the cat's meow

Thank you to everyone who has inquired about Warren's progress this past week. He's doing much better. The protective collar is off for good, and his stitches come out tomorrow. He still has to take some yucky meds every day, but only for another week, and then he'll be down to just his maintenance dose of one drug. He's almost back to being himself. But I think he used up at least a couple lives in the process.

In other news, there isn't much other news. I've been perfecting my recipe for crispy chicken, working steadily, and enjoying my Star Trek DVDs. Since Thanksgiving has passed (and I'm still full from the Kerner's awesome gravy), I have shared my X-mess wish list with my family. The Twin Cities are hunkering down for our first big winter storm this weekend.

Song of the Day: "Sometimes It Takes Balls to be a Woman" by Elizabeth Cook. Too right.

sleeping it off

Warren rests after a hard day of . . . um . . . resting. He ate well this afternoon, tried to rid himself of the blue collar (which protects his stitches from Wednesday's exploratory surgery), and held me in a snugglelock from which it took an hour to escape.

. . . and out

If ever diarrhea could be considered a welcome sight, Warren has made me very happy today.

My poor kitty started the day off right, with another visit to the vet when his feeding tube started acting less like a tube and more like 494 during rush hour: inexcusably blocked. I asked the vet to remove the tube rather than reinsert it again, as Warren had shown some interest in regular food earlier. When we got home, he loved me fiercely: rubbing cheeks, bumping heads, making biscuits, and purring so hard his little body shook. I think he was glad to be rid of that tube.

Since he ate a little but not a lot, I squeezed some more liquid diet into his mouth via syringe. About half an hour later, one of the vet's predictions came true: that the liquid diet would produce feculence that made hog farm waste seem tame. Digestive tract motility: check. Thank goodness for feline tidiness; my cleanup radius was minimal.

I let Warren out of the office this afternoon, and he's resting on his favorite chair up in the warm warm bedroom. I'm going to try to leave him alone until it's time for his next meds. All I want is for him to be comfortable. And maybe just a little more continent.

in & out

I brought Warren and his five meds and his feeding tube and his protective clown collar home from the U of M animal hospital today. When I opened his crate in the bedroom, he crept out cautiously, then came to give me affectionate head bumps. Then he promptly sneezed out his feeding tube.

I cuddled him on my lap for a while, weeping as he purred.

Then I put him back in the crate and hauled him to the local vet to have the tube replaced. He'll be sedated for the procedure, so it's another few hours before I bring him home again.

I don't think either of us can take too much more of this.

the Warren report

My kitty Warren has been knocking on heaven's door for the past week, and I haven't been blogging because I've been worried sick about him and barely able to talk about the situation without bursting into tears. But after numerous X-rays, an ultrasound, exploratory surgery, and several nights in a feline ICU, he's turning a corner. I finally get to bring him home tomorrow.

The bad news is, Warren has lymphoma, which is a cancer of the white blood cells. The good news is, it's the kind that's treatable with steroids, and we should have a couple more good years together.

Because of the inflammation caused by the cancer cells and a touch of irritable bowel disease, he's not eating on his own yet, so for a few days, I'll be feeding him a liquid diet through a tube down his nose. Gross! But, the vet assures me, very doable.

After waiting ALL DAY and finishing every scrap of work I had to distract myself, I finally got the call about half an hour ago. I'm so
relieved, I think I might throw up.

Sprite and I will finish out the evening with a few episodes of Star Trek and Buffy. And I might finally eat something myself (not through my nose).

tell me where to go

I'm planning to get out of town for a few days over Turkey weekend, but I haven't decided yet where to go. Recommendations?

ALEX WINS

Today I learned that my friend Alex has officially kicked cancer's ass.

WOOOO!

got poop?

So I'm at the gym this morning, sweating it up on the elliptical machine, listening to my GOYA playlist on the 'Pod and glancing from TV to TV as I glide along. On one of the screens, up comes a commercial for some kind of bran cereal. The spokesmodel is a mature man in a hard hat, apparently enjoying his breakfast on a construction site — and in the background, pieces of heavy equipment take giant dumps all around him. One after another, they relieve themselves of their loads. Our man grins insanely, secure in the knowledge that he will soon do the same.

And the Clio for Best Defecation Imagery in Food Promotion goes to . . .

OMG the cuteness!!!

Living room facelift!

I wanted to get rid of that old brown buffet and the mirror that hung above it for two reasons:

1. I acquired them with my ex. They'd hung around long enough.

2. I wanted to replace them with something classier. Like the Kiva bookcase unit from Room & Board:

Fantastic, right? Here it is fully loaded with my stuff:

Photos, books, thingamabobs, the Kiva holds it all. The brown boxes (from Target) contain, from top to bottom, my good china, candles and candle paraphrenalia, and CDs. I couldn't be happier.

In addition to deploying the mighty Kiva today, I also:

• got the Subarushi's left blinker fixed
  
• made great progress on a writing project, an editing project, and two interviews
  
• did the grocery shopping
  
• cleaned and vacuumed the entire house, including the stairs (company's coming)
  
• baked a lasagna
  
• watched one of the lesser episodes from season 2 of ST:TNG
  

Do Fridays rock or what?

Note on the photos: They're from my iPhone because Blogger didn't feel like uploading the other ones today. Stupid Blogger.