Clickity Clack - You Will Be Missed

Heidi, my Mother's dog, passed away over the weekend.  She was an older girl, at least 15, and had a lot of health issues.  We were trying to keep her functioning for my Mother, but it finally got to be too much for the fuzzy dog.  She started having multiple seizures last week so I planned to bring her to the vet on Saturday for the procedure.  Friday night was awful as she was having bouts of breathing difficulties, but that helped my Mother understand that it truly was time to let her go. It was sad but she went very peacefully, surrounded by people who loved her.  Although my cats are no substitute for my Mother's best friend, it does help her to have them around.  After losing a pet, an empty house can be unbearable.  My Mother has been having more frequent conversations with the cats which is good for her.  In fact, one of them has agreed to pretend to be a dog.  And people think cats are all about themselves!  Good bye Heidi.  We'll think of your clickity clacking on the wood floor over and over and over and.....  You'll be missed.

George

I was sitting here looking at photos of George and thought I would share his story with you.  Many of these photos are a bit fuzzy as I took them with my phone, but they tell the story nicely.

I went away on vacation last April and when I returned, my beautiful orange boy had what appeared to be some cuts over his eye.

I took him to the vet when they started to get worse, and it was assumed he had been in a fight with one of the other fuzzies in the house.  It was a little strange since they all get along so well.  He received his rabies vaccine and some antibiotics for the multiple "cuts".  He soon worsened, quite quickly, and after  undergoing biopsies of some of the areas, I was informed he had a Cryptococcus neoformins infection.  He was started on an anti-fungal and I did a lot of research on this subject.  Crypto is found in soil contaminated with bird droppings, and can be found on vegetables.  Humans and animals with normal immune systems are exposed to it but do not suffer any health effects from it.  It poses a serious problem for those with weakened immune systems such as humans with AIDS or cats who are FIV positive.  George had tested negative for FIV when I adopted him, and his re-test at the time of the diagnosis was also negative.  All the fuzzies are indoor cats and none of the others appeared to be infected. I was feeling positive as the research I found stated that the anti-fungal drugs can be quite effective, although it requires long-term (6-12 months) treatment.  It did state that once the fungus invades the brain, the prognosis was poor and blindness was common.

George was on itraconazole for about a month and progressively declined.  He took to hiding under the couch and I eventually had to place a litter box and his food and water bowls behind the couch for him.  I was devastated watching him become more and more sick and seeing his body taken over by the horrible looking sores.  I continued to research different anti-fungals and worked with my vet through this process.  I read that fluconazole was another option and was the only one to cross the blood-brain barrier.  George was switched to fluconazole and around that time a feeding tube was inserted as he had stopped eating.  The sores from the fungal infection were now in his mouth making it very difficult for him to eat.

You're thinking now exactly what I was thinking then.  How can I put him through this and when is enough enough?  I struggled with that question, agonized over it, made the decision to let him go many times and sobbed on numerous occasions.  George was only a year old.  The anti-fungals take a long time to have an effect.  There was a chance George could pull through this and have a long, happy life.  Fortunately, the fluconazole started to kick in, showed at least a small improvement, enough for me to give him more time to fight through this.  Around the same time I saw a vet specializing in dermatology at a specialty animal hospital.  He insisted I switch George back to the itraconazole as there was a lot more experience with that drug and supposedly less side effects.  My vet and I were not fans of this idea but I was willing to follow the advice of the specialist who had seen a number of these cases.  Bad move.  George declined to the point where it appeared he was days from death.  On July 4th I held him in my arms and sobbed uncontrollably.  I was sad to be losing him.  I was sad that he was going through so much and still just a baby.  I was upset I couldn't make him better.  I made the decision to switch him back to the fluconazole.  I figured I had nothing to lose and I was going to give him one last shot.  George started to improve.  It was ever so slightly at first.  He came out from under the couch.  He tried to eat more by mouth.  These were little signs that gave me hope.  My vet had him for a few days to give him regular tube feedings and she became inspired by the small improvements.  She felt he was young and had a chance if the drug was able to fight off the fungus.

George started to come back to life. I celebrated the little things that were actually huge things for him.  I celebrated when he began to enjoy eating treats again.  I celebrated him coming off the feeding tube.  I had a vet tech come over to give him lunch Monday-Friday for a number of weeks so we could help him gain weight and get his strength back.  His food was mixed with water and he was fed by mouth through a large syringe.  I celebrated the first time he was able to use the litter box again after not having enough energy to get out of bed for so long.  I celebrated when he was able to groom himself after months of not doing so. I celebrated when he spoke his first word, after not making a sound for FIVE MONTHS.  By the way, it happened on my Birthday.  I came downstairs to feed the clan breakfast and George stood near the kitchen and yowled.  He yowled and yowled and it was so loud you wouldn't believe it but I loved it.  I love every noise he now makes .

On the advice of my vet I took George to see an eye specialist.  We had been so focused on keeping him alive that we suddenly found ourselves realizing George was going to live, and the effects of the Crypto infection needed to be fully understood.  Unfortunately I found out that George had lost vision in both eyes as the retinas had detached.  Systemic steroids could be used, but the likelihood that his vision loss could be reversed was low, and the steroids could cause a flare up of the fungal infection.  It was definitely a blow for me and for George.  I was feeling so good about his improvements and this made me sad that he would be blind for life.  I had a moment when I wondered if I had tried too hard to save him, but the vets both said that animals adapt very well and as he was an indoor cat he could still lead a happy life.

A major celebration came when George got onto the couch by himself.  No cat wants to live down on the floor and for George to take his spot up on the back of the couch was a huge accomplishment!  He practiced getting off the couch by himself over and over until he perfected it.  He wasn't going to let blindness keep him from his perch on the couch. I never tire of watching George get up and down from the couch and wondered if he would ever take his place on the bed again as he loved to spend afternoons resting on the down pillow and watching the sun shine in through the glass door. My vet told me that he would eventually return to the normal boy he was over time. Meanwhile I continued to take him to the eye specialist and on his most recent visit, the doctor confirmed that George can see light and shadows so he is not in complete darkness.  He was surprised to add that George shows signs of having some level of vision in one eye!!  It certainly is not fine vision but any little bit helps.

And to top it all off, last week George sauntered into the bedroom, sniffed the side of the bed, and pulled himself up onto it! It was amazing to watch him.  He sat up against the down pillow and spent a number of hours on the bed.  I was so happy when he had no issue getting off the bed by himself and he acted like it was no big deal.  Since then he spends his time on the couch, the bed, and now on the dining chair as well.  I am amazed by this cat every day. He turned 2 last September and is the most pampered pet you can imagine.  George is still on the fluconazole and I can feel some lumps in his belly.  All external sores are now gone and he looks like a normal cat without a care in the world as evidenced in the photo below that I took this past weekend.

George sees light and has resumed his favorite pastime of staring out the sliding door during the afternoons. Along the way we also realized he is probably deaf or very hard of hearing.  He may eventually have some hearing restored as the Cyroptococcus is cleared completely from his body.  If not, he is still a very happy cat.  We know to approach him slowly as he can't hear us coming.  I let him sniff my hand before I start to pet him.  Often he licks our hands and I believe that is his way of saying thank you as he never did this before the illness. George went through hell and if he had been an older cat, I would have let him go.  I hung in there due to his young age and knowing that anti-fungals often work, although knowing it can take a long period of time.  George has many many years ahead of him.  He is a miracle given how sick he was and for him to recover that tiny bit of vision is also a miracle.  He is a special boy and I will cherish my time with him each and every day.  When I'm having a lousy day, feeling overwhelmed, feeling down, I sit next to George and think about what he overcame.  I smile when he loudly purrs while I pet him and I melt when he licks my hand.  If George can overcome what he did and get himself back up on that bed, I can get through whatever my problems are!  If you're ever in need of inspiration, stop by and meet George.

Exercise?

Some of you may not have caught on that I've been writing about anything else than exercise, even writing about the sound of the dogs overgrown nails on the wood floor. Ok, I did wake up the other day with an overwhelming desire to exercise. I'm no idiot and took advantage of that fleeting moment. In my hotel room in NJ I did some ab work then jumped up and down like a fool to do a little cardio. That's been the extent of my exercise in the last few days. I'm back from my weekend away from reality. I'm back to the grind and now the old lady is at home so my routine is a lot more busy. I throw food at the animals in the morning, throw food at the old lady, make sure she checks her blood sugar, make sure she has her ice coffee with half and half and a titch of sweetener. I leave a note for the agency person to tell them what she can have for lunch and whether she's in a foul mood or not. Then I sit at work wondering if the old lady is ok and whether she has fallen down and not pressed the "I've fallen and I can't get up" button. I think about the paperwork I still need to submit for the old man's Medicaid application and I hope each day that the home doesn't call to tell me he's sitting out on a street corner because I haven't submitted the paper work yet. Then I come home to throw food at the animals, throw food at the old lady, make sure she gets her pills and takes her insulin and that the night lights are on and that the dog has been let out and in no less than 8 times. Then I can go to bed. Ok, I know I'm whining. I still need to find some time for exercise. I also need to find time for photography. I'm taking a sports photography course on line (thanks betterphoto.com) and of course I am doing it in January when there are little sports games going on for me to photograph. I ran outside to the rink by my work building today, as I have an assignment that was due tonight, and found a fool skating in 17 degree weather. I practiced with fast and slow shutter speeds, concentrating on his feet as the rest of him was not at all interesting. I know I should have stopped him and asked if I could take his picture but I was so cold that I just started snapping and ran back inside. Project done. Now I'm sitting at my computer and it is almost midnight. My alarm will go off at 5:30 and I will fight with myself to get out of bed to hit the treadmill. Some days I just don't feel like it. Some days I feel I'm mistakenly living someone else's life as this certainly isn't the life I was meant to live. Who has my life? Who has the life I was meant to live? The life that is organized. The life without procrastination. The life where all my framed photos are up on walls instead of stacked in closets. The life where I socialize with friends and drink wine and laugh and don't worry about all that I have to do the next day. Someone else has that and I have theirs! I don't know when the mistake was made but I'm going to think on that tomorrow and when I figure out who I switched lives with, I'm going to hunt them down and take mine back!!

New Jersey State of Mind

The old lady and I were to drive to Hoboken today. Niece #1 bought her tickets to Phantom of the Opera on Broadway. As niece #1 lives in Hoboken I made a reservation at the W hotel. So first thing this morning I checked on the old lady and found she had a wound on her ankle. These are occurring more frequently and often turn into a nasty infection. Strike 1.

The old lady then spent a great deal of time in the bathroom suffering from a severe GI issue. Strike 2. She emerged from the bathroom in tears over her situation and wishing someone would shoot her. Strike 3.

I thought of cancelling but didn't want to let my niece down. The thought of some alone time at the W was quite appealing, but the 4 hour drive to NJ was not. Unlike in my younger days, a road trip was not, especially by myself. Why? Silly fear. I had a fear of getting lost even though I have 2 cell phones and a car navigation system.

I decided I would drive through my fear but I needed to make sure the old lady would be in good hands. Fortunately a friend who adores the old lady and the cats would make this trip possible. I ran around getting the old lady's meds in order, packing, arranging for agency help to start up next week, and freshening up the litter boxes. I jumped in my car and hit the road. With less than 1/4 tank of gas. And due for an oil change. I took care of the gas issue but the oil change would have to wait. I got on the Mass Pike before the Friday afternoon traffic had started. I was relieved to see my car's intended route matched my niece's directions. I always feel better with a second opinion. I sang along to the radio, enjoyed strawberry Greek yogurt I grabbed on my way out the door, and patted myself on the back for not letting the long drive keep me home.

I made it to the hotel in 1 piece and had a nice dinner with niece #1 and her man. Now I'm lying in bed desperate for some sleep. Oh, did I mention I was awake at 3am today? This madness has to stop.

Exercise? No, I haven't forgotten about that. I plan to do a lot of walking tomorrow. I'll also consider some situps in the morning. Right now I want to savor my night without responsibilities. But I'm still anxious about the old lady. I'll try to let that go and get in a full sleep. Tomorrow I'll move.

Two Days in a Row

I was more prepared this morning for my date with the treadmill. My sneakers were by the bed, my full water bottle was on the nightstand, and my iPhone was charged. I had not slept well and was awake at 4am, but couldn't pull myself out of bed until after 5. I did a short warm up pace and then increased the speed and incline. It felt good to be doing something after doing nothing for so long. I did my best to keep my mind occupied and not focus on the time. I noticed that when I sang along to the music with the earpieces in, my voice was a thing of beauty. I spent some time admiring myself, ignoring the fact that in reality I was off-key and probably waking up the feral cats in the neighborhood. Just as I was starting to become a little bored, Eminem's Lose Yourself kicked in and I took off with visions of Rocky running up those steps. I pumped my fist in the air to the beat and even picked up the pace enough to jog for about 20 seconds. Let's face it, I haven't ran since being chased by a killer in a dream about 4 years ago. My cooldown was accompanied by Karen Carpenter with her soothing voice and when it was over, I had lasted 30 minutes and felt great.

So, I have some thoughts on goals. I would love to look in the mirror and not see two separate stomachs. I don't know when this happened but I now have a separate upper stomach, a curve inward, then a lower stomach. I find this to be repulsive. One stomach is enough and I prefer that it not stick out so far.

There are some days when it seems my butt enters a room about 2 minutes after my stomach does. I would like to decrease that span of time by reducing the size of my butt, resulting in more efficient room entering and exiting.

I have some other goals related to increased energy level, lower blood pressure, and day to day enjoyment of life. But that's for another day. Today I moved and that's another win.

Day 1 of Attempting Change

I went to bed last night with great plans for getting up early and hitting my treadmill. I would wear my comfortable new sneakers, have a full bottle of water ready and listen to my workout music on my iPhone. The alarm went off at 5am and I realized I had assumed my other personality, the person I wanted to be, would have prepared all the essentials. I had no idea where my comfortable new sneakers were. My water bottle was 3/4 emply and I wasn't about to travel all the way downstairs to fill it. My iPhone was almost out of juice. I quickly caught on to the fact that I was sabotaging my workout. I thought about this for 35 minutes and finally got out of bed, mainly because I had a full bladder. Given that I was up, I decided to stick to my plan and get on the treadmill. I told myself any duration on it was useful and I wasn't going to force myself to a time. Not the first day. Not the first week. I took my 1/4 full water bottle, opened iTunes on my computer, donned my slippers, and stepped onto the treadmill. I told myself that even 10-15 minutes would be a step in the right direction! After only a few minutes, I felt that familiar calmness that comes when I put aside my anxieties and focus on my stride. I enjoy it. I like the feeling of being on the treadmill and getting into a rhythm. Why then do I struggle with making the time, making the effort? I did a whopping 17.5 minutes. That included warm up and cool down. But I did it. I wasn't worn out after 17.5 minutes, I just had to get on with the rest of my day. I congratulated myself for the 17.5 minutes I did today as it was 17.5 more minutes than I did yesterday, or the day before, and many days before that. It was a start. I didn't begin this to kick off the new year. I found myself in a rut that was getting deeper and deeper. I found myself spending too much time thinking about the person I wanted to be, the person I thought I would be, and not being much of a fan of the person I am. As I walked at a medium pace on that treadmill, I thought about how tired I was of not living up to my own expectations. I decided that the best way to stop harrassing myself in my own mind was to put it out there for anyone to see, to have fun with it. So here I am, day 1 of making small changes in my life and letting everyone know it. Maybe tomorrow I'll have my sneakers by the treadmill so I don't have to wear my slippers. Maybe tomorrow I'll have a full bottle of water and will try a steep incline and sweat away my thoughts. Maybe tomorrow I'll get out of bed for a second day in a row and just get on that treadmill.