Yvette's Inner Geek Blog

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…