(no subject)
Ugh. Really, just "ugh." Today has been like that. And I hate to post a majority of negative posts on here, but let me vent (and get a little emo) here--maybe I'll try to make up for it with a bipolar-esque turnaround tomorrow evening.
So... How "ugh" was today really, you might ask...? Put it this way: I drove around listening to the the greatest hits of R.E.M., and found it to be a good choice to match my emotions.
Bitch #1: Boris cut himself open again on Sunday. Pretty bad, too. A nice little two-inch triangle of flesh with no actual skin over the top to pull together. It just looks like he bit it off or ripped a patch out. Anyway, Mike just happened to be around when I discovered this, and together (with Sara's help via phone), we patched him up really well. Enough that I saw him this morning, and I actually spent most of the morning wondering if I should even call the vet. He walks. He eats. He drinks. He even climbs on furniture. He curled up in my lap this afternoon while I read a comic.
In the end, I did call the vet--since it makes no sense not to--but my goal tomorrow is less the "let's just fix him up" as it is, What are the possible long-term solutions? I would be fine with trying sedatives to reduce his seizures, purchasing a kitty vest/jacket to protect his skin, and even possibly declawing him to limit the self-damage. I just cannot justify euthanizing Boris because of these wounds, as constant as they may be. If I can get by with home medical treatment (and only taking him in for infections, perhaps) I would do that. I feel like it is better for him to eventually die of these wounds--yes, even painfully--instead of me having him put to sleep because *I* think it *might* be the best course of action to prevent further *possible* (*non-fatal*) injury. I know that argument doesn't sound too strong, especially when I put it in those terms, but it is a moral choice based on the fact that he cannot communicate his desires to me.
For the record, if he were a human and he could communicate that he wished to die rather than spend a life of seizues and self-induced pain, I would let him. I would try to dissuade him, but I would ultimately allow and accept his choice.
And this, it seems, segueways nicely into my second vent session...
Moan #2: Tonight I found out that one of the trombone players from Community Band has suffered a spinal embolism and is most likely going to be paralyzed from the neck-down. His name is Steve, and although we were never particularly close, he is probably the third-best trombone player outside of my friend Dan and myself. Outside of knowing that it really sucks, I am still not sure how I feel about this.
For one, this puts my problems in perspective. Really, I have no room to complain about anything--especially something as mundane as my family cat. But nevertheless, it has only added to my "ugh".
[pause]
So. After just having a brief talk with my Mom about the cat, I find it to be later at night than I want it to be... I still feel kinda shitty, but I understand that being awake and venting won't be as useful for me as just getting a good night's rest. I am still working a half-day tomorrow (before the vet appointment), so it is best to get to bed earlier and get a full eight-hours or so. Ugh.
So... How "ugh" was today really, you might ask...? Put it this way: I drove around listening to the the greatest hits of R.E.M., and found it to be a good choice to match my emotions.
Bitch #1: Boris cut himself open again on Sunday. Pretty bad, too. A nice little two-inch triangle of flesh with no actual skin over the top to pull together. It just looks like he bit it off or ripped a patch out. Anyway, Mike just happened to be around when I discovered this, and together (with Sara's help via phone), we patched him up really well. Enough that I saw him this morning, and I actually spent most of the morning wondering if I should even call the vet. He walks. He eats. He drinks. He even climbs on furniture. He curled up in my lap this afternoon while I read a comic.
In the end, I did call the vet--since it makes no sense not to--but my goal tomorrow is less the "let's just fix him up" as it is, What are the possible long-term solutions? I would be fine with trying sedatives to reduce his seizures, purchasing a kitty vest/jacket to protect his skin, and even possibly declawing him to limit the self-damage. I just cannot justify euthanizing Boris because of these wounds, as constant as they may be. If I can get by with home medical treatment (and only taking him in for infections, perhaps) I would do that. I feel like it is better for him to eventually die of these wounds--yes, even painfully--instead of me having him put to sleep because *I* think it *might* be the best course of action to prevent further *possible* (*non-fatal*) injury. I know that argument doesn't sound too strong, especially when I put it in those terms, but it is a moral choice based on the fact that he cannot communicate his desires to me.
For the record, if he were a human and he could communicate that he wished to die rather than spend a life of seizues and self-induced pain, I would let him. I would try to dissuade him, but I would ultimately allow and accept his choice.
And this, it seems, segueways nicely into my second vent session...
Moan #2: Tonight I found out that one of the trombone players from Community Band has suffered a spinal embolism and is most likely going to be paralyzed from the neck-down. His name is Steve, and although we were never particularly close, he is probably the third-best trombone player outside of my friend Dan and myself. Outside of knowing that it really sucks, I am still not sure how I feel about this.
For one, this puts my problems in perspective. Really, I have no room to complain about anything--especially something as mundane as my family cat. But nevertheless, it has only added to my "ugh".
[pause]
So. After just having a brief talk with my Mom about the cat, I find it to be later at night than I want it to be... I still feel kinda shitty, but I understand that being awake and venting won't be as useful for me as just getting a good night's rest. I am still working a half-day tomorrow (before the vet appointment), so it is best to get to bed earlier and get a full eight-hours or so. Ugh.