Worst, Halloween. Ever.
My cat, Mr. Boo, is quite elderly and has lots of problems, among which are renal failure, majorly bad spinal arthritis, and possible pancreatic problems. He gets so many medications, he's like my little old man.
Things got really rough for him about a week ago Friday. We went to the vet for his subcutaneous fluids, and they were pretty busy so one of the techs came in to do it instead of the doctor. Unfortunately he's scared of her because he associates her from a prior unpleasant visit where he had to get an enema, so he freaked, tried to climb me, and it wasn't pretty. This was the day before I left for the hair show.
That night he didn't want much to do with me in terms of crawling up on my lap (which is really unusual), but I figured it wasn't a big deal because he'd had a rough day.
I wasn't home much the next day, so I didn't really notice anything. I worked from 9-1, came home and packed up the van to pick up my coworkers to go to the show. The ex called me several times over the weekend to tell me Boo hadn't eaten much, but I figured it wasn't unusual, since things were kind of disrupted with me being gone and stuff.
I come home to find him limping, badly. Again, not unusual, considering his arthritis. He didn't spend much time on my lap, but again, disruptive weekend.
We went for his fluids Tuesday. I tell the doctor everything. Nobody's worried under the circumstances.
Thursday I take the other cat Elvis in for his geriatric blood work and to get his fructosamine checked (he has a history of diabetes though it's been in remission for several years). Was worried about Boo but things seemed to improve slightly, so I didn't really mention much about it.
Friday I take Boo for fluids. We see a doctor we hadn't seen before, which is usually okay except considering how many problems Boo has, I feel slightly better seeing one of the other two doctors because they know his whole history for the last 9 years. Still, I want Boo (and me, for that matter) to be used to everyone there, because you never know what's going to happen or who's going to be there when we need help. He listens to Boo's chest and says the lungs are pretty clear, but the heart has an arrhythmia. So I start worrying more. Boo had a heart murmur, which the doctor didn't detect. When I asked, the doctor said that this wasn't any more dangerous than the murmur, and that it could be an intermittent thing brought on by stress. Well, he'd had plenty of stress in the last week, so I agreed with that. I told the doctor the other symptoms--lack of interest in lap time, skipping the litter box in favor of a puppy pad on the floor, decreased appetite, and marathon sessions of drinking water. At the end of the appointment we agreed that an appetite stimulant might be the way to go. In the meantime, Elvis's results weren't in yet.
Later that night, I discover Boo has blood in his urine. So first I think to myself, "Well THERE'S the problem."
I call the vet first thing the next morning and speak to one of our regular doctors, fully expecting that they'd want to see Boo. The doctor tells me that I can just pick up some antibiotics, that we'll treat it as a lower urinary tract infection and hope that that's what it is, because if it's his kidneys, there isn't much we can do any way. Sounds reasonable to me so far.
-HOWEVER--
Elvis's results came in, and apparently HE has renal failure, too, and his blood work had showed signs of dehydration (too much protein in the blood or something). The doctor wanted to see Elvis that day for fluids and go over his treatment plan.
I felt like I'd been punched.
So once we're there, the doctor says Elvis won't need any meds because the rest of his health is reasonably good, and that if I can get him to eat exclusively the prescription food, he probably won't need subcutaneous fluids, at least not for a long time, that we may still be able to control this with diet. Okay, fine. I take home a few cans of food and Boo's antibiotics.
Boo gets worse as the day goes on. He eats, which seems encouraging, but he won't get up to go to the bathroom. Also, he's started breathing harder. I totally freaked out--and of course the vet is closed. So I sat up with him for most of the night, sleeping in a chair until about 4 am, when I woke up and went to my own bed.
He seems marginally better this morning. He still won't eat or use the litter, but he got up and drank LOTS of water, walking on his own steam. I can only hope that the antibiotics are starting to kick in and do something for him, but I'm just too scared to let him out of my sight.
I'm so sleep-deprived and I have a test tomorrow...and I don't even feel like I've got any business going to school.
