Cats Are Assholes

Seriously, cats are pushy, demanding, stubborn little jerks. My two baby boys have been getting mani-pedis since the time they moved in with us and all of a sudden they have decided they want nothing to do with the vet or the vet techs. A few months ago when they went for their regular monthly visit, Rollins decided he was done with nail trims, swatted at the vet tech and screamed bloody murder. I actually heard the little devil hiss for the first time when the tech tried to remove him from his carrier. They sent us home with drugs to sedate him and the next day they clipped his little razors while he tried to swing at the techs in slow motion.

When the time came for their annual exams the following month, we were directed to drug up both cats prior to the visit. The problem with this is big brother Milo is smart enough to know when he is being set up. Both cats reluctantly ate the drugs the night before and Milo slept so hard he didn’t even notice Rollins trying to rip his ears off in the middle of the night. The following morning we had to shoot the medication down their throats with a syringe after they refused even their favorite tuna water laced with sedatives. Two hours later Milo was able to complete his appointment unphased, while Rollins was still swinging away like a prize fighter. The vet explained that his anxiety had temporarily overridden the medication which proved accurate when we got him home and was so high he toppled over head first into his water fountain. Back to the drawing board.

We were instructed to purchase a soft-sided carrier with multiple points of access and sent home with a new, stronger sedative for the next week. When appointment day arrived I fed Rollins his sedative laced food and waited an hour for him to start getting sloppy. When he still had the zoomies, I gave him a second dose and watched him zone out in his cat tree. When we arrived at the vet he was thoroughly stoned and ready to go… until they brought him in the procedure room. For about a half hour I waited in the empty exam room listening to the entire staff of the vet practice laugh in the back room. When they finally returned my little demon to the exam room, I was informed that he remained awake for 15 minutes after being injected with the drug that should have knocked him out immediately. They were able to draw his blood and give him all of his vaccines while awake but sedate. As soon as they had completed their work, he passed out. Once again, adrenaline overrode the sedatives but he eventually succumbed to the medication. When we brought him home, all of the drugs kicked in and he toppled into his food, did a header into the cabinets and passed out on a blanket on the floor. I had to carry him down to the litter box so he wouldn’t wet the bed.

Since knocking the cats out every month for trims is not an option, we are finally going to learn how to clip the boys’ nails at home. We have been able to successfully sedate Milo and take care of his claws while he slept, but Rollins has been a little challenging. I have a feeling nobody is going to come out of this process unscathed.

*I wrote this while listening to Christmas music. It’s December!

 

Touch Me I’m Sick

The medical industry needs some work. I spent two years in pain and thousands upon thousands of dollars while doctors shrugged their shoulders and passed me off to the next doctor before a test for an unrelated issue revealed two boulders in my kidneys. I had cameras shoved in every orifice looking for the source of the pain in my side that doubled me over before a CT scan on my intestines showed giant stones in both kidneys, one of which was completely blocking the passage of fluid and shutting down functioning. No wonder I felt like shit for two straight years.

Of course once I knew the stones were there, it was all I could feel. I had visions of peeing out a slab of granite in the middle of my work day while pretending my insides weren’t turning into jelly. It took two trips to the ER, three trips to the OR and a half dozen office visits to remove one stone only to find out the other one was shrinking itself and being reabsorbed into my body. During one of the office visits, an old, white, male doctor told me I wasn’t in pain after pulling a 3″ long tube through my urethra. I thought I misheard him until he said “the stent is out, the pain is gone”. I didn’t think I would ever have to explain to an old man the concept of body kinesthesia, but apparently I did, so I did explain. I pointed at him and said “No. That is your body” then pointed to myself and slowly said “and this is my body. I am telling you that THIS body is still in pain. I understand that the pain will dissipate, but am asking what to do now, while I am still in pain”. When he tried to respond I stopped him and said “you know what, never mind. We are done here. I won’t be needing a follow up appointment with you”. I went home and slept for 5 hours straight at 11am due to the pain I was NOT in. When I woke up, I found a female Urologist to follow up with.

During the last few years while I have been navigating this situation, I have learned a few things. Emergency rooms are a waste of time unless you are attempting to score drugs or something is broken. They specialize in nothing, so do not want to perform anything other than run tests to send off to a specialist three weeks later. During my first trip to the ER, they gave me Flomax to “make it easier for the stones to pass” after being told the stones were more than double the size of passable. During the second trip, they attempted to give me the pain medication I am allergic to. They proceeded to run the same tests repeatedly just to prove they were doing something. My insurance promptly responded to the bills for these tests demanding that I explain why they were necessary.

More importantly I learned that if you do not advocate for yourself, shit is not going to get done. Doctors do not believe women are in pain. I saw multiple specialists before I was properly diagnosed for a fairly common ailment, and it was an accident that I was even diagnosed. The doctor who ordered the test blew me off once he learned that my problem was in my kidneys and not my stomach. Instead of referring me to a proper Urologist, he sent me on my way with the yellow pages. The test that found the stones was the fifth test that doctor ordered in 18 months. I literally had to jump up and down to get that test while all of my doctors shrugged their shoulders and sent me to the next one in line. My left kidney was barely functioning and all of these doctors were blaming menopause. All of these male doctors were blaming menopause.

The good news is I hit both my deductible and out of pocket max for my insurance before the end of the first quarter so I am seeing every doctor and running every test I can think of by the end of the year just to make sure there are no other parts of my body on strike or ready to fall off. Maybe I will finally find out what exactly causes me to sneeze uncontrollably every morning and why my knees sound like popcorn popping every time I squat. I am also able to see my chiropractor monthly and have preventative tests on my heart and lungs. Maybe I can also have this silver lining assessed since I seem to keep finding it. 

Danger Kitty

I’m pretty sure my youngest cat is trying to off himself. Although I have to wonder if cats possess the cognitive ability to have suicidal ideation, the drama queen in me says I need to immediately search for a kitten therapist. I think he might low-key hate himself for what an asshole he is to his big brother on a daily basis. Or maybe he is just like a little teenager running at full speed without a thought about where he’ll end up. I feel like every week I have to save this little daredevil from himself. Between untangling him from various cords and twine, and literally talking him off ledges, my hands are full babysitting a one year old cat.

This all started a few months ago when I found him hanging off his cat tree with the cord for the blinds wrapped around his neck. I thought it may have been an accident but when i untangled him, he immediately dove back in and tightened the make-shift noose. This continued for days until I wrapped the cord around the curtain rod, taking it out of his reach.

Shortly after his first hanging attempt, psycho kitty began walking on the outside of the banisters on the staircase and the hallway above the family room. Daily, he stands above us meowing and lunging toward the edge. I have had to pull him back from the edge by his tail on more than one occasion and I am fairly certain it is only a matter of time before he takes a leap onto the couch. He has been testing his jumping skills as well by flinging himself from the top of his cat tree to a curtain rod that is nine feet above the ground. The first time he did this, I tried to rescue him from falling, but he dove over me back into a cat bed five feet below him. He has continued to practice his tight rope walking skills while meowing for me to come watch like a toddler.

After hanging and jumping failed, he moved on to choking and poisoning. This cat doesn’t sniff and lick things before swallowing them whole, he just goes for it. A week ago I heard him barfing up something in the kitchen and ended up having to chase him to yank a giant piece of twine that was hanging from his mouth. As I pulled, a knotted ball of black twine came straight out of his throat followed by a puddle of saliva. A foot away was a tangle of beige twine the size of a peach. I don’t even know where he would have found twine, but he gets into cabinets and drawers by himself with ease. In between trying to strangle his own intestines, he is scarfing down the two plants in the house that could kill him. He literally leaves every other plant other than the two poisonous ones alone. He’s like a moth to a flame with lilies. Even when I move the plants out of his reach, ninja cat finds a way to get to them.

I was trying not to read too much into these behaviors, but this cat is either suicidal or stupid, and he has proven to be far too clever to be stupid. In fact, he is so clever that he stares right at me while doing something he knows he shouldn’t be. Maybe he is like a little teenager, believing he is invincible. Just in case he does have suicidal tendencies, I have been whispering positive affirmations in his ear in the morning and cuddling him. Every morning he hears “you are loved and lovable, you are worthy of your perch, you are impeccably groomed, you are worthy of all the treats…” If Brody hadn’t already turned e into a crazy cat lady, Rollins most certainly has.

*I wrote this mostly while listening to Sinead O’Connor after reading her memoir over the weekend.

Pump Up the Volume

My family doesn’t eat fast food often. We eat it so infrequently that when I do drive through a drive-thru I become paralyzed with confusion. My family finds this hilarious, and therefore, try to send me out for burgers and fries as often as possible.

A few weeks ago they somehow managed to persuade me to pick up tacos and I almost had a panic attack trying to order. Somehow since the last time I drove through a Taco Bell the menu has expanded tenfold. I drove up to the menu board and almost started crying based on the sheer number of selections. When asked for my order I panicked and started yelling out numbers like an auctioneer. The volume of my voice increased with each additional question. By the time I was done, my daughter had tears coming down her face and was yelling “SPRITE!” and “CRUNCHY!” from beside me. When we got home I didn’t even know what I ordered or how I spent $50 in a drive thru. I would like to say this is one of those times where I perform a task poorly so I am never asked to perform that task again, but alas, it is not. You really can’t take me out in public.

Better Things

It’s been a year. We’ve had a little good, a little bad, and everything in between. It’s been a year of change overall. Our address changed, my husband’s job changed, my daughter’s health changed, and even the pets in our home changed. We started new traditions, created new habits and set new goals. I will probably feel differently when I actually have time to reflect but I feel like I just fell out of the washing machine most days after a long tumble. I think I remember the highlights, but it could have mostly been a dream.

January – I spent the month learning how to keep the books for a basketball team which was all kinds of ridiculous for someone who doesn’t even know how many players are supposed to be on the court at once.

February – I spent the month driving my kid to rehearsals for a play, doing tax returns and sitting in a sauna while feeling sick all month.

March – I took my first girls’ trip with three tweens for my mini-me’s birthday. And holy shit, my kid turned 12.

April – We rediscovered the Wi after my parents’ basement flooded and learned to play video games all over again. Saw David Sedaris, Bikini Kill and my kid playing tennis for the first time on a team.

May – I’m fairly certain I spent the entre month talking to teenagers before going to Las Vegas to watch punk rock bands for three days. It may have been the best month of the year!

June – If May was the best month, June was the worst. We lost our little baby boy Brody. I think he was the best cat I have ever had in my life. We also gained a kitten since Milo was heartbroken and needed a companion to help him heal. I think I have been cleaning up messes since Rollins appeared. He is much like having a toddler… on crack. We also saw Paramore, The Circle Jerks and Descendents live, so maybe not the absolute worst month.

July – We spent a lot of the month out at the lake watching the kitten destroy the screens and attacking his big brother. Fireworks are always better on the lake! I also got a new record player for my birthday and have since spent a small fortune on vinyl.

August – We became homeless after selling our house without being able to find a new one after visiting 30 and making offers on half a dozen properties. I think my parents’ pool was finally re-opened after waiting 4 months for their inept contractor to wrap things up.

September – We bought a house! My kid started the 7th grade with her uniforms in boxes and was diagnosed with a neuropathic disorder after months of symptoms that I chalked up to anxiety. I feel a lot like my mom must have when she sent me to school with a broken rib because she thought I was faking (with good reason). 

October – My work schedule skyrocketed while my husband started spending more time at home. I feel like I came home one day and my house was full of artwork after my husband got to work in his new studio. We learned that we don’t get any kids trick-or-treating on our street after I bought a literal pallet of candy bars so I stress ate all of them by myself.

November – Every day was Groundhog’s Day… and I’m pretty sure my kid was in a play.

December – I brought out my firehose of glitter and decorated the new house. We had a party, opened too many Christmas gifts and planned for a handful of concerts next year. December has always been one of my favorite months and I spend most of it planning family activities and ways to give back to the world. This year was no exception, but I may have half-assed it a little. Such is life.

It’s hard to believe that the year is over. If 2023 was the year of change, I hope 2024 is the year of peace. 

**I bought some vinyl in August that arrived at our old house in December. Maybe I’ll have time to listen to it by February. In the meantime I streamed it while writing this recap of the year.

I’m Not a Loser

I love when you walk into a space and find your people. I do it a lot at punk shows, church basements and a little book store that sells mental health books. My kid did it last night at a restaurant in town. We sat down at our table and our waitress immediately asked her about a shirt she was wearing and then started speaking a language that my therapist/mom brain could not comprehend. It was apparently Japanese because they were talking about 7,000 anime shows and manga graphic novels that they were both familiar with. Every time the waitress came back to our table she stopped and chatted with my daughter for a few minutes.

During the dinner my daughter mentioned what a great waitress she was and when she stopped back my mother-in-law made her stay with us for a few more minutes so my daughter could tell her what a fantastic server she was and how enjoyable she made our dinner. You would have to know my mother-in-law to understand just how common it is for her to strike up a conversation with a server or cashier, but she is a people person and she makes friends everywhere she goes. If there was an extra chair at the table she probably would have asked the waitress to sit down and she would have finished her shift while she chatted with my kiddo. I actually would have found this very entertaining to watch my socially awkward husband try to manage that interaction. As it turns out, the waitress also has social anxiety and she told us this after she received the compliment about her serving skills. She also showed my daughter photos of her in multiple cosplay costumes which about sent my daughter over the edge since my daughter spends much of her time cosplaying and making videos in her bedroom.

When the waitress showed her a photo of herself dressed as Velma from Scooby Doo at a cosplay convention I thought I was going to have to clean out the guest room for this young woman to move in. My daughter dressed like Velma for a full year between the ages of 3 and 4, including the glasses. She wouldn’t answer to anything but her stage name and chose a Christmas ornament with the name Velma that still hangs on our tree 8 years later. I guess I should have seen this whole cosplay thing coming way back then. While other girls dressed as princesses, my child wanted to be the nerdy girls and villains. By the time she was 5, she was wearing her Hogwarts uniform to the grocery store and casting spells on shoppers in the produce department.

When you are the cosplaying, artsy punk rock kid it’s not easy to find your people at school. Especially when you attend a small Catholic girls school. She has a friend in 10th grade that cosplays and the two occasionally go to the local roller rink where they are treated like royalty for being their freaky little selves, but I hear about how this older friend is literally tortured by half of the school for her individuality, including girls much younger than her. A few weeks ago a couple of 8th grade bullies had the poor girl in tears while they ridiculed her and a group of the girls in my daughter’s class chased her down the hall videotaping her for “fun”. These are the same girls who keep walking up to my kid asking her to show them some dance that she did in a cosplay video. I told her she needed to tell them to watch her YouTube video if they wanted to see it again and when she did she got the satisfaction of watching their jaws hit the floor while they questioned how she had 17,000 views on a video. It’s kind of ironic that the same girls are begging people to like their photos and videos and my kid doesn’t want kids from school to even see her photos, but they all follow her. She likes what she likes, and she does what she wants without much thought about what other people think. She blows my mind with her DIY spirit. I think we have a new punk rock queen in the house.

**In honor of my little riottt girl, I listened to Bikini Kill.

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