Yvette's Inner Geek Blog

In high school, my best friend gave me chapstick-on-a-chain for Christmas. Actually, it was luxurious (for a 14-year-old in a rural town) vanilla-flavored Softlips brand lip balm. Emily’s custom design involved a drop of hot glue to hold the chain to the cap and it had a small loss-prevention safety pin at the end so that I could pin the tiny tube to my clothes. She made it specially for me because I was always losing my chapstick*.

It was probably the most practical gift I’ve ever received.

Of course, I did eventually lose it.

There are days when I know the location of about six different tubes of chapstick around my house, car, and coat pockets. I shake my head and say “Self, we really need to examine your tendency to hoard chapstick.” Then I remind myself, “Self, there are times when you can’t even find one stupid chapstick. Enjoy the bounty, but don’t forget the lean times.”

Well, Self, you definitely have a handle on reality. I haven’t been able to find a damn tube of chapstick anywhere for about three weeks. It drive-a me ca-RAZY! It’s winter, and I’m not going to be at all dramatic here: my lips are devastatingly chapped. The little trick of eating something greasy to help ease the lip pain stopped working after the first week and, with no current plans to liposuc and repurpose the extra body fat from that experiment, I need a solution.

Even though I know that I’ll come across my lost tubes sometime in the near future, I finally bought a new one while at Walmart two nights ago. Standing there in the aisle, holding my preferred type (ChapStick Moisturizer, SPF 15, in the blue tube), I debated buying a second one. Even though they were only 97¢ each, and I know that I’ll eventually use up the first one, it unleashed an internal philosophical debate about whether my insatiable craving for this product, and acceptance of its inevitable loss, was actually the cause and not the solution to my suffering. After a couple minutes, I committed myself to pursue a greater understanding of the meaning of the question itself before coming to any conclusions, acknowledging that the conclusion may be that there is no conclusion. Then a lady in sweatpants accidentally bumped me with her cart and I grabbed a second chapstick package with the more fatalistic thought that yes, I will probably lose the first tube before I even open it.

Well, sort-of good news there. I held onto that first precious chapstick for almost 48 hours before it disappeared! It was sitting on my desk, I swear (or did I maybe put it in my jeans pocket, or my purse?) and then it was not. I looked, believe me. Then, shortly before starting this post, with an audible Hggrhm, I pulled the back-up chapstick from my desk drawer and ripped it open. Then I tossed the small blister package into the recycling bin, right on top of the first one. Sigh.

My dangerously chapped lips are now awash in the smooth luxury of White Petrolatum 40.7%, though I still harbor a knot of anxiety about losing this, my only tube of chapstick. But I know it’s safe. I just touched it to make sure. The question is: will I know where it is tomorrow?

*I am using the trademarked name ChapStick as a generic term because if it isn’t already there (like kleenex), it should be.

This semester, along with everything else I have going on simultaneously, has not yet beaten me. There was a kid at my university who, on Tuesday, nearly jumped off the ledge of the building where I have most of my classes. I don’t know who it was, or what his overall situation was, but I’m glad he was talked down. I feel that my advanced (for college) age has provided me with a greater perspective on managing college stress… There, but for the grace of coffee, go I.

The most exciting thing I’ve done in the last couple months ended up looking like this:

Purple hair with bright blue streaks on top! Plus a layer of dark violet underneath.

Much more my style than the haircut I suffered in February. I took my aunt’s advice and brought photos (from haircrazy.info) of what I wanted to my new hairdresser. I met Erika while volunteering at Sundance Film Festival last year and decided from her hair and her personality that I’d give her a shot. She’s currently attending a schmancy hair/cosmetology/things-I-don’t-get school across the street from UVU, so it was convenient and far less expensive than it could have been. It took longer, but the end result was soooo worth it.

Because I did it mid-October, people assumed that I dyed it for Halloween. Total coincidence! I’ve been wanting to dye my hair blue or purple since my late teens, but there was always a reason not too: jobs, fear of my hair falling out from over-bleaching, and just being a plain old chicken. I’ve had purple streaks recently, but they weren’t as bold and only lasted a few days. Technically, having purple hair right now may affect my professional image, especially here in conservative Utah. Know what, though? Fuck it. I love my purple hair.

I’d have a pretty little nose stud, too, if I didn’t have legitimate concern about the teensy injury developing into a keloid scar.

While sitting in my living room with my laptop and coffee this morning, I heard a bird squawk in the vicinity of my chimney. OH NO, I thought. Not again.

It’s been raining, just like it was two years ago when a bird fell into our chimney pipe.

I walked closer to the chimney pipe, but the bird’s steady squawks lasted less than a minute and there was no horrific, frantic scritching sound to indicate that it had fallen down the pipe. I stood there for a minute, then returned to my laptop.

Dear Google,

northern flicker call

The top two sites were the ones I expected to see: whatbird.com (makers of the bitchin’ app that is the main reason I want an iPhone) and the All About Birds, the most totally awesome online bird guide from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology that I’ve used quite a bit. It only took one sound bite to confirm that the visiting bird was indeed another Northen Flicker. Or maybe the same one, just dropping by to say hello? It was using the “kyeer” call that sounds really creepy when emanating unexpectedly from the chimney of my old, never used wood-burning (or is is coal-burning?) stove fireplace.

In any case, it’s been an hour and there have not been any other sounds. So the bird was probably just sitting at the top of the pipe, hopefully not using it as a port-o-potty or anything, before it flew off.

We should really get a cap on the top of that chimney…

*I should note that just about every time I’ve attempted to type “Flicker,” I initially spelled it “Flickr” like the photo-sharing site. Stupid companies being cool and jacking up my typing integrity.

I know it looked like I abandoned my blog. I guess I did. But why?

Drafts of posts have been started. Photos collected in a folder labeled “Isis” on my desktop. It’s been four months now, and I’m finally coming back and pulling the halted sentences together into a post that I will publish.

After two months, it wasn’t as hard to write about Isis as it was after two days or even two weeks. Time has passed and allowed me distance from The Event. But it’s been weird and awkward to type out the words. Maybe I’ve been postponing it because of the finality of it all.

Isis, our sweet cat of ten years, passed away in our arms on May 8 under the grim lights of a veterinarian’s exam room. Her labored breathing ceased; she was there but no longer there; her long, baffling illness behind her in a peaceful moment that came too soon.

But her eyes did not close.

I’m reliving the moment to write about it, and it brings me great pain. I’d never before been with a person or animal at the moment of death.

We fought her decline for so long, and so acutely in the month before her death, that it seemed as though things had always been that way. We spent the last couple weeks hovering around her, clinging to every moment she showed a sign of potential recovery‚ however temporary it might be. We had fluid drained from her body cavity twice while trying to figure out an actual diagnosis from the conflicting test results. Antibiotics seemed to help, but then she caught a cold of some sort. I found myself at the drugstore on a Sunday morning purchasing a baby nasal bulb respirator and saline drops to help clear her sinuses so that she could get oxygen into whatever lung space was available.

Still floundering for a diagnosis—was it in fact a bacterial infection, or FIP, or was there a foreign object in her lungs?—I took her for a third opinion from another vet, this time a friend’s cousin. Isis was breathing a little better after the fluid drain, but was still lethargic. She showed no anxiety and didn’t flinch when she was given a shot of prednasone to help her breathing. The next day, another round of lab results came back. Advanced FIP positive and, to our horrified surprise, FIV positive as well.

Say your goodbyes and bring her in in the next day or two, he said to me gently over the phone.

The really hard thing was that the prednasone shot improved her breathing and her appetite. So over the next couple days as we coped with the impending loss and timing The Inevitable.

The thing is, even though we dreaded it and knew to logically expect that she was dying, we weren’t prepared. I know. She’s just a cat. Except that she wasn’t. She was part of our family for ten years. It was really hard to say goodbye.

Well, I’d say at this point I’ve shot my 2010 365-day blogging challenge all to hell. Bugger.

Moving on.

Isis is still kickin’ it, as opposed to having kicked the bucket, as of right now. Her abdomen appears to be swelling, but it’s not in her chest like last time so I’m not sure if maybe that’s from getting fat on all the delicious food she’s been prissily scarfing 10 times a day. And a few hours ago I caught her licking the top of the litter in her litter box. Yeah. Licking. G.R.O.S.S. Also, why the fuck is she tonguing her litter box like it’s a salt lick? It’s about time to check in with the vet.

Sorry for leaving some you hanging in regards to Isis. I received a couple hesitant emails from friends not sure if I stopped blogging because of mourning the loss of my dear (litter-licking) kitty. That is not the case.

I have been spending my time in the trenches of college finals and/or epically procrastinating for said finals despite a heavyweight guilt pressing menacingly on my shoulders and general brain area. This is my fourth semester in a row of college 2.0, and oh yeah! I remember now why I was so ready to be done with college the first time around.

But it’s going well. In a couple of weeks, if I pass my damn 3D modeling and animation class, I’ll have a shiny associate’s degree in “Digital Communication Technology” (aka Teh Internet) . My current plan is to stick around for the remaining 6 classes it will take to earn a second bachelor’s degree, this time in “Digital Media — Internet Technologies” (aka Teh Internet, with Moar Fancy!).

Then I will be able to append “B.A., A.S., B.S.” to my name. That’s WAY more letters than my less educated immediate family members have! Too bad for them they can only put three letters (Ph.D. or D.D.S.) after their names. Okay, maybe five if you include the B.S. they each have. That’s the only concession I’m giving. Right now I feel like I need to win at something.

The lab results finally came back this morning for Isis. It looks like she does not have FIP and does/did have a raging infection that either caused or was caused by the fluid build-up. So thank bejeezus she got a shot of long-lasting antibiotics Thursday night and we’ve been giving her amoxicillin since Saturday. She has a follow-up appointment Tuesday afternoon so we can talk over the results with the vet we trust—not the one who didn’t offer to help her breathe on Friday.

So this is good. There are still unknowns, but bacteria can at least be smacked into submission for the short term. I really liked what my friend Amber said:

I know what it’s like to hope for one bad instead of another. “He could have been poisoned, which, in theory, might improve, or have chronic kidney disease…which will just keep getting worse.”

“Um….let’s hear it for the poison!?!”

Isis has been eating more and gaining her strength back. She also starts purring practically every time we look at her, which is not typical behavior for her, but will make the pending credit card statement a little easier to bear. She’s actually on my lap right now, awake but relaxed, with her head resting on my forearm and making typing an awkward task for me.

These are some photos from February 2009 since I’m really behind in uploading photos. I look forward to taking more of her in a happy and honor-my-every-whim mood after she regains her health yet again. I’m just a helpless puddle of amateur photographer when she starts posing like this in the sunlight.

It’s hard to believe that this whole Isis health crisis has only been going on for three days. It feels like much longer.

The vet said to make sure she’s eating a very high protein diet, which given her history of digestive issues means that we’ve been giving her pure meat baby food out of a jar. And to improve her hydration, we’re forcing a spring water and Pedialyte solution down her throat a few times a day. I’m just hoping that the next step in her transformation to human infant will not require diapers.

Today has been a good recovery day for Isis. She ate only about a half ounce of baby food last night and refused any of her regular food. She still wasn’t really interested in food this morning, but by this afternoon she was meowing by the fridge and showing interest in her regular food after she finished off the jar of baby food. She’s been walking around more and using the extra litter box we begrudgingly put in the hall bathroom for her since she’s still not in stair-taking condition to use the one in the basement.

(I caught Phoebe peeing in the upstairs litter box and was all, THAT’S NOT YER TOILET, which caused a slapstick scene of her kicking litter everywhere as she lunged out of the box and skidded into a wall before racing off.)

The first lab results should come back from our regular vet tomorrow morning to hopefully give us more insight as to what caused all the fluid build-up. We will not be returning to that vet for follow-up treatment—especially after having a decent night’s sleep and analyzing the course of events in Isis’ recent illness.

She was boarded at the vet while we were out of town because she needs to be fed her special homemade food twice a day, and it’s just easier that way. It’s the third time she’s boarded there while the other two cats stay home with their automatic feeder and a friend checking in on them. When Ben picked her up on Tuesday, he noticed that she was breathing heavily. We honestly didn’t worry too much until Thursday, probably because it was getting worse. That night we took her to Pet Urgent Care where they took X-rays, gave her shots of cortisone and antibiotics, drew a sample of the massive fluid build-up in her chest cavity and recommended that we visit our regular vet first thing in the morning. The regular vet looked at the X-rays, said her liver was enlarged and possibly her heart, and sent the sample from Pet Urgent Care out to the lab. He waived the exam fee since we’d just been to urgent care and sent us home.

But that’s it. How could he look at my cat struggling to breathe because of the pressure around her lungs and just send me home with her until the lab results came back—which he knew would likely not be for three days? Why didn’t he even mention draining the fluid as an option? I’d only had a couple hours’ sleep, otherwise I would have asked. Instead, I sleepily trusted that he knew what was best for my cat. Why wouldn’t I?

Add to that the fact that Isis was exhibiting abnormal breathing when she was picked up from her boarding stay at the vet—where I’d had to sign a form allowing them to treat Isis should she need care during her stay. For how long did her breathing issues go unnoticed? Even giving them the benefit of the doubt and assuming it didn’t start until just before Ben picked her up, shouldn’t the tech have noticed when she put her in the carrier?

It’s frustrating to think about. Isis would likely have already died of oxygen deprivation if we had just followed the first vet’s instructions and waited for the lab results before proceeding.

But. I am very glad to have this veterinary care frustration at a time when I am not also grieving the loss of my pet. Even if the final prognosis is Not Good, I did not have to watch my longtime feline companion suffer for several days before dying from a curable (at least temporarily) condition. This way, if we know what’s coming—short term or long term—we can better prepare ourselves and not just stand by as helpless victims of the unknown.

Thank you to all of my friends and family who have extended their love and support the last couple days. In some ways it seems trivial to have such serious emotions for a pet. I’m not one to say that my cats are my children because they’re not—they’re my pets. But goddammit if I don’t love them with all my heart.

SPOILER: Isis is still alive!

I was up late again last night watching Isis, anxious and angry because I couldn’t do anything to relieve her labored breathing. My tiny kitty had lost interest in food and was increasingly lethargic.

I again called the county’s pet urgent care (which I’m thankful for—they’re open all evenings, weekends, and holidays) and spoke to the same assistant who had been there 24 hours earlier when I took Isis in. She said a different doctor was there that night, so I’d have to pay the full exam fee again just to bring her in. Which is double the cost of an exam fee at a regular vet, of course. And to drain the fluid in her lungs? Starting around $500-$1000 due to costs for oxygen, tube set-up, hospitalization, etc.

You’ve GOT to be kidding me, I said. Can’t you just stick a needle in and pull out a little but so she doesn’t suffocate before we can get her to the regular vet in the morning?!?

Ben and I had a rough and emotional discussion about what we should do. Of course we want her to live, but we still didn’t know what was wrong with her or even if draining the fluid would really help. We’d already dropped a few hundred bucks on the two vet visits for X-rays, lab tests, and medicine, but she’s going on 11 years old and what if it’s just her time? At what point do we draw the line when it comes to finances? It’s a really ugly question. How much are we willing to spend to save her?

Meanwhile, Isis shifted uncomfortably, her nostrils flaring as she failed to take in as much oxygen as she needed. I pictured the X-ray of her lungs compressed by fluid in her chest cavity.

Less than seven hours until the regular vet opened. We knew our vet had gone out of town Friday afternoon, but he would leave someone on call.

We decided to make her as comfortable as possible—on her blanket with water just a step away—and hope that she would hang on until morning. We prepared ourselves for the possibility that she would not make it and finally went to bed. Read more…

I have lots of photos and notes to share from WonderCon, but it’s going to have to wait another day or two.

One of my cats, Isis, has been breathing somewhat heavily since we picked her up from the vet where she was being boarded while we were out of town. No other symptoms, but it got increasingly worrisome. I decided to google it, which of course you should never do because you will always fear the worst, and sure enough, that’s what I found. I took her to pet urgent care after midnight last night, fearing the worst but hoping that I would just pay the exam fee and come home with some ridicule for being a worrywart. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

She has fluid in her pleural space, which is more or less the cavity between her organs and her skin. (I was a biology major once, but have since filled that useful knowledge with less useful information.) The fluid is compressing her lungs so that they will not fully inflate, causing her to breathe more rapidly to get the oxygen she needs. The vet gave her a cortisone shot and a shot of anitbiotics, just in case they would help, but also took a fluid sample to send off to a pathologist.

The prognosis is not good. There’s no fluid in her lungs, so it’s not a simple respiratory infection. She’s been up to date on her vaccinations and is an indoor cat, so I doubt it’s feline leukemia. It might be FIP, cancer, or a heart problem. None of which mean she has a lot of time left.

I got home after 3am and took her to the regular vet as instructed at 9am. They sent the fluid sample off to the lab and we should have results Monday or possibly tomorrow morning. After all the digestive issues she’s suffered over the last couple of years (which may or may not have anything to do with what’s causing the fluid build-up now), it’s horrible to see her suffering more. Well, “suffering” is subjective. She’s taking shallow, rapid breaths and still eating some. I don’t know if she’s in pain. I don’t know how much longer she has. I don’t know. It’s been a long day. I’m probably going back to the vet tomorrow morning if there’s still no change to talk about options for relieving the pressure from the fluid.

Hello, my name is Yvette. It’s been 7 days since my last blog post.

If you see someone drowning, lol