Ernie
A few days ago I mentioned something about Ernie acting kind of off. It started last Thursday -- all of a sudden he went from being a kitten to ... not acting kittenish at all. He was really lethargic and didn't eat all weekend. Monday morning was the first morning since I've had him where he didn't sit on my lap to gnaw on my hair while I combed it after showering. That was really alarming.
I took him to the vet yesterday morning. They took a few X-rays and found that he had a massive build-up of fluid around his heart, so much so that they couldn't even see the heart. They told me that I needed to take him to a specialist immediately since the pus area was so massive it was compressing his lungs, making breathing very difficult for him.
Since the only internal medicine specialist for small animals is in Sarasota, I picked up Foxy and the three of us drove up. It was an unnerving drive; the look on the vet's face when she looked for his heartbeat -- with two different stethoscopes because she couldn't hear the beat through the fluid -- distressed me.
The specialist immediately did an ultrasound on Ernie and extracted some of the fluid (10 syringes full in five minutes) to examine it. It turned out to be pus surrounding his heart from some unexplained infection. It's very unusual to have an indoor cat (like mine) to have such an infection; it could have been a pre-existing condition, for all we know.
The specialist presented me with a few options and called my vet at home for me so I could get her take, too. The best option seemed to be to leave Ernie overnight to allow the specialist to aggressively tap the pus area and bombard it with saline and antibiotics to break it up so that she could use tubes to suck all the junk out. Since my parents live closer to Sarasota than I do, after saying goodnight to Ernie, I just headed further north, so I could stay with them for the night. The vet was going to call me after tapping the pus that night and this morning.
I was walking Foxy with my mom this morning when the specialist called. By this time I hadn't eaten since Sunday (still haven't eaten) and I'd been up since 3am, thinking about Ernie. I got a lot (definitely not all) of my crying out in the Sarasota clinic parking lot yesterday and also as I drove to my parents' house. I knew. I knew there had been a reason that I wrote my ode to Ernie post last week (although I do have to say that I'm a little leery about writing posts about Foxy and Hef now). And I knew this situation wasn't going to turn out how I wanted it to.
The specialist said that the pus had a cottage-cheese-like consistency the closer she got to his heart. This consistency made it very difficult to extract as it kept clogging the tubes. The only other option would be to intubate him, so that he wouldn't be breathing on his own, and surgically go in there and remove the pus. Even then, there's no reason why the pus wouldn't come back, so it could be an ongoing thing. And he would have to be hooked up to the breathing machine for at least two weeks.
The specialist did not recommend that option; she didn't think he would pull through it. As for me, I didn't want to do that to Ernie. It just sounded like a lot of stress. I think if he could talk he would ask me not to do that to him, too.
So, this morning at 11:30 I made it back to Sarasota so that I could be with him as he was put to sleep. When I walked in with the vet, Ernie got a little pissy -- probably because the vet had been coming after him with tubes and syringes all night and all morning. He calmed down, though, when he figured out who I was. He always liked to have his cheeks rubbed, so I did that as the vet administered the injection. I watched his tail; that was one of the funny things about Ernie -- his tail was always twitching. Soon the twitching got slower, and his head drooped a little in my hands, but he still pushed his head into my palm as he always did when I pet him. Then he let out a big breath and his tail ceased twitching. And that was all.
Getting mentally prepared to go do this was much worse than actually doing it. Don't get me wrong -- it was horribly sad, and I cried then, just as did yesterday and as I am now. I'm so glad he didn't have to go this alone, though.
A week ago, I had a normal kitten. That's one of the more upsetting, confusing things about this situation: he was so young and this happened so fast. I just feel like I've been kicked in the stomach non-stop for the past two days.
I'm going to miss him so much. He was such a good cat.
I took him to the vet yesterday morning. They took a few X-rays and found that he had a massive build-up of fluid around his heart, so much so that they couldn't even see the heart. They told me that I needed to take him to a specialist immediately since the pus area was so massive it was compressing his lungs, making breathing very difficult for him.
Since the only internal medicine specialist for small animals is in Sarasota, I picked up Foxy and the three of us drove up. It was an unnerving drive; the look on the vet's face when she looked for his heartbeat -- with two different stethoscopes because she couldn't hear the beat through the fluid -- distressed me.
The specialist immediately did an ultrasound on Ernie and extracted some of the fluid (10 syringes full in five minutes) to examine it. It turned out to be pus surrounding his heart from some unexplained infection. It's very unusual to have an indoor cat (like mine) to have such an infection; it could have been a pre-existing condition, for all we know.
The specialist presented me with a few options and called my vet at home for me so I could get her take, too. The best option seemed to be to leave Ernie overnight to allow the specialist to aggressively tap the pus area and bombard it with saline and antibiotics to break it up so that she could use tubes to suck all the junk out. Since my parents live closer to Sarasota than I do, after saying goodnight to Ernie, I just headed further north, so I could stay with them for the night. The vet was going to call me after tapping the pus that night and this morning.
I was walking Foxy with my mom this morning when the specialist called. By this time I hadn't eaten since Sunday (still haven't eaten) and I'd been up since 3am, thinking about Ernie. I got a lot (definitely not all) of my crying out in the Sarasota clinic parking lot yesterday and also as I drove to my parents' house. I knew. I knew there had been a reason that I wrote my ode to Ernie post last week (although I do have to say that I'm a little leery about writing posts about Foxy and Hef now). And I knew this situation wasn't going to turn out how I wanted it to.
The specialist said that the pus had a cottage-cheese-like consistency the closer she got to his heart. This consistency made it very difficult to extract as it kept clogging the tubes. The only other option would be to intubate him, so that he wouldn't be breathing on his own, and surgically go in there and remove the pus. Even then, there's no reason why the pus wouldn't come back, so it could be an ongoing thing. And he would have to be hooked up to the breathing machine for at least two weeks.
The specialist did not recommend that option; she didn't think he would pull through it. As for me, I didn't want to do that to Ernie. It just sounded like a lot of stress. I think if he could talk he would ask me not to do that to him, too.
So, this morning at 11:30 I made it back to Sarasota so that I could be with him as he was put to sleep. When I walked in with the vet, Ernie got a little pissy -- probably because the vet had been coming after him with tubes and syringes all night and all morning. He calmed down, though, when he figured out who I was. He always liked to have his cheeks rubbed, so I did that as the vet administered the injection. I watched his tail; that was one of the funny things about Ernie -- his tail was always twitching. Soon the twitching got slower, and his head drooped a little in my hands, but he still pushed his head into my palm as he always did when I pet him. Then he let out a big breath and his tail ceased twitching. And that was all.
Getting mentally prepared to go do this was much worse than actually doing it. Don't get me wrong -- it was horribly sad, and I cried then, just as did yesterday and as I am now. I'm so glad he didn't have to go this alone, though.
A week ago, I had a normal kitten. That's one of the more upsetting, confusing things about this situation: he was so young and this happened so fast. I just feel like I've been kicked in the stomach non-stop for the past two days.
I'm going to miss him so much. He was such a good cat.
posted by BPDubs at 5:38 PM
1 Comments:
i am so so sorry.
Post a Comment
<< Home