The past seven days have been some of the most turbulent days of my life. While I celebrated the first installment of my column “The Games of Our Lives” in the Onion AV Club, and started the second run of What’s My Line? Live On Stage at ACME, I felt excited and happy . . . but through it all, I was constantly worried about my cat Sketch.
The doctors who treated him were wonderful, and encouraged me to call every few hours to check on him, but whenever I started to dial the phone, my hands got cold and my heart raced. Would this be the call where they tell me how sorry they are, but he suddenly took a turn for the worse and they did all they could but . . .
Fortunately, my worries remained just worries, and he continued to steadily improve all week, and he’s finally home. Right now, he’s sleeping in his favorite spot in my bedroom, between the curtain and the window into the backyard.
His doctor wants to recheck him in five to seven days to determine how his kidneys are doing, and take another x-ray to see how his lungs look. With that information, he’ll be able to let us know if Sketch will be on a diuretic, and if so how often. He’s going to be on heart medication for the rest of his life, and there’s a good chance that it will prevent him from getting fluid in his lungs again, so we’ll see.
Right before we left the vet, he told us that we should watch Sketch closely, and if his breathing becomes labored or rapid, we should give him a diuretic right away (easier said than done — Sketch hates taking pills) and give him a call. It’s weird. A week ago, whenever Sketch walked past me in the house, or I saw him on the couch or under the dining room table, I’d just say, “Hi fatguy!” and keep on doing my thing. Most times, I didn’t even stop to pet him. Since he came home this morning, I’ve been checking on him three or four times an hour (it would be more, but I don’t want to stress him out too much) just to make sure he’s still alive. I stand in the doorway and watch his breathing, and I keep checking his dish to see if he’s eaten. I’ve been a basketcase all week, and I thought that getting him home would put everything back into its right place, but now that he’s here, I realize just how much of an old man he is (about 65 in human years) and how fragile his life is.
I haven’t blogged about how much I’ve cried this week, because anyone playing the Joy of Tech drinking game would probably have cirrhosis by now . . . but I’ve had a week of puffy red eyes and shoulder shaking sobs because, honestly, this ordeal is about much more than just Sketch. I told Anne the other day, while we walked Ferris and Riley through the fading light of a magnificent Winter sunset, “I have been such a mess this week, worrying about Sketch, and it’s tearing me up to know that I’m going to have to go through this with Biko, and Ferris, and Riley, and again with Sketch someday. I have always known that I would outlive all our pets, but if I’m such a mess when I face his mortality, what am I going to do when my parents die? Or what about my brother and sister? I don’t want to even think about it, but I can’t help it. What if I outlive you? What if something happens to you like a car wreck or you get cancer or you fall down and hit your head or —”
She took my hand and said, “I don’t know.”
Neither do I. In times like these, when I realize how complicated and precious our lives are, I long for those days when the biggest problem in my life was choosing between watching Scooby Doo and playing Legend of Zelda, or what shirt I was going to wear to school.
I guess I have to find a balance between taking nothing for granted, while not spending each day thinking about the inevitable loss of the people I love. I guess life is as simple, and as complicated, as that.
In the middle of the night on Saturday, when Sketch was in the emergency vet and we didn’t know what was wrong with him, I walked into the back yard, looked up into the stars, and asked The Universe to take care of him. Some people call it a prayer, some people call it focusing energy, other people call it the final refuge of a desperate man, but I asked, and my fat little guy (whose spine is currently as bony as Monty Burns) pulled through.
I’m so grateful that Sketch is home, and relatively healthy. I am so grateful to the doctors and vets who diagnosed him and nursed him back to health. I am equally grateful to all of you WWdN readers who have virtually held my hand this week. It’s given Anne and me a lot of comfort to hear all the success stories, and to have so much kitty love and mojo.
I have big news, which has only added to the emotional roller coaster that I’ve ridden so violently this week, but I’ll announce it on Monday. Right now, I need to go kiss my wife, and then stand in the doorway and watch my kitty sleep.
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Yay! So glad to hear that Sketch is home!
Oh my god, Wil, I read your updates about Sketch and can’t believe how similar the events are between your kitty and mine. I remember bringing Milo home from the vet and feeling SO GUILTY having to pry open his mouth to give him his pills every day, knowing at the same time that these pills were basically saving his life. I always followed up a pill with a yummy treat, so after a while, he didn’t mind taking his meds anymore.
I also remember staring at him, unblinking, watching him breathe while I watched the second hand of my clock and counted his breaths. I would do this about five times every half-hour. As long as his breathing was within the normal rate, I would breathe a sigh of relief myself and then let the worry build up again until I couldn’t stand it anymore and had to check him again. If Milo ran upstairs or did anything remotely strenuous, I would follow him and watch him like a hawk.
After a while, I calmed down and we got into a nice routine which involved checking his breathing about three times a day and panicking only occasionally.
The point of this endless story is, I know how worrisome this first week back home can be, and Sketch is just SO lucky to have such wonderful parents to care for him and help him get well.
Congratulations on having your fatguy back home again.
hurrah for sketch!!! i am full of brio for your little guy. (thank you, dictionary.com word-a-day emails).
this may be a little off the subject, but have you seen the book Bad Cat? its hilarious!
dude, Data’s Ode to Spot rocks. (two comments earlier). be sure to check it out!
We’re still pulling for you, Wil.
Star has done a lot better since we took her in to the ER last month…she still throws up occasionally, but not like she was doing. The Pepcid is helping. (Pamela, of course, knows all about how to pill a cat, having been a student veterinary technician in the past.) Maui, of course, is just fine. Both of them are doing all they can to keep my spirits up as I recover from the dislocated kneecap I suffered last Tuesday. (I slipped on some black ice at a gas station.)
Continuing to send the kittymojo to Sketch…Sketch? Are you eating yet? Kitties must eat! Perhaps Daddy has a kitty treat for you? Maui loves his kitty treats!
One thing which Buddhism teaches — and this makes so much sense — is that all we have is this moment, right now. Tomorrow is an illusion. Life is not a permanent thing. Consider what happened to this
guy and it kind of changes your perspective on things.
Every so often we adults get a jolt of those “what if” blues. My husband travels a lot on business and I sometimes catch myself asking “what if.” But then I go and play my guitar, clean the fishtank, make dinner, and have a good workout. Worrying about such things never accomplishes anything. It is better to focus on the here and now, and be happy and grateful for the present moment.
That’s how I see it, anyway.
Hi Wil,
You and Sketch are in my thoughts! I wanted to share a handy tip for giving cats pills that my husband and our kitty pharmacy came up with and our vet approved. We, too, have a Maine Coon that is on medication for life and she has to have a pill almost daily. Here’s what we do:
1)Get a large eyedropper from any local pharmacy. Make sure the bulb on top that you squeeze can be removed from the main part that holds liquid. The one we got is actually for human use but works great.
2)Crush pill into fine powder with the back of a spoon in a small bowl. Remove squeeze bulb from top of eyedropper and put in pill powder (making sure to keep finger over bottom so it does not come out other end).
3)Add just enough water (whatever temp your kitty likes) to cover the powder. Essentially, you are converting the nasty, hard-to-swallow pill to a liquid which you can get down faster.
4)Put bulb back on eyedropper. Position kitty just like for pill taking and force mouth open and squirt contents to back of throat. Afterwards, kitty may try to spit out any remnants, so the farther back the better.
If done properly (and this may take a little practice), kitty will spit up virtually none and the entire process takes about 5 seconds. Our cat still hates this, but everybody involved is significantly less traumatized! She gets her squirt now and pretty much forgets it afterwards, with little to no sulking. You may want to run this by your own vet to be sure it’s ok for Sketch, but ours thought it was fine, since it is more important for the medicine to get in the cat than to worry about how it got there. With much mojo–Lebachai
I really love animals. I have big and very kind sheep-dog 🙂 When someone hurted it with some sharp thing and i saw him all in the blood, i felt pain in all my body. It survived, but he can’t see with one eye. It is terrible when something happines to your beloved animal. Good luck for You and your cat.
Wil
I am so happy to hear that Sketch has improved! I could totally feel for you when you were making those phone calls to vet. I’ve been there, heart palpitations, cold hands and all.
I am just glad that the words of readers like myself could comfort you, sometimes in life we need a little hand holding to get through the tough stuff:)
Dear Sketch,
We are glad to hear that our kitty mojo worked. Now you just have to eat some more (ask your mom and dad for some of that Fancy Feast stuff – it’s yummy!) and get stronger. We are very busy with sleeping, lint spotting, and chasing each other, but we will think of you every chance we get and ask Bastet to take care of you.
Lots of kitty love,
Ace “Acey” Ventura and Attitude “Tudie”
I just wanted to say here’s one more person thinking about you and your family. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us. Every time you rub Sketch’s little head, know that we are with you, too.
If I could reach through the computer and give you a hug, I would, Wil. Your posts make me cry, and make me hug my own cats even harder than usual.
Hello!
I’ve only started reading your blog recently, but I really enjoy it. I send many hugs and lots of mojo to your and your adorable kitty. I can’t possibly agree more about finding that happy medium between appreciating life and not being consumed by ‘what ifs’.
This was a nice gentle reminder to appreciate my wonderful kitties while I still can. Thank you for that.
Hey Wil, I am glad for you and Sketch. Its difficult to think about death of loved ones. I have a lot of family and my parents are getting older so the idea that they will not be around one day is devastating and has been lingering in my mind. Just focus on the positive time you have before that time comes. Its our job in life to realize what we have, not what we’re going to lose.
I was just having the conversation you had with Anne with my wife last night while watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.
The family in that episode was two kids (one about 11, the other 4) and a single mom, about 32. She was single only from the three months previous, after losing her young husband to a car crash.
As the tears were building, I was reminded of two things:
1) I will always be a blubbering idiot.
2) Appreciate every single moment I have left with my wife, my pups, my family, as best I can…
3) I am the reality tv show producer’s wet dream.
Glad to hear Sketch is pepping up… and congrats on the good news, whatever that is. 🙂
People are much stronger than they think they are. I’m sure when the moment comes, you’ll find courage you didn’t know you had.
Saint Thomas of Aquinas reasoned that animals have no souls, which tells me that St. Thomas was an idiot. There is a spark of divinity in all life. You and your family, including the fuzzier members, are all in my thoughts and prayers.
In the meantime, to quote Warren Zevon, enjoy every sandwich.
And to quote Red Green, I’m pullin’ for ya. ;o)
Yo Wil, where’s your Slashdot answers? http://interviews.slashdot.org/article.pl?sid=04/11/29/1342247. That was four months ago, dude!
Today at around 3:00pm, the plant manager at work, Sam, collapsed with irregular heart rhythms. He required CPR (he’s alive because of Martin’s quick thinking), the paramedics and a trip to the hospital. My heart actually hurts with the weight of my thoughts for him. He is this sweet old italian guy with an accent who can’t eat spicy food anymore because of some other problems with his health last year.
So when you said this…. “I guess I have to find a balance between taking nothing for granted, while not spending each day thinking about the inevitable loss of the people I love. I guess life is as simple, and as complicated, as that.” …. I felt like you understand how I feel. Like a teeter totter in a playground, the rules of gravity and such determine how it operates, but to actually get it stay balanced in mid-air takes a lot of work. We just breathe in and breathe out and love those we love and enjoy everything they bring to our life, and don’t let the possibility that they won’t always be there kill us in the process. It’s better that way. Thanks Wil.
death is a part of life.
when someone dies the world does not stop.
so the best thing to do is accept it and when the time comes you’ll know how to deal
This whole thing brings tears to my eyes, but in different terms. I don’t have any pets, per se. I grew up with at least one dog in our house and currently have a guide dog. And she’s quickly approaching the age that I promised myself the day I got her that I’d retire her. And the thought both makes me feel a million years old that it’s so close and so desperately sad. In more ways that I can explain in a comment, she’s practically an extension of me – it’s a bond that only another guide dog handler could really understand.
But in short, I absolutely understand what you’re going through and it never gets easier, no matter if it’s a pet or a friend or a family member. It always painful and I guess that’s what makes caring for and loving all of the above so much more wonderful – because at any time that person could be taken from us.
I’m rambling, but anyway, Dolly and I send many hugs, doggy kisses and warm thoughts your way.
I wish there was something that I could say that would make you feel better. I’m 43 and have lost many a beloved family pet due to natural causes. It never gets easier, but one thing is certain. Our pets KNOW how much we love them. I’m sure my old college psychology teacher would say that I’m projecting or ascribing human values to animals, but when I look into the eyes of either of my cats I can see that they know how devoted I am to them.
Sketch knows how much you love him, and whether you realize it or not, that love will help carry him along through all of his days.
I firmly believe that when my days are done that I will be in the presence of all of those wonderful pets I have had throughout my life, for to not have them with me would not be Heaven at all.
Nice one Wil! CSI too, that’s a big deal man!Don’t you be going all Hollywood on us now, will ya?
😉