Here is Adaggio this morning; save the date: Monday, June 5th, 2017. Safe and sober for five consecutive days, eat by himself, drink by himself, walk straight like a man, and he meows back when I talk to him.
In his heyday, every morning I will find him sitting like a sphinx with arm folded, stoned. I would have to nudge him to see if he is still there. He will “hrrm” me. I would have to nudge him when I tell him I will open his mouth to give him SamE (amino acid) and he will “hrrm” me. I will come back about an hour or two later and nudge him again to tell him there is food. Sometimes, he will sniff and lick when his jaw brushed his small bowl, at other time, he will just “hrrm” me.
Half an hour after eating it will be barbiturates, and he seemed to learn that the word “medicine” is nothing to “hrrm” about.
All of those time, all day and all night, unless I move him, he will stay in that position. Sitting like a sphinx, with arm folded on his chest, eyes closed. Sometimes, nose down. Then I know he’s sleeping.
That darned X ray was the last. After a long sleep from tiny dose of sedation ( I thought he was going to die), Adaggio woke up Friday morning to the right side of the world.
Or maybe his search for the universe of alternative facts is over. Maybe he found out where Darth Vader is.
Maybe Godess Bast just can’t have me meowing at her day and night asking for healing.
He looked like a little lamb from Dr. Pol, trying to stand and walk around, but he said “meow” instead of “baaa” Thank God.
He drink by himself, he eats by himself, he scratched on the folded underpads and I am very, very happy to open him one so he can pee properly instead of peeing in his sleep like he was before.
I went to work but my mind stayed home, trapped between ecstasy and worry.
Both emotions were beaten by the determination to push Adaggio as far as I can to the better spectrum so he can have his troublesome tooth extracted as soon as possible. If one year flies, I only have a week.
Adaggio definitely share my feelings.
The vet and I met on Saturday. I show her pictures, I showed her videos. She is still not convinced that just a growing fang can cause fever, can cause epilepsy, can cause fit. She was sure I was wrong despite the books and footnotes that I showed her. She did not want to believe it because it is not common.
I understand God is testing my anger management to the limit, like he always fond to do.
I have never said it was because of his teeth only, I have always said that it was his particular misfortune. A kitten with unknown life history and parental background, have URI, healed, got it again in less than a week, and then teething, and peculiar teething at that. All of those alone is not life threatening. All of those alone is trivial for any vet, though scary and heartbreaking for pet owners; but her silence and obvious doubt is not helping. Her stalling to consult everywhere (she told me she wanted to go to Bogor first and back again, who knows when, to consult several other veterinarians, meanwhile just keep giving barbiturates or keep Adaggio sleeping) and take forever and ever in the name of comprehensiveness is even worse. I don’t say she should jump into it head first, I only wish she would mind the time as well.
I am glad I did not say whatever I said in that later sentence, but I did let slip that while epilepsy, or fits as I prefer to call it is some sort of a touchy alien, those are my daily bread as a psychologist. With every fit, one part of the brain is broken. With every sedation, other part of the brain will be dull. Know what? damage is permanent, and the best part is, we will never know which part was damaged, and what change(s) it will bring to the sufferer.
“You take barbiturates for granted?”
I ask that question gently, but I can see it in her face that it slapped her.
No seriously, I was ready to go to the other vet if she can’t perform the surgery. I don’t want to make her do it if she don’t want to, but I don’t want to sacrifice Adaggio just because natives of this town are known to go round and round and push the problem they don’t feel like handling to the back for as long as it takes until they don’t have to deal with it anymore.
I know Adaggio is a cat, but if ever someone ask me what would be a problem if a cat had a little brain potholes, because they would live just like that anyway, I’d punch someone on the face.
I am getting personal and I know it. Still one way or another, I will find help for Adaggio.
So today is blood testing. Wednesday is first surgery. Adaggio is still too small and unfit to endure lengthy surgery with potential blood loss, so two fangs at a time.
On that I agree that better late than sorry.