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I just got home from the vet.
The whole drive down there, we sat in some of the worst LA traffic I’ve seen in years (at least it felt that way . . . my perception was obviously skewed by grief and worry) and Sketch howled and panted the entire way, so I scritched his little fang face, and told him how so many kitties and monkeys were pulling for him, and how we were getting closer to the doctor who would take care of him and help him feel better. The truthis, I was trying to convince myself more than him. By the time we got there, he was breathing so hard he wasn’t even holding his head up, and I was convinced that he was going to die before I could get him into the waiting room.
As soon as we walked in, a tech came over and put him into an oxygen cage to help him calm down and breathe, while Anne and I waited to talk with the doctor.
After a few tense minutes, the vet came in, and told us that Sketch has congestive heart failure, and that’s why his lungs are filling up with fluid. He said that this is a common condition in Maine Coon cats, and he’s treated it many times before. It was very reassuring to hear so much confidence from the vet. At least now we have an idea of how to proceed.
We still don’t know what brought it on, and until we perform the cardiac ultrasound, we won’t know for sure, or how to treat it. The vet told us that he can drain Sketch’s lungs with Lasix, and when Sketch calms down, he’ll be able to do the ultrasound. He’s pretty sure it’s hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, though, and he told us that he just saw a kitty this morning who he treated a year ago, who looked just like Sketch when she came in. I don’t want to have false hope, but Anne keeps saying, “I just don’t think it’s Sketch’s time to go,” and I desperately want to believe her.
The really sad news is that, even after his lungs are cleared out, we won’t ever be able to reverse the damage to his heart, and he will eventually die from it. If we *are* able to drain his lungs and figure out what’s wrong with his heart, he should have good quality of life, though he’ll spend the rest of it on medication.
The really encouraging news is that the vet knew right away what was wrong, and how to get Sketch comfortable and stabilized. He told us that once a cat is stabilized from this sort of thing, it’s very rare for them to worsen or die. So we’re hopeful, but prepared for the worst, as well.
You know that saying, “Prepare for the worst, hope for the best”? When you’re actually doing it, it’s a lot harder than it sounds.
The doctor wants to take things slowly with Sketch, so he doesn’t stress him out and make things worse, so right now we’re just focused on making him comfortable and getting his lungs clear. Once that’s done, we’ll do the ultrasound, and then we’ll get a better picture of what comes next. I doubt we’ll know anything for at least 24 hours.
I want to thank everyone who has kept Anne, me, and Sketch in your thoughts. Your comments and e-mails have meant a great deal to us (even Sketch, who only reads at a first grade level.)
I’ll post more when I know more.

I feel like I’m on a roller coaster right now . . .
My cat Sketch will be eleven years old in April. I’ve had him since he was five weeks old.
Friday night, I came home from ACME, and he was acting strangely: he was in the hallway (not on my bed where he usually is) breathing very heavily and rapidly. There was something clearly wrong with him.
Saturday morning, I took him to the vet, and she took some Xrays. They showed that his lungs were about 1/2 full of fluid, and none of the vets could figure out why. They think it may be something with his heart.
He spent the weekend at this 24 hour emergency vet, where they gave him some oxygen and some other medication, to help clear out his lungs. They took more Xrays yesterday evening, and there wasn’t any significant change.
This afternoon, the vet told me that he hasn’t responded to any of the medication, so tomorrow morning I’m taking him to get a cardiac ultrasound. The vet told me and Anne that he should be okay to stay with us overnight, so Anne brought him home, where he can sleep on our bed with us, and be close to his brother, Biko.
I just got back from ACME (the running joke is that I secretly live under the stage there now) and Sketch is in my bedroom with Anne.He’s really struggling. He hasn’t gotten worse (if he does, I will take him right back to the emergency vet), but he’s not getting better, either. If the ultrasound shows that he’s got some heart thing that I can’t remember the name of right now, he’ll get on medication right away, and it should clear out his lungs and put him back together.
But if it’s inconclusive, or shows something worse, I’m not going to let him suffer because I can’t say goodbye. I hope I don’t have to make that decision, and I’ve been appealing to The Universe all day to give Sketch a natural 20 on his saving throw. Please?
He’s such a tough little guy, I never thought that he would get sick like this, and so suddenly. Biko is the runt of their litter, and Felix has been in and out of the vet so many times, they’re naming a boat after him . . . but I love Sketch so much, I don’t want him to go. It would mean a lot to me if anyone who reads this would take a moment and send Sketch some kitty mojo, especially to his heart and lungs.
You can call him “Tubby,” or “Fatty,” or “Fat Boy,” or “Chunk,” too, because he responds to all those names. He’s my tubby little guy.
Thanks.

Do you ever have something really exciting that you want to share with the world, but you’re not allowed to talk about it? It drives you nuts that you have to keep it to yourself, so you quietly mention it to Janet, but Chrissy overhears you from the kitchen, and thinks you’re dying, so she tells Larry, and pretty soon you’re attending your own wake down at the Regal Beagle. You think this could be a chance to get Mr. Roper to give you a break on the rent, and maybe get a little something-something from that Kaylnn girl who passes out skates at the roller rink, but Mrs. Roper finds out the truth, and somehow you’re learning an embarassing lesson in front of all your friends, rather than getting lucky on the waterbed in your cousin’s van conversion.
In other words, I’ve been sitting on this big news for weeks, and I just got the green light to announce it. So pay attention, Chrissy:
I am writing a weekly column for The Onion A/V Club! Yeah, that’s right! The Onion A/V Club! Wooo!
Check out the spiffy announcement:

The Onion A.V. Club also extends a hearty welcome to a new contributor who comes to us from Hollywood via the Internet. Each week, actor/author/gaming enthusiast/icon/renaissance man Wil Wheaton, who maintains an online presence at wilwheaton.net, will take a look back to games past with his Games Of Our Lives column, reaching beyond Pac-Man and Donkey Kong to find the dusty arcade games and worn-out cartridges that paved the way for the games of today.

(When I read that, I told my editor, “I love it. Can I just tell you how happy I am that it’s not all ‘Star Trek Star Trek Star Trek Star Trek (tiny font: writes some stuff too.)’?”
He said, “Well, the original draft referred to you as ‘the spunky lad who saved the universe’ and then went on to say ‘Star Trek, Star Trek, Star Trek.’ Then I had second thoughts.”)
Can you freakin’ believe that I get to write for them?! Holy shit! Writing this column is as much fun as doing Love Machine at ACME each week. I get a chance to be funny, add something pretty prestigious to my resume, and I finally have an excuse for playing so many classic video games. I mean, how many people do you know who could deduct an X-arcade Controller? 🙂
I did an interview with The Onion A/V Club in 2002. If you haven’t seen it, you can read it here.
My first Games of Our Lives appears tomorrow. Check it out, and let me know what you think!

I just got off the phone with my manager.
The casting people loved me, and thought I gave a great reading, but . . . (wait for it) I’m not going to get a chance to bring The Script to life. The producers want to go in a different direction, and some of my essences (too smart for my own good, Passionate with a capital “P”) worked against me. The tiny silver lining is that the people I read for know what I look like and what I’m bring to a role now. That’s good, because there will be other shows . . . sigh.
I still haven’t heard anything about the