like a timex

The cat continues to amaze me. Last week, I was convinced she wouldn't make it to her appointment on Friday, but she did. (Sick as I was, I would have done what was necessary, but I preferred to be more present for her end.) This weekend, we had another mini-crisis, to which I applied what could have been a temporary fix.

The switch from infrequently-injected prednisone to a more-frequently administered liquid form has been bumpy. Mid last week, the first switchover (to liquid given twice a day) caused a real lurch. Things were looking grim as the injections wore off, but the new prednisone finally kicked in, and the cat was back on track.

This weekend, we were supposed to reduce the dose to once a day. At Friday's appointment, I expressed some real concerns about reducing the dose; it felt to me that Juliet was hanging on by just a thread. I was firmly told to give the dosing regimen a try, and to call if anything went wrong so we could discuss it. This was fine. Some things are important, and I figured this was one of them.

Of course, things went wrong on Saturday when the vet clinic was closed. Juliet hadn't eaten all day. She certainly wasn't purring; she was barely reacting to us when we petted her. She was limp and passive. I couldn't stand it any more. Out of desperation, in the evening, I gave her a second dose of prednisone just in case that was the problem. And... she responded. She started eating and purring. She regained some strength.

I gave her another second dose Sunday night and then wrote a long note to Dr. Randy and faxed it over this morning. I think I was agitated because the message had been so clear, and I want very much not to be in conflict about Juliet's treatment. In my note, I proposed a few compromises, said that I want everyone to be happy, but that my first priority is to do the right thing for Juliet.

This morning, Randy called and said that the solution is very simple -- to just give Juliet two doses a day (phew). He said that his main concern is that prednisone has long-term effects, either weeks or months down the road. My belief, and I think his, too, is that we probably don't even have weeks to be worried about.

So another crisis averted. Juliet is eating heartily. Between snacks, she rests comfortably on my heated bed. If I'm around, I cover her up with a little green towel. She looks very cute with her little head poking out.