You are not wrong,” L said cheerfully.
L has kind of a flakey affect but scratch that, and she is very sensible. Very grounding.
###
There was a tornado warning all day long. Mrs. Neighbor Ed was the one who informed me. She’s big in local emergency preparedness circles. “They’re sending all the kids home early from school.”
“Are there tornado sirens in Dutchess County?” I asked.
“I think so,” she said.
So, throughout the rest of the day, I stayed close to the casa. Remunerated. Watched the weather radar. Now the big thunderstorm cell was hunkering down in Delaware County. Now it was sidling over to Columbia County.
Hammered out a care plan for Sybyl: I’d invest in that high-tech litter that turns pink if the cat pee contains bad kidney cooties. I’d switch her preemptively to a safe-kidney diet. There are feline dental care solutions you can add to your cat’s water, and if she loses a couple of teeth before it starts working—well, then she loses a couple of teeth.
When the thunderstorm cell finally hit Hyde Park, it was anticlimactic. Half an hour of intense son et lumiere thunder and lightning. But no tornadoes.
###
This morning, it is sunny, bright, and not humid! Yay.
I’m still feeling a bit shaky. The world is a very insecure place.
But I can deal with it.
###
In the morning, I took Sybyl the cat to the vet. They’ll be boarding her while I’m in Sicily, and she needed immunizations.
In the past, L has taken care of her while I’ve been gone, but I’m thinking L has become a bit old (and yes, infirm) for that.
I’d priced the immunizations. Around $150.
But they wanted to do something called a “senior cat checkup.” (Senior? Sybyl is only eight, which would make her middle-aged in cat years!). And then because she’d caught that awful herpes eye infection from Rutger when I first adopted her, they wanted to do an eye examination with special dye, and a couple of other procedures, and the total fee for all this stuff was $350, which made me ulp.
They wanted to do bloodwork, too.
“What is the bloodwork going to show?” I wanted to know.
“Well, it will show if she has kidney issues or thyroid issues,” they told me.
“And how is that treated?” I asked.
With a special diet and dietary supplements, I was told.
I vetoed the bloodwork. I can do a preemptive special diet and dietary supplements without spending an additional $350, thank you very much.
They also told me that Sybyl needed dental work.
And prepared a price sheet for me—$1,200. But quite possibly more.
“So, when should we schedule the procedure for?” they asked me gaily.
“I’ll have to think about that one,” I told them.
###
During the worst of the three years, I lived in abject squalor in the Cement Bungalow, I was certain I was going to become homeless.
I did not become homeless. But I’m still not sure how.
The kindness of strangers was a huge factor.
And also, I gave up being proud.
Pride was a luxury item. I simply could not afford it. I simply had to accept the fact that constant humiliation and whining and squirming were my lot because they were survival strategies.
If I wanted to survive, I was gonna have to whine and squirm.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to survive. I didn’t like whining and squirming. But I had RTT to get through high school. I was pretty certain if I wasn’t on the scene, if Ben became the custodial parent, that he’d let RTT drop out of high school, and RTT’s life would be ruined.
###
As a family, we’d had a lot of pets—two dogs and a cat. When Ben walked out on me, he left me with the pets.
And I couldn’t get rid of them. Or maybe, I wouldn’t get rid of them. It wasn’t the pets’ fault my world had imploded. I’ve always had this semi-mystic thing about pets you adopt into your family, that you make a kind of covenant with them. The covenant is that you’ll care for them. For better and for worse. Just like marriage!
The cat was the Meezer (about whom I’ve written so frequently in this journal that I don’t want to describe her again. Suffice it to say she was borderline feral.)
The Meezer was the one member of the family who thrived that horrible year.
My chief recreation once I’d dispatched RTT (after daily screaming matches) to school was wandering the countryside with Milo the dog at my side. I’d become obsessed with beavers! I’d follow the beaver streams, study the dams and the lodges. If I was having a lucky day, I’d spy the industrious little creatures themselves. I’d hike miles and miles and miles and miles, following the beaver streams, and more than once, I’d hear an unfamiliar rustle in the deep woods, twirl around—and there would be the Meezer! She’d stalked me and Milo. Five miles, ten miles. It was all the same to the Meezer.
###
Twice during that awful year, the Meezer sustained life-threatening injuries or illnesses.
The first time, she got sprayed in the face by a skunk. Developed a chemical pneumonia. And became really, really ill.
I didn’t want her to die.
But there was no way I could afford to take her to a vet.
So, I decided to treat her myself.
Went down the hill to the Big Box pet store. Spent $10—which was a lot of money for me back then—on tetracycline, which the Big Box pet store sold for cleaning tropical fishtanks.
Tetracycline is a potent antibiotic, which is no longer prescribed because it stains teeth. It works on both humans and animals.
I titrated the therapeutic dose for the Meezer based on a guess of her weight. Isolated her in a closet away from the dogs. Dosed her and syringe-fed—she was too weak to eat—and lo and behold: She recovered. Was back to being her surly, unpleasant self in a week.
The second time, she showed up after a couple of days’ absence with a huge gash on her head.
This one was harder to treat because I actually had to suture the gash—which I did by tying her up in a sack so she couldn’t struggle with only her head sticking out and sewing the wound up with dental floss. (I figured dental floss stitches would eventually fall out as the wound healed—and I was right.) Had some tetracycline left over and gave her that as an anti-infection prophylactic.
She recovered that time, too.
And died at the ripe old age of 20, just four years ago, here in the quaint and scenic Hudson Valley.
###
I would have been proud of the results of my home veterinarian experiments except, like I say, pride was something I’d given up during that particular period in my life.
###
Anyway.
I did think of the Meezer as I was driving home from the vet with Sybyl.
I was crying—not hysterically enough to interfere with my driving. But still.
See, I don’t want to spend $1,200 plus on feline dentistry.
I mean, I probably could afford it, but let’s get real: I’d rather spend the money on a plane ticket to Edinburgh.
Does that make me a baaaaaaad cat custodian?
What did cats do before there were vets offering them trips to the dentist?
“Well, of course, you don’t want to spend $1,200 on a cat dentist,” L said when I got home, and we were discussing it. “I wouldn’t either. And that doesn’t mean we don’t love Sybyl.”
“I mean, even if I was making twice what I’m making, this is a world where there are people who are starving and doing without.” I was weeping again.
“You are not wrong,” L said cheerfully.
L has kind of a flakey affect but scratch that, and she is very sensible. Very grounding.
###
There was a tornado warning all day long. Mrs. Neighbor Ed was the one who informed me. She’s big in local emergency preparedness circles. “They’re sending all the kids home early from school.”
“Are there tornado sirens in Dutchess County?” I asked.
“I think so,” she said.
So, throughout the rest of the day, I stayed close to the casa. Remunerated. Watched the weather radar. Now the big thunderstorm cell was hunkering down in Delaware County. Now it was sidling over to Columbia County.
Hammered out a care plan for Sybyl: I’d invest in that high-tech litter that turns pink if the cat pee contains bad kidney cooties. I’d switch her preemptively to a safe-kidney diet. There are feline dental care solutions you can add to your cat’s water, and if she loses a couple of teeth before it starts working—well, then she loses a couple of teeth.
When the thunderstorm cell finally hit Hyde Park, it was anticlimactic. Half an hour of intense son et lumiere thunder and lightning. But no tornadoes.
###
This morning, it is sunny, bright, and not humid! Yay.
I’m still feeling a bit shaky. The world is a very insecure place.
But I can deal with it.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-17 09:30 pm (UTC)I'm tempted to do some inquiring into pet dentistry approaches on your behalf. My understanding is if you hit the stage of stomatitis, you need to look into having teeth pulled, but I know less about the more preventative stages of care.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-17 09:39 pm (UTC)I did some inquiring into pet dentistry approaches on my own. There aren't very many of them, and I suspect my income is too high to qualify for the ones that are out there.
Thing is I really am making a choice between travel and cat dentistry. And I'm opting for travel. And I'm feeling guilty about it, but yeah, I have to own it: I really would rather travel abroad than stay put with a cat who can pose for toothpaste commercials.
Sybyl doesn't appear to be in any pain, and she has no trouble eating dry food. If she did appear to be in pain, I'd probably make a different decision.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-17 10:40 pm (UTC)I can understand that vets feel obligated to offer optimal pet care. But I was also grateful to have found a vet who was pragmatic, too.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-17 10:57 pm (UTC)My father once called me from a petsmart asking how many adult cats he equaled, as he needed worm medicine and it’s a hassle to get at the doctor when you just know you have worms due to Lived Experience. Dosage is an inexact science.
I spend a lot on my cats’ health BUT it is because we are filthy at present. This has not always been the case. I asked if could surrender my last cat because I couldn’t pay for a needed surgery, if they would just save him, and the vet took pity on me and did the surgery and let me pay installments on a much discounted bill, and I’ve never forgotten that kindness. I did not have the skills to remove part of his intestine and sew him back up. I did, that same year, relocate my own elbow, because no human doctor was quite as nice as at that vet.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-18 12:31 am (UTC)Wow! You relocated your own elbow? I am impressed! I relocated a few shoulders back when I was an ER nurse, and it was so traumatic—more for the patient than for me, I'm sure. But it was still pretty traumatic for me. You must be very, very brave. And very, very sensible.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-18 12:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-05-18 11:12 am (UTC)Going from 150$ to 350$ "Because It Is Important Stuff!!!" bill and then going for 1.2k jackpot was really poor taste. Salesmen and their tactics...
no subject
Date: 2022-05-18 03:45 pm (UTC)I feel super conflicted about expensive medical interventions for animals, mainly for the reason you wailed at L, but also because I wonder at the cost benefit from the animal's perspective. I mean it depends on the animal's age and the proposed treatment and the prognosis and so on, but for instance, when it was proposed that we do chemotherapy for our dog, I turned it down: it would have been unpleasant for her to live through it, and then it would only--possibly--have increased her life by a year. Better for her to live with us comfortable and un-chemo'd until things got too painful, I figured.
Glad you're feeling more stable.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-18 03:58 pm (UTC)I was being a bit disingenuous with the reason I wailed at L because it's not as though I'm gonna donate the $1,200 I save on feline dentistry to Worthy Causes.
No, I'm gonna spend it on my own selfish desires!
But, still.
your DIY vetting
I was an ER nurse for the first 10 years of my working life and also volunteered a lot at various Free Clinics in Berkeley. So, I know quite a lot about what one might term "street medicine." Come nuclear disaster, those survivalists would really do well to let me into their bomb shelter. I got cred! 😀
no subject
Date: 2022-05-18 04:01 pm (UTC)And I've dealt with this vet before. He was pretty kind to me when I finally decided it was time for the Meezer to go stalking in the Great Beyond.
I was essentially guilt-tripping myself.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-18 05:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-05-18 05:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-05-18 07:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-05-19 12:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-05-19 12:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-05-19 12:09 pm (UTC)Yeah, it was like that.
And healthcare for humans in the U.S. is kind of like that, too.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-21 08:45 am (UTC)Of course I am a bit biased in this matter because we are so looking forward to seeing you. Veterinary services really can become a money sink. Years ago when Surya's windpipe was accidentally gashed by an anaesthetist prior to a dental operation, she was swollen up like a balloon. The locum tried to sting us for all sorts of expensive tests. When the old vet got back, he apologised and knocked some money off the bill, but yes, sometimes they're a bit unscrupulous.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-21 01:01 pm (UTC)And Sybyl will be fine.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-22 07:23 am (UTC)Lots of Love to you and Sybil :-) XXX
no subject
Date: 2022-05-22 09:53 am (UTC)