Sunday, September 21, 2008

the old cat trends upward thanks to her talented physician (well ahead of wall street, by the way...)


My veterinarian is a goddess....and I tell her that as often as I can (hopefully I tell her that regularly enough during non-emergencies that she knows I mean this...)

Vets have a tough balancing act: first, they treat the conditions of their patients (some of whom really do bite - literally); then, they have to manage the people attached to their patients. I have to believe that's the tough part.

Our old cat landed at the vet Friday morning after a strange episode. What we've learned is cats don't have strokes...but they have blood pressure spikes...and spikes cause side effects like bleeding and detached retinas. Opal (the patient) hasn't been able to see for years. She has her world blocked out in her head. Path down the stairs to where breakfast is served. Path up the stairs to napping location. Occasional obstacle known as collie. Trek along the couch to food on top of bookshelf (there is food all over for her to get to but that's her place, thank you very much, and just because she's blind doesn't mean you can offer her less than preferred dining space).

We've had regular updates, but this afternoon's was troubling. Blood pressure up. Ocular pressure up. But come see her, said the doctor, and see what you think.

When you're on life nine with two paws on a banana peel, perky is not your usual ilk. There was her ladyship...sitting in her doctor's lap while the doctor tried to type around a cat determined to smooch her chin (try that with your own GP campers and see if it doesn't get you onto CBC's White Coat Black Art in a hurry when they're talking about ethics.)

Ill as she was, Opal was purring and eating and cuddling.
Austin (the clinic lab and social worker) lost an eye to glaucoma was keeping her company.
Except for a grim looking eye (oh man was it sad...), you wouldn't have known Opie had an issue.
Twenty four hours more, we all agreed.

Tonight the numbers are in -- and much improved. If this keeps up, Opal can come home tomorrow.
She and Austin are hanging out for the night. Good company contributes to the recovery process.

So back to the tricky bits of a vet's job...
All those years in school to evacuate impacted anal glands (one of the four places were the use of impacted is grammatically correct)...and remove hair bands and beer caps and cell phones from their patients' gullets. Weekend work very regularly. As many sad endings as happy ones.

It's one thing to be a talented clinician -- but nobody can teach any doctor the most important part -- having a heart and having the courage to listen to it.

Our vet is a wee little slip of a thing. She could fit her whole body into one of my pant legs...probably twice. But she has the heart of a lion and you have to see her wrestle big dogs to see her at her finest.

When she bought a well-established practice from a doctor who was going on to a specialty practice in opthamology, the patients didn't give her grief...but meeting their people undoubtedly had its interesting wrinkles. She had big shoes to fill (in a strictly metaphorical sense...the previous doc who still consults when eyes are in the offing was a delicate creature too) but those shoes fit perfectly.

I've often said to her when my friends were failing, I just don't have the wisdom to do God's job.
None of us does, she reminds me, but God lets you know when it's time. It's really when the animals speak and they always let you know.

With luck, we'll enjoy a little more quiet time with the old dollie yet before she says goodbye.
We'll have to buy her one of those pill organizers...
Hey, do you suppose cats need Metamucil too...ask me in a few days...

Gin

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