At the surgeon’s office yesterday afternoon, I was on an accumulated 2 hours of sleep. I ended up having to wake almost every hour to administer one of the four medications the emergency hospital gave me; plus, the thorn was still *in* my cat’s eye as they were afraid to remove it, so I had to hold him from struggling all night while he incessantly pawed and clawed at his face and the cone on his neck, despite the impressive amount of painkillers he was on. I handed him over to the surgical team of two and warned them, “He’s squirmy. He can get away from anyone, so watch out.” Oh, he’s okay, they said and next I heard, “Oh, that’s a good boy. Okay Alex, hold on. Alex — Al — Frank! Frank come in here! Frank!” The male tech ran past the doorway. I could envision the scene. But then again, if strangers were coming for my eye with pointy things, I’d put up a hell of a fight, too.
I got him back in the equivalent of a kitty straightjacket. It was totally not fetish or sexy, nor was it in rubber or leather or black. They were amazing specialists — the whole thing was over in five minutes, tops. I saw the thorn — it had been embedded in exactly the center of his cornea — and it looked like bougainvillea. I have scars all over from a tussle with that particular plant and a wall I had to climb once.
So the warning sticker is to warn the people around him. He’s depressed, on only two meds now, and can’t eat, drink or use the litter box on his own right now. I feed him (he eats but I have to hold it), I force a dropper of water into him (he has no interest in water but I have to keep him hydrated), and when he tries to use the box he bumps into the walls and comes to find me. He comes to me, I set him in the box, he goes, and all is well. Only a few hours ago did he try getting out by himself, and he made it. I think it’s because he can’t see out of one eye, has the bukkake cone on his head, and might be kind of high from whatever they shot him with yesterday. At any rate, I got him his favorite food for the interim (at right); sadly, Best In Show was out of the Turducken he likes so much.
I’m not sure what will happen with the sight in his eye; I take him back in on friday and I think they’ll make him read a little kitty eye chart with little fish and fluffy birds on it or something. I *so* need a massage. So sweet — when I got home Jonno had made me dinner. He’s too busy with his young Apple Genius boy-toy for a shoulder rub, but it’s the world to me. Caretakers need care, too. Thanks to everyone who wrote me worried about Alex — my inbox is a disaster zone and I’ll try to write back soon.
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