further adventures of a sick kitty

Juliet's googly eye almost got better. But then it started looking worse, at first so little that I thought I was imagining things or that perhaps the healing was just slowing down. But yesterday, I was home sick, and things just didn't look right, so in we went to the vet.

And it turns out that it's not the advancing tumor, as I had feared, but a small case of conjunctivitis. We started her on what looks to be the veterinary equivalent of opthalmic neosporin and she's responding nicely.

While at the vet, we gave her an acupuncture treatment, this time with some twists. There's a technique called moxa, where you insert the needles and then heat them until just before they're uncomfortable. So you're delivering heat directly into the acupuncture points. Afterwards, Dr. Randy also gave J some aquapuncture, where he injected a liquid (containing vitamins, and perhaps other goodies) directly into a few of her less sensitive acupuncture points.
At the end, I had a totally relaxed kitty who purred and purred for a long time.

(Incidentally, I finally asked for a referral for moi and now have an appointment with a human acupuncturist; it's time to take the next step on some arthritic spots that I haven't quite been able to conquer using my traditional methods of exercises and braces.)

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I talked to Dr. Randy about wanting to keep Juliet around as long as I can while keeping her comfortable and happy. At times, it seems like a hard balance to achieve. He did say that I've done a good job so far of striking that balance, but I think that most recently, all compliments go to him.

For a little more than a year now, we've been adding treatments to her regimen, starting with regular hydration, that are perhaps slightly uncomfortable or a little unpleasant in the moment, but that are good for her in the long run. We've included twice-daily medications, and now goop in her eyes three times a day. She weathers all this with good humor, much grace, and perhaps some small understanding that we are acting with good intentions.

Yesterday, I was given an immune-boosting powder to add into the meds. Dr. R doesn't have the appropriate measuring devices yet, so told me that I'm on my own with it. I tried giving it to her twice with awful results. I'm at a bit of a loss of how to measure .3 ml of a thick liquid with 1/8 teaspoon of a powder and deliver the whole thing into a small cat. So I tried mixing it with water the first time and with water and the sticky liquid the second.

Apparently, it tastes putrid, at least to kitties, though it smells kind of nice to me. Then again, this link implies that humans also struggle with the taste.

The first time I gave it to her, she swallowed it, I left the room, and I came back to find little piles of wet yellow blobs and enormous amounts of white foam around the living room. The second time, she started foaming before I finished delivering the stuff. I quickly picked her up and held her over the sink for ten minutes while she gagged and foamed and basically spit up an entire evening's worth of medicine.

As if I wasn't feeling bad enough already, Robert said, "if she's a short-timer, why are you even bothering to give her that stuff?" He was right, of course. Sometimes I go in with the best intentions in the world, and I end up with a disaster anyways. And "But I meant well, and I'm so terribly sorry" just doesn't cut it.

This morning, she saw me coming and made every effort to avoid me. I just gave her the regular meds and left the powder out of the discussion. I have a call into the vet to get a week's worth put together into a more palatable form, if that's possible, and if we can't do it, well, we'll just drop it, alas.