I managed to get an earlier appointment instead of the 350pm one. Meanou, the big cat, still wasn't looking too well. He lay more or less in the same spot the whole night, by the door, on a foot mat. At one point, I grabbed a big cushion and lay down next to him and slept like that for a few hours, afraid that he may wake up and start convulsions or whatever serious symptoms... I woke up tired, exhausted, and with a sore back . He still did not stir or purr...
My other kitty, Sutty, is looking at me as I write this. Does she know the other cat is gone? Is her pacing up and down and meowing because she is searching for her companion for the past six, seven months...? We can only wonder what our furry friends are thinking...
As I looked into Meanou's eyes as he lay there on the vet's examination table, I felt such guilt... Was he looking at me and thinking "How did you let this happen to me?" Was he thinking "What did I do to you? I've been a sweet cat all this time..." I felt more guilty that he lost his purr, that he lost the ability to even move his head and his limbs. All he could do was wag his tail, but only just a little bit... Did he know what was happening to him?
I stroked his face, stroked his body. Whereas normally he would purr, he did not this time. I haven't heard him purr in the last 48hrs, which should have been a sign for he is a purrer who gets easily purry upon touch. It was heartaching to see such a sweet creature just lie there, motionless, with his eyes half open, no quite sleeping, but also not quite awake either.
I waited in the vet's room for almost an hour, stroked his body softly and placed my face on his back, silently wishing he would get better, get stronger. It seemed like a grueling process and wait period from the moment the vet took his blood sample to when he returned with the diagnosis.
The first few words were a relief, shattering what he had said earlier about perhaps having to make a "choice". That word "choice" made me weak and sick and feel all the more guilty... Who was I, if I had to, to decide the fate of another creature again? I did that with my previous cat, and in a way, I had to do that with my own mother.... and now again with Meanou? There is no heavier burden than to wield that power and being forced to make a choice. That in itself is not a choice anyone would wish to have a choice to make...
It wasn't a matter of choice under the circumstances. The vet diagnosed him with elevated levels of glucose, almost triple the normal amount. In short, Meanou has Diabetes, Type II, developed almost certainly from his obesity. This could only mean that his pancreas was not functioning properly and that his little (or rather, quite large) body is not producing enough insulin to break down all that sugar. So he loses energy, loses weight, and many other organs like the liver and even the brain when it gets to the extreme point, are starved of energy. Luckily it did not get to that point, the point of convulsions and seizures, but he was close, the vet said.
He needs to stay at the hospital for 3-5 days, for monitoring, for treatment. These are crucial days, if he makes it, he will be fine. Not like kidney disease or failure, for it is certainly fatal in the long term (within a month), but with pancreatic illness, the issue can be treated, and if the cat responds to the treatment, he will survive and can lead a happy, purry life under a good diet. But these coming days will be touch and go...
I went home, without Meanou, and as soon as I entered the house, the other cat walked into the corridor. I've gotten used to, without really realising it, two cats welcoming me home. It felt strange with just one. In the air was the stench of his urine, he was peeing much more than before, which I thought was just because he was drinking much more than before due to the Summer heat. Little did I know, drinking a lot and peeing a lot (at times, even outside of the litter box) were classic symptoms of diabetes. Indeed, the pee would be so sticky and large clumps of litter would form, making it hard to clean. Once I caught him in the act and peeing outside the box and I got so upset I slapped him... Now I know it is not his fault... His body was giving signs that there was something wrong. As I looked into his eyes, I felt these pangs of guilt. I was negligent... I didn't pay more attention to his peeing habits and just assumed with clean litter , food and fresh water, he would be fine. And look at what happened...
I went back to see Meanou in the evening, the pet hospital being around half an hour away on foot. The vet called me just as I was walking there, and told me he started to lie on his chest, which is a good sign, for before he could barely even lift his own head. When I saw him, he looked more alert, yet he also looked so sad and tired... He had a bowl of food but he did not seem to touch it at all.
The doctor explained carefully what they had done and what treatment Meanou was getting. I listened and felt so grateful that at least there were signs of improvement, and that the vet was so professional and doing their best. I looked at the IV drip and bags of saline solution and tubes leading to Meanou's body... A flashback back to the hospital with my mum.
The feelings of worry, fear, anxiety and stress over the unknown flowed through me. In the hospital, waiting and praying a loved one would be ok, listening to the doctor explain my loved one's condition... how many times have I experienced this? How many times have I gone through this?
I spent some time alone with Meanou... stroked his head and body. He was not very responsive, still not purring. The vet said diabetic shock induces a form of dizziness that makes the cat (or human being) disoriented and lose sense of what is really happening. He probably did not recognise, and just looked down at the bowl of his food, sniffed it and did not eat it. Maybe he did not have the energy to even eat...
But eat he must. Eat he must to get better, eat he must without throwing up to gain strength again and beat this lure of falling even more into critical and toward death...
I sit in my living room, while I imagine Meanou in the cage at the hospital. There is a technician there all the time, which is a good thing, as he is at least being monitored. But I do worry... the worst is not over yet. Tomorrow is another day.
I just hope and pray, hope and pray he will be ok...
I should have really cared more for him. Will I have another chance to care for him again?
My other kitty, Sutty, is looking at me as I write this. Does she know the other cat is gone? Is her pacing up and down and meowing because she is searching for her companion for the past six, seven months...? We can only wonder what our furry friends are thinking...
As I looked into Meanou's eyes as he lay there on the vet's examination table, I felt such guilt... Was he looking at me and thinking "How did you let this happen to me?" Was he thinking "What did I do to you? I've been a sweet cat all this time..." I felt more guilty that he lost his purr, that he lost the ability to even move his head and his limbs. All he could do was wag his tail, but only just a little bit... Did he know what was happening to him?
I stroked his face, stroked his body. Whereas normally he would purr, he did not this time. I haven't heard him purr in the last 48hrs, which should have been a sign for he is a purrer who gets easily purry upon touch. It was heartaching to see such a sweet creature just lie there, motionless, with his eyes half open, no quite sleeping, but also not quite awake either.
I waited in the vet's room for almost an hour, stroked his body softly and placed my face on his back, silently wishing he would get better, get stronger. It seemed like a grueling process and wait period from the moment the vet took his blood sample to when he returned with the diagnosis.
The first few words were a relief, shattering what he had said earlier about perhaps having to make a "choice". That word "choice" made me weak and sick and feel all the more guilty... Who was I, if I had to, to decide the fate of another creature again? I did that with my previous cat, and in a way, I had to do that with my own mother.... and now again with Meanou? There is no heavier burden than to wield that power and being forced to make a choice. That in itself is not a choice anyone would wish to have a choice to make...
It wasn't a matter of choice under the circumstances. The vet diagnosed him with elevated levels of glucose, almost triple the normal amount. In short, Meanou has Diabetes, Type II, developed almost certainly from his obesity. This could only mean that his pancreas was not functioning properly and that his little (or rather, quite large) body is not producing enough insulin to break down all that sugar. So he loses energy, loses weight, and many other organs like the liver and even the brain when it gets to the extreme point, are starved of energy. Luckily it did not get to that point, the point of convulsions and seizures, but he was close, the vet said.
He needs to stay at the hospital for 3-5 days, for monitoring, for treatment. These are crucial days, if he makes it, he will be fine. Not like kidney disease or failure, for it is certainly fatal in the long term (within a month), but with pancreatic illness, the issue can be treated, and if the cat responds to the treatment, he will survive and can lead a happy, purry life under a good diet. But these coming days will be touch and go...
I went home, without Meanou, and as soon as I entered the house, the other cat walked into the corridor. I've gotten used to, without really realising it, two cats welcoming me home. It felt strange with just one. In the air was the stench of his urine, he was peeing much more than before, which I thought was just because he was drinking much more than before due to the Summer heat. Little did I know, drinking a lot and peeing a lot (at times, even outside of the litter box) were classic symptoms of diabetes. Indeed, the pee would be so sticky and large clumps of litter would form, making it hard to clean. Once I caught him in the act and peeing outside the box and I got so upset I slapped him... Now I know it is not his fault... His body was giving signs that there was something wrong. As I looked into his eyes, I felt these pangs of guilt. I was negligent... I didn't pay more attention to his peeing habits and just assumed with clean litter , food and fresh water, he would be fine. And look at what happened...
I went back to see Meanou in the evening, the pet hospital being around half an hour away on foot. The vet called me just as I was walking there, and told me he started to lie on his chest, which is a good sign, for before he could barely even lift his own head. When I saw him, he looked more alert, yet he also looked so sad and tired... He had a bowl of food but he did not seem to touch it at all.
The doctor explained carefully what they had done and what treatment Meanou was getting. I listened and felt so grateful that at least there were signs of improvement, and that the vet was so professional and doing their best. I looked at the IV drip and bags of saline solution and tubes leading to Meanou's body... A flashback back to the hospital with my mum.
The feelings of worry, fear, anxiety and stress over the unknown flowed through me. In the hospital, waiting and praying a loved one would be ok, listening to the doctor explain my loved one's condition... how many times have I experienced this? How many times have I gone through this?
I spent some time alone with Meanou... stroked his head and body. He was not very responsive, still not purring. The vet said diabetic shock induces a form of dizziness that makes the cat (or human being) disoriented and lose sense of what is really happening. He probably did not recognise, and just looked down at the bowl of his food, sniffed it and did not eat it. Maybe he did not have the energy to even eat...
But eat he must. Eat he must to get better, eat he must without throwing up to gain strength again and beat this lure of falling even more into critical and toward death...
I sit in my living room, while I imagine Meanou in the cage at the hospital. There is a technician there all the time, which is a good thing, as he is at least being monitored. But I do worry... the worst is not over yet. Tomorrow is another day.
I just hope and pray, hope and pray he will be ok...
I should have really cared more for him. Will I have another chance to care for him again?
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