Slumped…

Remember that back condition thing that I casually mention or rant about from time-to-time? Yeah, it’s rearing it’s ugly head and screaming, “Fuck you! I’ll do whatever the hell I want to your back, you’re my bitch.”

It started innocently enough yesterday. There was a small job fair (waste of time) and since it was being co-sponsored by the unemployment peeps of Texas, I went. I got all gussied up in my suit, looking hot and feeling hotter since it was a cool 98 degrees out. And, I only own black suits. I brought out the sexy killer heels because I feel a lot more confident when I wear them. That was such a bad move on my part. The three major blisters on my feet can speak to that but that’s not the point of the post. Killer heels can also mean killer twisted ankle and killer back pull.

The parking lot ($8 to park – that’s a whole hours worth of pay to some peeps!) was pretty full so I had to park in the lower forty, walking on asphalt to the door in my lovely heels. By the time I got to the entrance, one blister on the bottom of my foot took up residence and I had to hobble in front of potential (NOT!) employers. I could only handle the career fair for an hour, after I completed a full circuit and found it lacking. And, more blisters had been created on my feet. It took me 10 minutes to walk to my car, something that would usually take me two. I was tempted to flirt with the grounds crew who were driving golf carts to get a ride to my car. I should have because by the time I got to my car, I had twisted my ankle a bit and pulled my back trying to rescue myself before I face planted in front of people in the lot. Me and asphalt didn’t need to become THAT close.

This morning, I woke up stiff. As a board. Bending over, not happening. I get up from this chair and I walk at a 45 degree angle. Also, I’ve had to take four breaks just writing this simple post because sitting, yeah, it hurts. I’m 28 and feel ancient. No me gusta.

Now I know…

How my mom worries about me when I’m out of her grasp. Or when I was a teenager taking risks. And, I only have a cat. How the hell am I going to deal with kids?

I’m watching Sassy like a hawk. Wondering: Is she eating enough? Drinking enough? Peeing enough? Pooping enough? Are her behaviors off? Is that a normal time amount for her to nap? Why isn’t she playing with that toy? Is she lethargic? Does she hate me? Is she going to have be put in kitty therapy because she thinks her mother abandoned her in her time of need?

Yeah, I’m a little too attached to my cat.

She’s home…

Note that they gave her stars on her bandage, because she is one! Also, the pitiful shaved belly, necessary for her ultrasound. She’s home and well. Her hunger strike ended once we put food in front of her. I do have to give her injections every other day for a week but not for her kidneys but for her right paw. It got really swollen due to the pressure cuff to keep the IV in and it caused a bit of a fever. Poor thing. But, she’s home and happy, so that makes us happy.

The saga, with finale…

I know you guys have been on pins and needles wanting to know the story of this week. My goodness, I need a Xanax! Or a Valium. I’m not picky.

Anyway, back to Miss La Rue. I posted about Sunday and the drama that ensued. We left Miss La Rue in the capable hands of the Emergency Vet clinic to run the diagnostics. The vet there was saying congenital kidney failure and was concerned because Sassy hadn’t urinated the entire time she was there, a sign that the kidneys were failing. Also, her renal numbers were literally off the charts. We had to pick her up by 8 am on Monday and then randomly pick a new vet to handle her case. I say randomly because Sassy hadn’t been sick before and it wasn’t time for her vaccinations, so I hadn’t bothered to look for a vet in Houston. I didn’t want to stress her out further with a long car trip and the ER told of us a clinic close by to the apartment.

The new clinic was able to get me a 9 am appointment. When I saw the clinic, it was an older building with a sign stating that the clinic was established in 1960. The vet was as almost as old as my grandmother. The clinic hadn’t been updated since before I was born. I wasn’t trying to think negatively because the doctor’s bedside manner was beautiful. He was really caring and understanding of our plight and wanted to take care of Sassy. He reviewed the records and gave me his outline for treatment (which was in line with the ERs). He personally called me through out the day to give me updates on her progress, unfortunately, they were negative. But, she was running a fever so he gave her antibiotics. At the end of the day her renal numbers were higher than the day before, she hadn’t peed and was starting to throw up, so the diagnosis of kidney failure was given. He said that she wasn’t responding to treatment, so it would be a matter of time before she left us. I was devastated. It was hard for me to drive to the clinic to pick up my baby, for what might be her last night at home. But, he did give me one last ray of hope – he’d refer us to a specialist. I had already decided that I was going to take her for a second opinion, so a specialist was great.

That night B and I mourned the loss of Sassy, who was very much alive and kicking under the chaise in the livingroom. But, we had done internet searches on her diagnosed condition and everything pointed to death. We wanted to prepare ourselves for the worst, just in case the specialist said that we couldn’t do anything. Now, this is where it gets interesting. Sassy wasn’t acting like a sick cat anymore. She was just chilling out, watching her humans fall to pieces.

Tuesday morning, I check her litter box for urine and, boy, did I find pee. I think she was holding it in due to fright or nervousness of being at strange places. Off to the specialist we go. I must say, to be a vet, you have to have a heart of gold. He learned to my concerns, read the files and examined Miss La Rue. (By the way, through the entire ordeal and every vet exam, Sassy was easy going and relaxed. She never hissed, meowed or tried to attack anyone while being manhandled.) He gave me the possible four diagnosis’ and wanted to run more tests. He was the first one to say that it might just be a simple kidney infection. Of course, they wanted to keep her in the vet hospital and get more fluids and antibiotics in her. Later that day, I got the best phone call. Sassy’s renal numbers were dropping like a rock. She was getting better.

Wednesday and Thursday were more of the same, fluids and antibiotics. The numbers kept dropping and Thursday afternoon, she was back in the normal range. I got to visit with her both days for about an hour each, give her some lovin’. I could tell that she was getting back to being her curious self, trying to check out every nook and cranny of the exam room.

Today, we were hoping to bring home our kitty but they wanted to keep her one more day, making sure that she was properly weaned off of the IV. Tomorrow at 11 am, we’ll pick up our girl. I plan on posting pics of her in her shaved belly state – for sympathy of course. I can’t wait to have a furry body curled up on the floor next to me, meowing for a belly rub.

Update on the La Rooh Hoo…

Okay, she is in the hospital again but in better spirits. The doctor was a bit more hopeful since she was able to pee a lot since yesterday. Unfortunately, the possible diagnosis is one of the following:

- Pyelonephitis (kidney infection) – treatable
- Acute renal failure – treatable but may or may not be curable
- Renal lymphoma – fatal but most not likely
- Congenital kidney disease – treatable but not curable

They are going to run various diagnostics and I’ll know more this afternoon. I’m hoping for option one but we’ll see. Her blood work came back so high Sunday and yesterday that they were surprised that she was still alive. But, she’s a trooper! And, this morning, she was acting more like herself – even after being imprisoned in the bathroom all night. I should have her home tomorrow. Having her home last night made life a bit more normal.

The luck’s run out…

I’m going to preface this post with: IT’S NOT A FUCKING HAPPY POST! I’m warning you that you’re about to read a post with cussing, crying and all sorts of emotions running through it.

My last post was about my little huntress, Sassy La Rue. Sassy has been the star of many posts and is the light of my life. When people ask if I’m married or if I have kids, I reply with, “No, but I have a cat and car!” I have only had the pleasure of Miss La Rue’s company for the last two years, becoming her mom when she was only 8 weeks old. And, now, I might lose her.

After the lizard incident, Sassy started vomiting, not eating or drinking and stopped peeing. I bet you figured it out, not good signs. I thought that it might have to do with the lizard being poisonous or some little bones getting trapped in her tummy. This morning we decided that we should take her to emergency vet after she redecorated the bathroom with kitty vomit. I know, lovely picture. I got out her carrier and tried to make her comfortable on the trip over to the place she does not like to go. I kept thinking, “Jen, you’re probably worried over nothing and the vet will laugh at you, sending you and B back home with a hefty fee for the vet visit.”

We got there. We waited. And waited. Finally, Sassy was called back for examination. B and I gave the whole lizard spiel, vomiting stories and the what not. I even brought her records from the old vet. They said she looked pretty healthy but they needed to run tests and take some x-rays. The vet said it would be an hour and told us we could go get lunch since we had been there all morning. We ate quickly and got back, only to be called back to the BACK room. Yeah, you don’t want to go to the BACK room. That’s FUCKING BAD BACK ROOM. That’s where they tell you that your cat is in kidney failure. That’s where they tell you that it can’t be cured. That’s where they tell you that there is treatment but eventually she is going to die prematurely from it.

I know that some people think of animals as animals. People come first. But, this, in all practicality, is my child. And, her mom is out of work and just trying to figure out where she stands in life and this boulder comes rolling over her. Thankfully, ONCE AGAIN, we have B to thank for saving the day. I’m very grateful for him keeping me calm through out this ordeal and helping me stay somewhat sane.

But, holy shit, no more bad news please.

I’m such a playa…

B took me out last night. Yeah, he’s that romantic kind of a guy. We played in a poker tournament.

I’ve played in a many poker tournaments over the years, most nights I’m just making a donation to the pot for some other more skilled player to take home. Last night didn’t feel much different. I’d get my cards, sit back and watch the flop, turn and river come up in the fold’em hand and see that I had squat. Push my chips over to the winner please Mr. Dealer. Oddly enough the fates decided that it was to be my night. Just a bit. They didn’t want to push it and make me the be-all-end-all player but, I’ll take what I can get.

I’d get my cards, play like I was at the World Series of Poker, pushing lots of chips into the pot. Thus, signifying to the table, “LOOOOOOK, I got some pretty good cards.” Then the boys would think, “Oh, it’s Jenifer, we can take her out.” But, not last night. I was a bluffin’. I was a chip bully. I was taking them out left and right. Sometimes two at a time. I even got to decimate B a little bit. Yeah, I laughed manically when that happened. He had already announced to the table that “I wasn’t gettin’ some that night!”, so why not be ruthless?

All-in-all, I came in third after a spanking by one of my nemesis Slik. But, I’m good with that. I took home three figures and had fun. And, I didn’t get any last night but I had some money to keep me warm.

I’m not overly fond of…

Dead lizards. But, it appears that Miss La Rue has found her calling in life.

Since I’ve never allowed her to wander aimlessly around the outdoors, for fear of her getting run over or taken – she is that damn cute – she hasn’t ever really honed her hunting skills. I’ve seen her bat at flies. Run after the occasional creepy crawly that dared to enter my domain. But, a lizard???

Now, I know you’re thinking, “Jen, you live in Texas. There are bound to be lizards.” Oh, I’m not denying that. But, I prefer all my reptile friends to live on the outside of my abode. I reserve the interior for the mammals that are not rodents. I’d even allow a horse indoors. Things with forked tongues or born of eggs, those are animals non gratis. And, I know with the intense heat outside that the lizard community is trying to survive. But, they need to try to survive in the empty apartment next door.

You can only imagine my surprise and B’s dismay when I started shrieking like a banshee and running away from him when he was expecting his good-bye kiss this morning. He couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about until I pointed to the carcass on the ground that I nearly stepped on with my bare feet. I am just grateful that he was home when it was discovered because if I had had to clean up Miss La Rue’s conquest, I would not be eating for a couple of days. This lizards final moments were quite frightful. She still needs to learn the art of a swift kill. (At least I had the right mind not to take pictures!)

Now, as I sit here documenting Sassy’s success as a huntress, I’m hoping she’ll have a repeat performance. Because as I was throwing an item away this fine rainy day (thanks to a tropical storm) one of the lizard’s friends decided to skedaddle across my foot and under my desk. Yes, both feet are squarely in my chair and not touching the ground any where near the bottom of my desk.

Sassy is on guard, waiting to fulfill her duties as Lizard Killing Queen.

What the unemployed do…

I’m a cleaning fiend people. I just can’t stand to be unproductive and let things just pile up, so I’ve been attacking all the clutter that we’ve let pile up with a vengeance. We’re bad about just tossing stuff on the coffee table and then wonder where the table top went. Also, Miss La Rue likes to nap up there and it’s quite inconvenient for her when she must shove stuff to the floor. I adore that quality of hers, hahaha.

The bathroom now sparkles, the bed linen is crisp and clean, the closet is in the process of being organized and I’ve made dinner a lot. Homemade marinara anyone? I’m trying to stay away from baking since we really don’t need it and I’m not in the mood to share the excess. Did you not see my last post about my cake obsession people? I need bake goods AA.

Typically, I’m domestic but more to the wanting to make things pretty, not the cleaner upper part. I shudder at the thought of cleaning and still haven’t brought out the vacuum cleaner because I hate the vibrations that go through my body when I turn that beast on. I think I’ll talk B into that. But, the cleaning has been a good distraction and I don’t tend to think and over analyze. As I write this post, I can tell my brain is about to wander down that path. And, on that note, I have dishes to do.

Weigh in review…

Okay, I’m not going to keep track of the weeks anymore. I figure that it’s going to take quite a few more weeks to get to goal and I don’t want it to get depressing. I’m thinking a blog post on the significance of numbers in our lives might be warranted at some point. Number of pounds. Age. Husbands. Boyfriends. Etc.

Anywho, on to the most important number of this week: ZERO. That’s because I didn’t gain weight. I didn’t lose weight. After my self-imposed emotional anorexia, I went onto binging. Cake and ice cream was the primary staple. I have an icing obsession when I want to over eat and I wasn’t in a saying, “No!” kind of mood. But, I’m glad that I caught myself and didn’t let it do too much damage to the waistline. It was also pointed out to me by B that I might want to consider different ways to be active since I’m not working. Who knew that getting up multiple times to go to the copier, bathroom, breakroom and what not burned a lot of calories?

On the job front there are a lot of resumes of mine floating in cyberspace. I know that a couple of irons are heating up and I should be getting some interviews. I have this information on good authority by people that are looking out for me. I have some really great friends and I’m glad that they read this blog. I love being able to thank them and letting them know how much I appreciate all that they’ve done. Gushing is over now.