Update on the Famous Ezra, part 2
Himself is now Home.
The folk at Alameda East were able to get Ez to eat overnight. He has also been pumped full of liquids (to combat mild dehydration), steroids, anti-nausea meds, appetite stimulants, and his first round of chemo. His oncologist wants to see him in two weeks, barring a change in his condition, and we're going to have to start a medication calendar.
Maggie-dog is also relieved; she was wandering all over the house last night looking for Ezra. She is now behaving as if she's guarding him. I'm not sure how Ez feels about this.
Amazingly, he has not retreated to the Fortress of Solitude (also known as the space beneath my sewing table / under the bed) in the granny's attic. He's been very social, talkative, and a little clingy. This is not to say that Ezra has not been lodging formal protests; there have been some very vocal accusations about just What Sort of People We Are, leaving him overnight in a place where he was poked, prodded, pincushion-ed, and -- insult of insults -- all of his fluffy, hand-attracting Belleh Fur was shaved off! Horrors! And of course, having been brought up as a Southern Gentle-cat, he knows how to throw a genteel and mannerly-but-vehement snit fit. I recognize the symptoms, having seen them in a few humans as well. I can handle it, and his reaction is not without reason; if he were wearing a suit, it would be as if someone had walked up and shredded his waistcoat.
I'm doing my best to be coherent, but I'm honestly amazed that I can string two words together; this is why I haven't responded to any of the well-wishes just yet. I am keeping track, and deeply appreciate everyone who has responded to both me and seachanges. At any rate, Ezra's fourth parent, rpechmann, just walked in with dinner, so I should go eat something.
The folk at Alameda East were able to get Ez to eat overnight. He has also been pumped full of liquids (to combat mild dehydration), steroids, anti-nausea meds, appetite stimulants, and his first round of chemo. His oncologist wants to see him in two weeks, barring a change in his condition, and we're going to have to start a medication calendar.
Maggie-dog is also relieved; she was wandering all over the house last night looking for Ezra. She is now behaving as if she's guarding him. I'm not sure how Ez feels about this.
Amazingly, he has not retreated to the Fortress of Solitude (also known as the space beneath my sewing table / under the bed) in the granny's attic. He's been very social, talkative, and a little clingy. This is not to say that Ezra has not been lodging formal protests; there have been some very vocal accusations about just What Sort of People We Are, leaving him overnight in a place where he was poked, prodded, pincushion-ed, and -- insult of insults -- all of his fluffy, hand-attracting Belleh Fur was shaved off! Horrors! And of course, having been brought up as a Southern Gentle-cat, he knows how to throw a genteel and mannerly-but-vehement snit fit. I recognize the symptoms, having seen them in a few humans as well. I can handle it, and his reaction is not without reason; if he were wearing a suit, it would be as if someone had walked up and shredded his waistcoat.
I'm doing my best to be coherent, but I'm honestly amazed that I can string two words together; this is why I haven't responded to any of the well-wishes just yet. I am keeping track, and deeply appreciate everyone who has responded to both me and seachanges. At any rate, Ezra's fourth parent, rpechmann, just walked in with dinner, so I should go eat something.