My cable service appointment this morning was schedule for some time between 8:00 am and 11:00 am. Naturally this guaranteed the technician’s arrival to be 11:02 am.
He was able to quickly determine that the signal strength at the jack my modem was plugged into was low. Or high. Or off. Not right in any event. Moving to the outside of the building he found the gang splitter where the incoming line from the cable company was split into eight separate lines, one each, presumably, for eight apartments. Inside my garage stall he located the splitters for my outlets. It seems that the single source line to Chez Mark was further split, not once but twice. A three-way, with one of the resulting lines split again by a four-way splitter. The apartment has four dual outlets for a total of eight jacks, only half of which are hot.
Having the line split so many times degrades the single so he set it a new line for me that comes straight from the main splitter outside to my modem jack - eliminating the two intermediate splits. The new measured signal strength was much better. Higher. Or lower. Whatever.
Only time will tell if this has solved the intermittent gremlin my connection has been having recently, but I think he has solved it.
Several months ago my broadband connection started acting up. After several calls to technical support it was determined that my cable modem had “gone bad.” Since the monthly fee includes the use of one of Time-Warner’s modems I went to the local office and got one.
Everything has worked fine since, until last week. Thursday morning the connection as down, but with no time to investigate I left it for the evening. When I got home it was up and working. Then on Tuesday it went down again. This time my efforts failed to restore it. Unplugging the modem and cable for thirty seconds and then plugging it back in failed to restore a connection.
The call to technical support seemed to indicate that the modem was bad. Again. I was out of town Tuesday evening, and so it was yesterday before I picked up a new modem from the cable store. The new modem worked flawlessly for about ninety minutes.
Calling support was not satisfactory as they now feel it is a problem with the line. I have a service call schedule for Friday morning between 8 am and 11 am. The technician was not amused when I inquired as to where to send my bill for lost time at work.
Needless to say, my broadband connection has worked flawlessly since calling support and getting the appointment for Friday setup.
Nekko continues to look and act like normal this week. The change in her demeanor from just a week ago is tremendous. The trick now is to manage her medications so that she can stay healthy.
Giving her an insulin shot is relatively easy. Last night instead of picking her up to do it I reached down to where she was laying on the floor and petted her for a minute or so, and then gave her the injection. She didn’t even twitch. Far less stress and aggravation for both of us that way.
The pills she needs to take are another matter altogether. On Sunday I was successful in getting all three down her at more or less the right times. After the evening round of pills she stayed as far away from me in the apartment as she could get. Monday morning she didn’t let me get near her, so I wasn’t able to do either the insulin or her pills.
My fear is that suffering the indignity of the pills will drive her away from me all the time. She was never the most social cat, and has always acted a little wary of me. That I now occasionally scoop her up and force her to swallow pills isn’t going to help that dynamic. The consequence of not giving her the heart medicine is a gradual decline in her health and eventually death. Giving her medicine will keep her alive longer, but with an altered relationship between us. I’m hopeful that over time she become less upset at having to take a pill - especially when I am down to the long-term, once a day routine. (At present she is supposed to be getting Amoxicillin twice a day. This will end after 10 days or 20 pills - which ever takes longer.)
I recognize that the staff in a vet’s office don’t have the emotional attachment to my cat that I possess, and therefore it is easier for them to be matter-of-fact about prying her mouth open and giving her a pill. Hopefully I won’t have to resort to developing that kind of detachment in order to be successful with Nekko’s care.
The next time you are in your local grocery store, head on over to the back of the produce section, where they keep the potatoes. Grab, all at once, seven five-pound bags of any kind of potato.
Yes, seven five-pound bags.
That is how much weight I’ve lost since the beginning of June. To say thirty-five pounds seems like a lot. To actually hold it in your hands is an entirely different understanding. Finger strength notwithstanding, trying to carry through the store thirty-five pounds of potatoes is not easy. It’s no wonder that my knees hurt and I was short of breath going up stairs.
One habit, dare I say, tradition, when traveling by plane is to buy a cheesy paperback in the first airport and tote it around for the duration of the trip. My recent vacation to Oregon was no exception as I bought, and read, Tyrannosaur Canyon by Douglas Preston. As vacation fodder goes it was pretty good.
Rating: Light, fast-paced, and thick enough to last five days.
Yesterday afternoon I was able to pick Nekko up at the hospital and bring her home. Before leaving the hospital I was given a chance to practice injecting her with saline solution, and I got to observe how a pill should be administered.
The injections are going to be easy. The needle is amazingly fine, and at only 2 units of insulin per shot hardly any fluid goes under her skin. She didn’t react at all to the practice shot yesterday or the first one I gave her this morning. My fears about the shot, which had ballooned into visions of a blowgun, appear to have been unfounded.
The pills on the other hand are going to be a bitch. She is on Dilacor, a human heart medicine, once a day. The medicine comes in a large capsule that can be pulled apart leaving four caplets behind. With a pill cutter I slice each of these in half and give Nekko one (30mg) dosage every day. Yeah, right. And for the next ten days she is supposed to get Amoxicillin twice a day. Sure thing.
Mostly what we have accomplished pill wise is educating me on just how long a cat is willing to hold a pill in its mouth. Even after a full minute holding her mouth shut and praising her for taking her pill, it magically reappeared on the carpet seconds after I set her down. Thus far Nekko is winning the pill contest 4-0. But I’m on the insulin scoreboard where the score is Nekko 0, Me 1. Ha.
By the way, pet stays in the animal hospital are hugely expensive. Can you say eighteen hundred and eighty dollars and ninety-three cents? For three days? She’s worth it to me, but still.
After much deliberation and a couple of relatively sleepless nights, I’ve decided to continue Nekko’s treatment and bring her home.
It was pointed out to me that one of my options was permanent and the other wasn’t. That was a huge factor in the choice to continue. My significant other said that she is willing to work with me to help Nekko, and willing to work at our relationship within the new parameters Nekko’s illness imposes. To use her words, “we can have a relationship and a diabetic cat.” A ray of sunshine in an otherwise cloudy week.
This afternoon I should get the call saying she has been released and can go home. At that time I’ll get instruction on making the injections and giving her the heart pill. It’ll be an adventure. Ha ha ha.
I’m going to ask at the hospital if they have a list of nurses or technicians who want to make a little on the side - I’d like to have someone I could call to come and give Nekko her medicines if I wanted to be gone for a day or two. With an 81-year old father who has three different doctors who all want to perform surgery on him, soon, I’m going to need to go to Illinois some this fall and winter too. Without someone lined up an emergency would just spiral out of control.
I am cautiously optimistic that in a few days my life with have settled back into something approaching normal. Being out of my comfort zone with regards to Nekko this week has been exhausting emotionally and mentally. Once things subside to the normal level of chaos I’ll start to feel better.
In the computing world, at least on Microsoft products, the “undo” function is accessed by the CTRL-Z key combination. Undo is a powerful concept; one that unfortunately doesn’t exist in the real world.
The difference between bringing my cat home and not bringing her home is permanence. Once I make the choice not to assume responsibility for her treatment and care I can never undo that choice. I have to live with the consequences from that moment forward.
Bringing her home gives me time to see what it is like to care for her. Whether that situation lasts for a day, or a week, or a month, or years - it isn’t permanent. When (if) the responsibility of caring for her exceeds my ability and desire, then I can make the permanent choice.
Being an adult sucks sometimes.
The decision I am facing is a difficult one, there is no easy, clear-cut answer. There’s no easy clear-cut set of factors. Objectivity is impossible, and long term impact - regardless of the choice - will be profound.
My cat has diabetes and a heart murmur - both of with will require constant daily intervention upon my part if she is to live. The diabetes will require twice daily insulin injections. All the online literature I’ve read in the past couple of days indicates the treatment plan, like the cat, is individual. Some cats adapt to the new intrusions in their life and some don’t. Some don’t respond well to the insulin - their blood glucose levels never become stable and the caregiver spends a lot of time adjusting and reacting. The heart murmur will require one pill every day.
Both of these treatments will require that I capture my cat and hold her twice a day. Nekko isn’t that kind of cat. She has never liked to be held, and will hide in inaccessible places when she even suspects that someone wants to pick her up.
Fear: Trying to administer her treatment will cause her personality to change. She’ll run and hide from me as I will be the one making her take a pill every morning, and get shot twice daily.
My lifestyle will undergo a dramatic shift. Gone will be my ability to pack up and go at a moments notice. Even with prior planning I’ll have to hire a medical technician (or train someone) to come and give Nekko her pill and shots. After just starting to taste a fully engaged life again, losing control of it in this manner is almost more than I can bear.
Fear: I’ll resent Nekko for “taking away” my freedom. Consequently I’ll be rougher with her than necessary. The warm, loving relationship we’ve enjoyed thus far will be a distant memory.
In the past two months I have begun a relationship that I want to continue. It has become the focus of my life and has filled me with joy, wonder, and happiness. For reasons I am not going to elaborate on here, having to schedule my life around Nekko’s care alters the parameters that this relationship can take. It requires sacrifice on both our parts.
Fear: Adding a major stressor to a developing relationship is certainly a growth opportunity, it is also perilous.
The time when I’ll have to decide whether to assume the responsibility for keeping my cat alive, and accept the loss of freedom, and alterations to my personal life or to end her life is rapidly approaching.
I do not know what to do. I do not know how to make this choice. I am very sad.
The vet called at around midnight to inform me of the results of Nekko’s blood work. She has feline diabetes. Her body has entered a ketonic state, meaning that there are acids building up in her blood as a result of no insulin. She will be in the hospital for two to three days while they administer insulin and try to get her blood glucose level (BG) under control. Meanwhile I will have to undergo training on administering insulin and testing her blood to monitor BG.
( why does everyone and everything I love die? )
The site that is the most informative that I’ve found is Feline Diabetes. There is a particularly good page there for beginners. Sobering, but good.
In order for Nekko to live and have a good quality of life I will need to become an expert on BG in my cat. I’ll need to inject her (likely twice daily) with insulin, and prick her ear for a drop of blood to measure her blood glucose level. I won’t be able to go away unless I have expert, trusted care in place to perform these tasks for me. I love my cat dearly, but this is a huge, overwhelming thing to take in all at once.
Michele’s illness curtailed my activities and impacted my lifestyle. At times I was as much a prisoner of her illness as she was. That I am now faced with once again altering my lifestyle in support of one I love is almost more than I can bear to consider.
( how will I find the strength to do this? )
I have been through so much in the past couple of years. Getting the news that Nekko is ill, and will require constant care and attention in order to live, just knocked me flat on my back again. There is only one ray of sunshine in my life right now, and she is making the long drive here to be with me even as I write this.
I know that I am deserving of good, that I am a good man. I know that bad doesn’t seek one person out, that all of these tragedies and setbacks aren’t about me personally. But it is hard not to feel like someone has it in for me.