Stoic Kitty

So my cat is sick. This has been one shitty weekend. On Thursday at Max's appointment, the vet had sent us home with one can of special "won't make the cat sick" food to try. Max friggin' loves it, so I went back to get more on Friday. While I was there, I asked "So someone will call me today with the results of Max's bloodwork?" You'd have thought I asked the receptionist to wash my car or something.

She looked bored and said, "Well.....Dr. Somethingoranother drew the blood and he's not in again until (she pauses to look at something)...Monday. So he'll give you a call sometime on Monday." This was not the right thing to say. Not to me, not to anyone really, but definitely not to me.

I am very proud of myself that I didn't reach through the window and throttle her. I didn't even get hostile. I have a sort of history of not reacting well to people like this. I've told myself over the years that that sort of reaction is counterproductive. I try to keep a lid on it and Friday I was successful. I did get very mad, and I think obviously mad. But it was apparently an effective kind of mad since it caused her to scurry about trying to get my cans of cat food, change for my $20 for the cans of cat food, and a pen (that works...heh heh this one is broken oh darn...um...hang on...bang crash boom) to write down my cell phone number all at once and all right NOW while I waited looking like god only knows what outside her window.

As I was leaving the garage on campus about a half hour later, a different doctor called me to give me some not good news. Max's labs came back screwy. She told me Max has an elevated liver enzyme (three times normal, which is pretty elevated I guess). They scheduled an ultrasound of his liver for Monday.

Max is not acting like a terribly sick cat. He's acting like a sort of sick cat. Max is a tough guy, doesn't let on when he's sick. Years ago, when another cat used him as a chew toy and he got an infection the size of a golfball in his face, he purred the entire time my ex (the doctor) examined him. Sick kitties with abscesses don't usually purr when you palpate the area. I blame Max's first year outdoors for this. I think it's a survival thing. So he's pretty lackluster, but still wants food and catnip, and even showed interest in a lovely green ribbon today.

Unfortunately, I am not at all stoic. I am totally devastated when I think of him not being ok. I keep hoping the doctor who called me with his lab results read the wrong chart. I am very attached to my cat. He's been with me through 6 moves and going on three serious relationships now. He outlasted my marriage. I'm pretty sure I have more pictures of him than of anyone else I know.

On top of my shitty weekend waiting on my cat, I found out today that my brother, who got out of the hospital just this past week, has apparently disappeared again.

At least I am no longer menstrual. If I were, I would need a thorazine and possibly some shackles to keep me from harming people like the receptionist. And life is full of people like the receptionist. Stuff like the unconditional love of my kitty keep me happy and relatively sane. Thinking I might not have that in the not distant future makes me not.

Wish us good luck for tomorrow. I want my kitty to be happy and healthy again.