Friday, January 14, 2005

The Cost of Constipation

The past few days have been very difficult for me. You see, my oldest cat who I've had exactly half of my life this year hasn't been feeling well. And when an older cat doesn't feel good and you've had to make the difficult decision to euthanize two pets before, all you can think of is "please don't make me go through this again."

Me being the positive thinker that I am though, I have to say that I was expecting the worse. The cat had been throwing up for a couple of days, and the night before I took her to the vet, she was puking pure water, no traces of food or anything. But worse, the water was a pinkish tinge by the end of the night, which I took to be blood.

So the next day, off to the vet I went, in tears, with my wailing cat. The vet checked her out and said that she'd lost a lot of weight, 15 percent of her body weight, and recommended we run blood work. I took the cat home and Sweetie Pie and I woke up almost on the hour as the cat laid next to our bed throwing up regularly. Most people would be horrified by this and would have suggested the cat be locked in the laundry room, but considering it was just water being thrown up and the cat was refusing food anyway and the carpet needs to be replaced before the baby arrives, it just didn't matter to us.

I know, that makes us one of those weirdo pet people. But whatever.

And the lab results came back yesterday and showed absolutely nothing. So my vet asked that I bring the cat back and suggested we try X-rays. Well, I hate to get graphic on this blog, but what he found made me feel like the worst person in the world. Ends up my poor sweet cat is constipated. Not just constipated, but she has a poop blockage that goes all the way back to her small intestines. How horrible is that? (Even worse, how horrible is it for you that I'm blogging about my cat's pooping problems? But think about this, my poor cat will forever be known on the Web as the blocked large intestine gal.)

Four enemas later, my cat's pile of poop still wouldn't budge. When the vet told me this, all I could think of was my poor cat, who's led a blissful great life until then sitting in a cage as somebody's squirting water up her butt and she must have been thinking "what the f**k did I ever do to deserve this????"

Here's the worst part. My vet called me this morning and told me he was able to sedate the cat and manually remove the crap from the cat.

MANUALLY people.

Now here's something you might not know about me. I dreamed of being a vet my whole life. It was in my essence, my soul, every membrane in my body that my love for animals translated into me becoming a vet. But unfortunately, a sub-par understanding of complex algebra, trigonometry and a supposed talent for writing meant that I had to give up my dreams of vet-hood. Which devastated me.

But as I sat in my pajamas in front of "A Baby Story" as my very educated vet told me about successfully removing crap from my cat, all of a sudden I thanked God I ended up in PR.

So at this point, I've already spent $130 on my cat as of Wednesday on labwork and the exam. The mental tally in my head isn't sure of what all of the enemas, the X-rays and the manual poop removing will cost, but I'm thinking that the money that was going to go towards a new laptop for me is now going to go into paying for my cat's butt hole.

So next time my computer crashes, I think I'll expect my cat to crap me a press release. Because at the price of her butthole, I should get something better out of it than little turds.

Love,

Catwoman.

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