Oh CRIPES

Maccy has lymphoma. This is a very treatable cancer in cats. We have the option, if he's well enough from the peritonitis, to try a dose of chemo on Friday and see if it shrinks the cancer and thereby helps him feel better. The vets are quite keen to give it a go, they are confident that it's a good move. But when we visited our boy today, he was a bit brighter but tired very quickly and just wanted to be left alone. This is not behaviour we see in him unless something is very wrong.

We had to discuss all the possible options, talking frankly about quality of life and when it's right to decide to stop the suffering. It's the last thing we can do for our pets, take away any suffering and let them go to sleep. We've had to make this choice twice before, with Amy and then a year later with her daughter, Petunia. It was to some extent easier both those times, because both old girls had fatal conditions with no hope of reprieve. They had both clearly come to the end of their physical capacity to eat or socialise, leaving only lying around waiting for death. It was pretty horrible but also quite clear that letting them go to sleep was right, and right now.

Maccy might not be well enough for chemo; the peritonitis may not clear up enough. He's on pretty heavy meds, and after 3 days hasn't gained much ground. Without chemo he'll certainly die, and soon. The roll of the dice is whether a dose of chemo (which is administered with steroids) will immediately shrink the tumour and therefore make him feel a lot better. Reduce the pain, let his digestive system work properly, give him back his appetite. If it does, we are then on a merry-go-round of weekly or twice-weekly visits to the vet for monitoring and further chemo. This means lots more of the much-hated car trips. He's never been a happy traveller, and I'm loathe to inflict more of that on him. But is it fair to let him go without trying? I don't know.

He's been such an important part of my life, and my family's life, for 12 years. He's a very gorgeous boy, a loving purrsonality who has roamed the neighbourhood making friends for years. When we started having to keep him inside, and take him for walks on his lead, we began to find all the other homes he'd (easily) made his own. Friends who live a few blocks away who welcomed him as their own. The woman who had morning coffee with him on her porch. Several families whose young children loved his visits. Grandpa up the road who missed Maccy coming for afternoon naps. Neighbours over the road whose grandkids would come to the gate and call him out, then take him over and feed him catnip and pat him til he went all soft and purry - and came home with the munchies!

And there were the people he developed a yen for, and where we could reliably find him in the evening when we wanted him to come home - various group households around the place where the residents could be seen rushing to let him out when they heard us calling! Our next-door neighbours, both families who've lived there; the first who allowed him to live inside and out as he pleased, often bonding with Toby (both boys snoozing on the bed together); later our new neighbours who looked forward to morning coffee with Maccy on the deck. For a while when we first started walking Maccy on his lead, he always went in to see if Mr Nexdor was there, and had a little drink from their fishpond.

Now he has every staff member at the vet practice waiting on him - hand-feeding, serial cuddling, constant checks to see that he's comfortable, every encouragement to get better and carry on being, as St Michael the head vet put it, 'the purrfect cat'. I don't know ... over the last few years he's had a number of very nasty illnesses, the worst being three weeks of hell when he suffered major bowel inflammation, and cat flu. We were lucky to save him that time. Maybe the poor old puss has just done his dash. He's dispensed uncritical love and furriness all his life, provided deep pleasure and comfort to so many people. He's soaked up my tears, gobbled up my catering, decorated our home and our garden, tolerated that pesky Little Miss Wendy when she first moved in and tried to run him off the premises. He's purred and purred, and lolled around in ungainly poses, and squikked and prrpd and mrowed his way through life, and made a damn fine job of it. We're all totally in thrall to him. Messages of love and sorrow for him have come literally from all over the world.

Light a candle for Maccy. Or eat a tin of tuna, or munch on a chicken bone. Sit in the sun and watch butterflies. Come and rub your head against my leg or sit pointedly in front of the fridge. Go to sleep on M's chair on the special blanky I crocheted. Hold him close and feel him purr. I can feel it now....

Cardie unravelling...

..our poor boy Maccy (seen here in his famous old black cardie pose) is most unwell. He picked up quickly from being irradiated with an iodine isotope (to kill the cancer causing his hyperthyroidism). He was frisky, hungry and oh so purry. Suddenly last Thursday he started going quiet, going off his food, being very sooky. We knew he was unwell but on the advice of St Libby, his personal veterinarian, we kept him in on the weekend and watched him closely. I was tempting him with bits of mush and sips of nice shower-bucket water, and lots and lots of cuddles. And watching him visibly lose weight, and go all scruffy, and want to sleep ON us not near us...

Today off to the vet. He has a high temp, a mass in his abdomen which wasn't clearly identified by an xray this afternoon. He's staying overnight on a drip for antibiotics, and having a pelvic ultrasound tomorrow to try to find out if it's a mangled kidney, a tumour, a mass of unmoving /ahem/ in the lower intestine, or what.

The vet was very worried, so we are too. After the consultation I distracted myself with three big crosswords, but my trip for a general checkup at my gp was a bit of a muddle, cos I coudn't concentrate on people things. Doc helped me by reading out my (extensive) list of meds so I could try to remember what I might need. I was tempted to say 'just give me a script for all of it' but that would be bloody expensive, apart from anything else! Anyway, I'm fine for now. As long as I have the little pink pill twice a day, I'm essentially ok apart from those dang sinuses playing up.

Please cross your paws and plait your whiskers in hope that darling Maccy gets very better very soon. Today brought to you by eau de puss, a lovely furry earthy smell unlike any other.

It's still hot. Now it's humid as well. We've had cracking great storms the last two nights, dumping great rain on the gardens, washing the birdsh off the car, and getting quite carried away making a huge hole in a new garden bed. Triffic. No watering by hand or bucket for several days. But sheesh, the humidity. The ultimate waah happened when I visited a friend (hi there Plummet-mummy!) who has evaporative aircon in her house. Kind of cooler, but sticky. The only downfall of evap aircon as far as I can tell. It was fine when we were blobbed on the couches, sucking back g + t and admiring the cats. But move and the great curtain of sweatiness descends... it's kind of uncool to have drips coming off your chin. And icky.

I cooked my ass off last week, entertaining house guests. There were amazing feats of ovening, grilling, salading, opening of bottles and eating; oh my, the eating! I'm glad I did it cos now we are happily making our way through some very good corned beef and some interesting salads. I amaze myself with what I can do if I don't think about it too much. The carrot salad was particularly good - grate carrot, apple and ginger. Mix with a bit of shredded coconut, a small slosh of balsamic vinegar, and the juice of a small ruby grapefruit. Nom.

But this is not really a recipe site, unless you count recipes for abstractions such as disaster, achieving serenity, the care and comforting of the furry feline, and how to garden without bending. Sometimes I alarm myself with the level of abstraction, but mostly I have part of one foot approximately in the same hemisphere as the ground....

I went shopping yesterday after Medicare paid me a nice lump sum. They were very generous, almost enough to make me forget the size of the bills I had to pay to get such a large return. I took me to the purrfume area of DJs, BAD ME. Of course I bought something. But but it were a bargain!!!! Three pocket sprays of 'Covet' for the price of one I tell you. On the strength of that I felt I could afford the sale price of small bottles of 'Angel', so now I have two. This is merely cautious pantry management principles being put to work on another kind of cupboard collection, ie as soon as one is close to running out, replace it. And gosh I could be left with an empty bottle at any time! I must be vigilant I tell you.

We won't discuss WHICH bottle, or point out that I have dozens, will we??

Today brought to you by M's birthday celebrations, hurray for him! And yum to the Thai dinner and pink champers. And yay for the birthday party tomorrow, there will be cake I tell you. I was going to be very organised and start tonight, but meh. I'm still hot, and the cooler in the bedroom is calling to me. I have a new edition of my fave magazine, several borrowed books to get thru (thanks to Shadow's-daddy and his joint collection!), one of M's xmas present books to attack, and at least 30 crosswords lined up for my delectation. You just don't know you're alive until you've delectated a crossword, trust me.

Today also brought to you by easy weeding after the rain; the pleasure of spending nearly a whole day in my silk nightie setting a new sloth record; Maccy looking equally pleased with hisself for excaping, and pissed-off for being founded and putted back inside; a serious drenching of 'Covet' for wearing out to dinner; and a strange sense of optimism.

View from the weekend..

Bumpy. Undulating? Definitely not smooth, anyway.

A friend had a bad fall and broke his hip; instant mayhem for the family. I hope he'll heal fast, completely and with added wisdom. Nasty events always have this potential!

My darling M has been very down today, after spending yesterday being wonderfully energetic and keeping ME going. He woke in the night saying he was feeling his age. Poor man. We decided that this meant today was an Official Sunday, thereby throwing all expectations to the winds and letting ourselves blob around, eat funny things at funny times, indulge each other, and play with the cats. The highlight of the day was watching a dvd of Claudio Abbado conducting the Berlin Phil in a lavishly gorgeous theatre in Sorrento. A wonderful purrformance of Dvorak's 'New World Symphony', with some rather pretentious doco-style ramblings about supposed influences on his composition. But the purrformance was masterful, and very well filmed. We enjoyed it very much, as we quietly removed a few more bits of fur-lump from Maccy, snorted our evening drinks down with posh chocolate, and tried very hard to get Wendy to come in from a storm. She turned up well after it was over, looking very pleased with herself. And very wet!

We've reconstructed my workroom as a spare bedroom (ie put a bed in there again), and M is now sacked out, safely tucked in away from my nocturnal/insomniac interruptions. I'm happily up the other end of the house (there's a lot to be said for long, rectangular houses), playing the Corrs, typing, arranging my 'art' teatowels on the bed (I can feel some hanging up coming on tomorrow), contemplating the Ikea delivery next weekend, thinking of sofa-hunting tomorrow, and considering the effect of a cheese sandwich before sleepytime. Trouble is, I want a cheese sandwich with LOTS of butter, and I'm sure my doc would shudder and point to my latest cholesterol level results. Dang.

I haven't made much of a start on this year yet, except to throw out the prescriptions from 2007 which are definitively out of date. I'm not trying for a resolution, cos I aint got any. Even moderate attempts at willpower are largely a failure. Going with the flow is easier, except I don't flow much, I'm more of a stasis girl. Oh well. There are some fun projects I could start on, easily completed, which would be satisfying. Like putting a hanging pocket on a sequinned and embroidered cloth, to hang behind our bed. Finishing putting polar fleece along the edge of our bedspread so the fringe doesn't tickle our noses. Sewing ditto to mum's HYOOG knitted blanky which is going to Germany to adorn the bed of my eldest niece. This one will have to be handsewn, and with temperatures aiming for 37 later this week, I'm not looking forward to having it in my lap! I might have to do a deal with the ironing board.. it can take the bulk and the weight, while I fiddle with the edge. We'll see. It might be one of those things which is massively attractive to the attentions of a cat. A cat which might think it's great fun to 'help'.

.... I should get my wobbly ass back to gym. And off to the pool for wading, which, dear readers, is THE exercise invented to fix your tight lower back. Goes like this: hop into the medium pool at Dickson, the one which is only 1.5m at the deepest end, is under shade-cloth, and is big enough to stride around. Stride around. Do this until you feel like a coffee. Go and get one - they're rather good at the cafe there - and resume striding around with your coffee in one hand. Fabbo. You can do all this without getting your hair wet, your self sunburnt, or endangering your caffeine level. Close to purrfect as a form of exercise don't you think?

Alice the Garden came today (delayed from last Tuesday when it was too hot). She does miracles every time. Today she put in the three large iceberg roses I was given before christmas. I've been keeping them alive in plastic bags... I hope they'll all thrive. We're happily planting prickly things all along part of our front fence, because late last year someone walking along there broke off most of my fruit tree saplings. Much grief, especially for the persimmon tree which was leaping towards the sun and looking very happy. Now it's only 2 feet tall. A nice thick row of high and rambling roses; boysenberries, raspberries, spiky grevilleas and anything else I can think of to add to the deterrent mix; a year or so of growing, and my trees will be quite safe. AND I hope all this will outgrow the bloody vinca, which is big fat nuisance all along the fence-line. As bad as ivy.

Alice's visits always leave me with lots of things to do in her wake. I can't dig the holes or cart the heavy bags of stuff around. But I'm a gun Seasol-er; I can plant wee things into the softer soil; and I can plan, oh how I can plan! I have many natives to go in, and my sis busy growing more from seed, the clever thing. When all my hakeas finally fall over, I'll have Canberra grown and hardened replacements all strong and healthy. Nice. I'll also have a very eclectic garden full of cape daisies and mint bush and boobialla and blue fescue and lavender and agapanthus and pigface and geraniums and seaside daisy... I think there's only one environmental weed in that list! I'll check... I've spent 10 years removing masses of the top ten enviro-weeds which were all rampant in this old garden. The huge piles of privet, honeysuckle, ivy, cotoneaster, vinca, wandering jew, ... well that's 6 out of 10. I know I had ten but it's too late to look up details. Trust me!

And now I see it is tomorrow and that cheese sammo is looking better and better. I guess I could go easy on the butter and add a bit of mustard... I will certainly be adding purrfume to the nocturnal mix. I have some Mugler 'Angel' which needs opening. The one I've been using in the last week is 'Lily Angel', a difference I didn't note until I saw bottles on display in a very dangerous shop in Manuka... a shop full of shiny things and discounted purrfume and beads and makeup and and and.. what with being under the influence of pancakes, being very relaxed, and knowing what was in my bank account, I had no chance did I?

Please send bone-knitting, garden-growing, headache-dispelling and sense-of-smell-in-full-opurrational-order vibes. They will all go to good homes. Send some dorter-patting too while you're at it, pats are always useful on dorters. Especially darling ones like mine.

My cattie..

.. is feeling better!! Add thyroid meds, and he's himself within half a day. Amazing. All he's done since we started meds is sleep, and be happy. Every now and then we see a black shadow stomping up to the kitchen for fud supplies; then he returns via a nice drink from the bucket in the shower to his preferred sleeping place - the carpet on my study floor. He lies against the door, paws all over the place, and sleeeeeeeeeps. Gorjuss.

That Other Cat is busy hunting buffaloes, committing atrocities under mrs nexdor's deck, and climbing trees to catch (or shoot) the breeze. Her other plan is to mulch the kitchen floor for me, so she engages in lavish dust-baths, rolling and rubbing herself in so that she turns brown, and then comes in and flosses it all onto the floor. She gets bonus points if I'm wearing my black daks, so she can rub the top layer off on them. What a life. Her other activity is sleeping on the dining table on my summer hat.

Cats are WEIRD. But oh so independent and norty and delightful.

Hmm....


....


kinda like me.

Maccy: the update.

Saint LIbby the vet says all his symptoms (agitation, extensive vocalising, weight loss, poor grooming) can be attributed to hyperthyroidism. We were investigating this in early December, but he was unwell in other ways so the treatment had to be delayed. Now he has nice thyroid tablets to take for a few weeks. Then we'll re-check his blood test to make sure other things are working properly, and then !!!! he may well be a very good candidate for radio-isotope treatment. This means a week in an isolation ward while he metabolises the bit which makes Geiger counters go berko. Heh. This treament cures 95% of cats permanently from thyroid disfunction. I find it kind of amusing to consider having a radio-active cat! He's had so many other dramatic things wrong with him, I'm sure this will just add an eery green glow to his 8th or 9th life.

As for the rest of me, I am slowly climbing out of my 'return-to-home' slump. I spent a couple of hours in the garden last night, clipping, pulling a few succulent weeds, tying things up again, watering and plotting. The plotting is the most abstract and the widest ranging activity. I'm delighted to see that almost nothing has suffered during our absence. I think several storms of rain did their bit to keep things looking very good. Mysteriously the four pumpkin plants have disappeared, but I suspect they were put in a place that Wendy considered to be sacred digging territory, so I'm NOT going to investigate! The artichokes have positively creaked upwards, the roses are getting ready to bloom again, all the veggie seedlings are about 8 times bigger, and the weeds in the 'cleared' areas are looking especially lush.

I enjoyed having enough heat in the day to deal with umpteen loads of sheets, towels and every knicker in the house. Hmm, sun-dried knickers, there might be something in that... I like having my dvd collection, and my proper cushion on the chair, not to mention the lovely purple velvet pillows on the bed. So sofffttt....

Resolution? I haven't had the heart to make any, but today a little thought kind of trickled through the layers of early morning fug, caffeine absorption and bleariness - maybe I could try a bit harder. That's it. I'm not going to spoil a good idea by confusing it with details, expectations or deadlines. We'll see.

Today brought to you by a very shiny laundry (after I had to completely take down, re-organise/prune/clean/de-tangle and tie up properly George and Georgette, the monsteras). Also a very shiny cat (Wendy, fopping all over the euphorbias), and a ruffled but patient Maccy. Also a few blasts of Angel, which I think I am going to be addicted to for a bit. Tomorrow is jam-making, sewing (with the aircon on for sure), and a proper dinner. Of..... proper food, proper cooking, and such. Watch this space!

Re-entry, Mark 2

Hmm...I am Officially Not Well.

Again.

Sighhhhhhhh...

My respiratory system was, as you regular readers well know, a troublesome travelling companion. Oh well, I thoughts to myself, once I get home things will settle down.

I was wrong. You don't need the details. Roids rool, n all that... re-entry is being prolonged by continuing shit health. I don't know if that is a Medicare item, but it should be!

Meantime, however, between meds, puffers, rests, abandoned plans, and quite a lot of takeaway food, some things HAVE been achieved:

-I have found my socks but not my mobile.
-I have cut some but by no means all of the matted fur lumps off the divine but arthritic Maccy.
-I have enjoyed listening to Alice the Garden singing as she watered the new babies, and talked to Little Miss Wendy, my local buffalo-huntress.
-I have cooked a very good roast lamb, the only change to my usual recipe being to cook it very slowly on a low heat (so I could sleep off something or other). It was moist, tender and YUM.
-I have moved the furniture back to its normal configuration in the lounge, and removed sundry junks, so it looks more homey. But the Great (and bloody endless) New Sofa Hunt will have to resume very soon!
-I have bought two new 'pattern-matching' (anti-Alzheimers!) games for free!!! for my trusty home laptop. And spent a lot of ventolin-fuelled midnight hours playing them while I metabolised said drug enough to stop shaking and go to sleep..
-my Good Wimmin turned up yesterday bearing amazing goodies for me: two bunches of flars (burgundy and cream, oh gorjuss), shortbread freckles, soothing Organic Serenity (TM) tea from Toby's Estate. Their intent was to cheer. It worked!
and
-I have been able to do a small but oh so wonderful bit of socialising - from the purrfect delight of young Aidan (hi baby!) to the extremely violent but perfectly balanced Bell Shakespeare's 'Titus Andronicus' last night. Literally buckets of blood. My play companions and I had to repair for a drinkie afterwards to wash away the images... which were NOT gratuitous. John Bell can use the most minimal set, props, costume, and with the power of words and interpretation, knock you backwards in your seat and peel the everyday glaze from your eyeballs, with a single gesture. Fabulous.

Had some straaaaaange dreams afterwards, but..

Today? There is the possibility of crullers with Cath, I want to sit on my deck, and I'd like to cook again. There is a fridge full of lovely farmer's market veggies to consider. But, sadly, no purrfume, because a) I can't smell a thing, and haven't been able to for about a week, SAD FACE; and b) anyway it might make me wheeze or koff, and THAT is something I can manage to frustrating purrfection all on my own....

The Week That Was...

... was busy.  An understatement.

... was full of many small but important achievements - fittings for walking shoes; anti-blister socks; after 3 tries, managing to get to the tailor with the right fabrics AND the right trousers to be copied (and suffer the brutal honesty of measurements); further consultations with the travel agent; a loooooooong consultation with the doc to get a three-month supply of the eleventy meds I need to keep body and soul together on a daily basis; physio; M to the dentist (it's my turn for that tomorrow); cleaners; path-making/paving person initial consultation (doesn't EVERYone decide to re-pave and beautify their entire garden 13 days before leaving on a three-month trip??); some craft-work; some cooking; cat-walking; two visits to the gym, and more.... (creak, pant, whimper..) ... lunch with sainted parents (and yes I managed to forget to bring their present.  Mum, otoh, presented me with some amazingly dubious summer pedal-pushers, white with large hot pink blobs, I think I'll frighten the horses in those - what on earth was she channelling when she bought them I wonder??? ... purrhaps best not to know, if my mother has suddenly developed a penchant for disco-daks I think I'd rather not know).

... was icy cold after the beauty of a week in Cairns.

... was strangely bereft of purrfume, especially over the last two days.  But I have a cold or purrhaps a small throat lurgy, so my sense of smell is gone again.  It's ephemeral at best, dammit.  I do recall trying Dolce and Gabbana "Ice Blue" on Friday and wondering if in fact it has any smell.  Didn't put two and two together and get' dodgy nose attack imminent'.  All these years and I am still naive about it.  That is either wonderful, or kinda sad...

... required me to fall into a large heap as of last night and have an uber-sleep followed by a Sunday afternoon of lolling about with newspapers, cups of coffee, phone calls to friends, a spot of Netting (check my blog list for a wonderfully-named new craft site), and a firm decision to stay inside.  Checking the breeze at the front door was enough to make that decision very easy. M got to be the Mr. Goody-FourPaws and take Maccy for his walk.  Maccy wasn't very obliging, he sauntered over to say howdy to the neighbours, did a bit of desultory tree-scratching, and then firmly sat down on the job and had to be carried home.  Hopeless.  Otoh on Saturday we managed to go all around the block, with him purring (and dwibbling) all the way, awwwww.. 

I have applied some 'Enjoy' to get me through the night.  This, combined with a nearly maximum quantity of pain-relievers, should do the trick.  Any kind of stress on my respiratory system, especially a virus, means almost instant umpty-fold pain in the left sinus.  That poxy left sinus which demands so much attention and which refuses to lie down and be quiet, even thougt the professorial uber-doc has pronounced it 'patent and healthy'.  Hear that, oh troublesome one??

Nup.

Am wafting off to the bedroom raspberry wall leaning against which are the purple, sage green and cerise pillows.  Pillows lying about on the sage and maroon covers keeping a slumbering M warm, and providing colour-contrast for one fuzz-buzz black scruff-bucket.  Enjoy, I say.  Enjoy, I smell.  

Sort of.