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Won-Ton Reflects

I Have Been In The Hospital

I have had way too many medical adventures these past few months. I do not like that kind of excitement; it is most unpleasant. But, sadly, I have not been a well kitty, and my mom and dad needed to help me get better by taking me to the specialist hospital.

I was having tummy trouble, with lots of pain and discomfort. It got worse and worse until one night I threw up a hairball of profoundly gargantuan proportions. I doubt that in the entire history of catkind, such a gigantic hairball has ever come out of such a dainty little girl such as myself. It was truly shocking. My mom was scared of it, it was so massive. She was almost afraid to touch it, but she mustered the courage from somewhere deep within and cleaned it up. Sometimes I really admire her bravery.

But even after getting such a monstrous object out of my tummy, I still felt really horrible. So much so, in fact, that I vomited a huge amount of blood. My mom and dad were very extremely scared by that, and took me in to the overnight emergency clinic. They gave me pain meds and something else to help my stomach.

They also said that I needed to get an ultrasound to rule out an obstruction, but they could not do it there, we had to go somewhere else to have it done. But the place they sent us to couldn't do it, nor could the place the second place sent us to. And even the next place couldn't do it. There was nowhere in 2 counties that could do an ultrasound that night. It felt like I was spending more time in my carrier in the car being driven all over creation looking for an ultrasound than I was at home. It was scary and stressful on top of me already feeling really sick.

Finally my mom and dad found a place that could do the tests I needed, but it was a long drive away. The people there were very nice. They gave me pain meds and lots of friendly scritchy-scratches, and I had a little snuggle-bed to hide in like a secret cave. I had to stay there for several days because of so many tests they had to do, but my mom and dad came to visit me every day, so that was nice.

I felt really strange from being on pain meds for so many days. It helped the pain to stop bothering me, but I felt so . . . peculiarly silly and goofy, I guess you could say. Everything felt soft and cottony and everything was so relaxed and nice and I didn't care about anything that was happening, because of how the pain meds made me feel.

Except for the day they did one particular test, called an endoscopy. When I woke up from that I felt really lousy, horribly lousy. Not even pain meds helped me feel okay. On that day my mom came by herself to visit me and I spent the whole visit curled in her lap with my eyes closed, feeling miserable. I was so glad I could lay on her tummy for a little while and get some peace and comfort, but it wasn't long enough. I wanted to lie there until the misery went away, but after a little while a nurse came into the room and brought me back to my little snuggle-bed in the hospital. I could tell my mom was really sad that no one knew what was wrong with me and she was really worried.

The nice people at the specialist hospital tried ever so hard to figure out what was wrong with me. All they knew for sure was that I'd had a bleeding ulcer but no obstruction. I had thickening of my stomach but no cancer -- but abnormal cells in the stomach region anyway. No one knew exactly what was making me sick.

I was on a lot of meds for a while, and I had a feeding tube in my neck. I don't know why I had a feeding tube because I wanted to eat regular food and I was able to eat regular food in the regular manner, but I still had a feeding tube because they said I had to have special food that had to get into my tummy whether I felt like eating or not. I didn't mind getting meds through the tube, but getting the special food through the tube was really yucky. I did not like that one bit. My mom and dad gave me plenty of my regular food that I ate eagerly so they were able to taper off the special yucky food, but I still had to get my meds through the tube, and on a strict schedule too because one of the meds had to be given on an empty stomach and the rest had to be given with food. It got so complicated my mom had to make a flow chart just to make sure the right things happened at the right times and that she and my dad didn't forget anything or give the wrong medicines at the wrong times.

The day the feeding tube came out was one of the happiest days of my life. The end of the tube had kept on getting loose from its sleeve around my neck and poking me in the face, and it itched where it came out of my neck. I kept on trying to scratch it but it was attached in such a way that I couldn't twist around far enough to reach it. I was supposed to wear one of those [CENSORED] cones, but my mom and dad wouldn't put it on me. They knew it would stress me out too much, and they watched me to make sure I didn't scratch the incision site or pull the tube out. They were even more glad than I was when the tube was removed.

It took me a while to recover, and I had a little relapse where I had to go back to the specialist hospital to get another ultrasound, but all in all I am feeling a lot better than I was. The inflammation has gone down but I still have the abnormal cells that are supposedly not cancer. My ulcer has healed and I haven't been throwing up lately. So that's good. I have days where I don't feel quite myself and I spend them quietly curled up in my mom's lap or on the shelf in my dad's office, but days of quiet curling up are good. Too much adventure is tiresome after a while. I look forward to more quiet days. My mom doesn't feel very well either, so she and I can keep each other company.

I Have Been To The Emergency Clinic

I have been sick. When I went wee it hurt. A lot. And there was blood in my wee. So my dad took me to the emergency clinic, and I had to stay there for several hours because they had to poke me and prod me and stick things in me to find out what was wrong. It was hurting so bad to go wee that I held it for hours and hours and hours, but when I really needed to go I couldn't because I knew how much it would hurt.

Finally they injected me with medicine and I went home with my dad. It was nice to be home but I felt miserable because it still hurt really bad to go wee. I would cry and cry and cry. My mom went back to the emergency clinic in the middle of the night to get pain medicine for me. That really helped me feel better. I began being able to go wee normally. I didn't feel like I was on fire when I went, and I felt like going more often, which helped me feel better. And eventually I didn't need the pain medicine anymore, and I got better.

But my mom and dad took me back to the vet to make sure the infection was really all gone. At the vet they poked me and prodded me some more, and stuck me with needles in my belly and my neck. I really do not like it at that place. It is never nice there. The people who work there all say they like me a lot and that I'm their favorite, but then they do such undignified things to me when I'm there, so how much could they really like me, you know? If they liked me as much as my mom and dad do, they wouldn't poke me with needles or try to take my temperature. It is very confusing for me, and most unpleasant.

Anyway, according to them my infection really is all gone. And I do not have a bladder stone, either. I could have told them that, but no one ever asked me. They just hauled me in to the vet where they poked me and prodded me and took my X-ray, none of which I enjoyed, and none of which, apparently, was really necessary since I am as good as new.

So that is the story of what happened recently. I am strictly not allowed on my mom's computer so I can't tell lots of stories about me very often anymore. My mom doesn't feel very well herself these days and sometimes I sit in her lap when she's sitting in bed. We have a nice cuddle and some quiet time together. She is one of the quietest people I know, almost as quiet as a cat. That's what I like about her.

I Learn More About the Neighborhood Riff-raff

I have learned something interesting about the riff-raff hanging around in my neighborhood. I was listening to my mom and dad talk the other day (sometimes paying attention to humans talking really pays off), and over the course of their conversation I learned some interesting things about Nasty Cat, Evil (and Stupid) Cat, et al.

They are feral.

They have been living in the crawl space under the neighbor's house and drinking the water left for them by those neighbors.

They have been using the other neighbor's yard as their litter box, and they have been eating the food left out for them by that neighbor's neighbor.

And, last but not least, they have been *breeding*.

No wonder there is a problem here! They are not the kind of feline we want around this place! They represent an undesirable element in the neighborhood! The last thing we need is a new generation of Nasty Cats, especially when aided and abetted by well-meaning but clueless neighbors!!

But I learned a few more things too. The neighbors under whose house they have been reproducing themselves have been humanely trapping them so they can get spayed or neutered and vaccinated. This is a good thing! We do not need anymore of the likes of them inundating the neighborhood. They are an undesirable element that should not be allowed here. All they do is cause trouble and fights and really make my blood boil, and they probably spread feline diseases too.

So it's good they have been spayed and all, but there is a downside to this: after the surgery they are being released back here! It is good they cannot reproduce anymore but it is very bad that they are back here again. I have had two fights through the windows with a couple of them already since they are back. Too bad neutering hasn't made them any nicer.

I know I sound like an insufferable snob (at least, that's what my mom thinks), but really, think about it -- they are not good neighbors. They stir up trouble. They go looking for fights. They are feral. They will reproduce themselves, escalating the problem. They are probably spreading feline diseases. They talk trash to me when trespassing on *my turf*. They sneer their pathetic little kitty sneers and taunt me with their insolent little kitty taunts, as if they have all the right in the world to usurp my territory. Ooh, it really makes my blood boil the more I think about it! They are so lucky I can't get outside and give them all the proper thrashing they so richly deserve . . .

OK, I digress. Anyway, there is a problem here because they really ought to be relocated somewhere far away where they can't ever find their way back to my turf. I thought once they were carted away to get spayed or neutered and vaccinated, that would be the last I'd ever see of them once and for all. I thought I could finally have some peace and quiet around here at night. I thought I would never again suffer the insult of them violating my personal territory. But I guess that is just not to be, and I am stuck with their miserable presences for the foreseeable future. Oh, woe is me. Is there no end to my nightmare?