Another bloodletting!

Another trip to the vet! This is getting old! I'm still coughing and having breathing problems. I know I'm old, but it's not like I have a 3 pack a day problem.
I look pretty insignificant in the big scheme of things in this photo. It's a bad perspective or something because if I wasn't a big deal they wouldn't be shoveling all this money into my medical care.

Here is my owner giving me the full body petting treatment. I know better than to let my guard down though. There's usually not much pleasant that happens to an animal at these vet clinics. I'm just stating the obvious here.

Jennifer is the first medical staff to check on me. She's the one who comes over to take care of me when my owners are gone. They don't have some kid next door check on me; I get a fully trained vet technician to give me my steroids and cancer meds and give me a thorough looking over. She also feeds me naturally.

Unfortunately (for me) the first thing they have to do before they get down to business is weigh you and take your temperature. Weighing in is no big deal but getting your temp taken is down right unpleasant. I think the surveillance photos tell the story better than any string of words I could come up with!

My medical case is pretty complicated. That's why I have all kinds of medical staff looking after me. It's the celebrity treatment that I deserve. The verdict is that I need to have blood tests done and sent down to the specialists at California Veterinary Specialists in Murrietta where they can scope it out.

I HATE having my blood drawn! It's not simple like for humans. They stick a needle right into your jugular vein (yikes!) to suck the blood out of me.
As can be seen here, this required them bringing in some big burly guy to physically subdue me so the lab tech could nail me with the syringe. I made sure it wasn't pleasant for anyone! I was in a bad mood about this!
The blood is for a CBC blood test. It sounds pretty simple but it analyses a lot of things about my blood. I got to have the right amount of red blood cells and it tests that. Seems like it would go without saying that blood cells are red. I mean blood is red itself! Therefore, if there were cells in blood and they weren't red they sure would be once they got all bloody!! Everything is red after it gets bloody! It also tests my hemocrit which has something to do with how packed my blood cells are. When the vet first mentioned my hemocrit I thought she was calling me a hypocrite! That's not me! Hemoglobin, reticulocytes and all kinds of other stuff too. Sure alot of stuff in blood!!

I was feeling a little surly after all this. The penalty for this is apparently locking you up! Oh well - time out is never a punishment for a cat. We excel at laying around doing nothing! I was in and out of there in a half an hour. No biggie!

Looks like they'll send my blood tests down to the specialty clinic to my oncologist, Dr Prioux. We'll see what he has to say!

Scoring drugs and the payoff!

This is a story about drugs and money. My owners had been plenty neglectful and hadn't renewed my Rx for prednisolone. I do 5mg/day. It's a steroid and I'm supposed to take it every day. I can be a monster on that juice! My owner went to the Canyon Crest Animal Hospital which is where I'm seen for usual problems. When I need an oncology specialist Vet naturally I go to the California Veterinary Specialists (CVS). But I'm on drugs because I have cancer so EXCUSE ME if I don't want my humans farting around with this!! So anyways, the Animal Hospital, which is close to home, seems to be all decked out for Christmas. Let's bear in mind that it's the day before Thanksgiving so apparently the Animal Hospital is trying to cash in on the crass commercialism of Christmas rather than respecting it as a traditional religious holiday. Not that I give a damn one way or another, actually.

To get back to the story, my owner wanted to score the steroids at the local place but it's the CVS docs that prescribe it. Apparently is some kind of federal crime (!!) to have one place dish out the drugs unless there is some kind of coordination of medical care. This is all getting pretty complicated given what I hear you can score at the middle school a few blocks away. I'm sending my owner out to score the drugs. It's hard to imagine this is a crime. It's not like Rush Limbaugh did time for having his maid do the same thing! We're both celebrities! Just give us the damn drugs!!

Thanks god for Jennifer (on the left) who is the vet tech who visits me when my owners take off. As a trained specialist, she is able to give me the drugs I need every day as well as serve me dinner (always Fancy Feast Grilled Tuna with Gravy). She works at the animal hospital and she fast talked her way to getting what I needed since they have them right there in the hospital. So my owner scores the dope and hightails it home so I can get back on the juice. This all happened because my owner finally paid her professional fees to looking after me a couple weeks ago. They need to stay on top of this a little better.

The only question I have now is who the hell is that guy in the picture?? His name is Ryan but I've never seen him. He doesn't care for my needs. The only thing I can think of is that he wanted to hop onto Jennifer's claim to fame as a regular on my blog. But I don't know Ryan from Adam. Actually, I don't even know an Adam. I'm not sure why I said that. But if he pulls that stunt again I'll bill him for my promotional services!

My Cancer Check-up with Dr Schoen

Theme of the Day: Bloodtests!

Well, yippie. Here we are again! Dr Schoen's medical clinic. Just sitting around waiting for medical attention. Now that's the thing - I don't need any medical attention. I've done my best to not barf on the bed and to keep the upchucking of fur balls outdoors. It's like I'm being punished or something!

Dr Schoen apparently has some kind of affirmative action program at the clinic where she is forced against her will by federal law to treat some quota of dogs. Otherwise, I'm sure she wouldn't have dogs here. It's just too nice of a place.

I'm feeling fine and don't mind sitting here with my pretty owner even though the ride over in the PPU (personal prison unit) always gets me grumpy! They treat me like a criminal sometimes.

I glare at my other owner and he gets up so I snatch the opportunity for a more comfortable chair that I deserve that will remove me from a tile floor that the people here allow DOGS to run on.

I think dogs have peed in here. It doesn't smell, but it just has that weird creepy feeling that you get when dogs have been around indiscriminately urinating on things. I don't know why dog owners even bring them in to a vet. This world would be a better place with fewer dogs. Less barking, less poop surprises in the front yard. I was sitting on the fence in the front the other day and this big fat guy walks by with a dog on a leash (it's disgusting that dogs allow this leashing business). So anyways, this dog just squats in my front yard and takes a dump!

I can't tell you how ill this made me feel. If that dog had been there alone I would have chased him down and scratched his face off but in this case I was afraid the big fat guy, Mr Giganto, would topple over on me. They would have never found me!

I've strayed a little off topic - everyone but the most stupid humans know that dogs are the retards of the animal kingdom.

The other owner took this picture. To the extent that you can call it a picture - the composition is horrible! It's not like I expect Ansel Adams to return from the grave, but I just wish he would try a little harder. He always talkes about his fancy camera. I bet that thing is smarter than he is! Which would explain alot, I guess.

It turns out I'm here for a check up. Jennifer, who is a vet tech here and she's the one who looks after me at home when my owners desert me, spills the beans that I need some blood work done so my oncology vet (Dr Prouix <--- board certified) can send in a prescription for my cancer pills. This requires several vets and a medical laboratory to coordinate my treatment since these are human cancer drugs. My cancer is in remission but that doesn't make me any more thrilled to be called the cancer cat by my owners. But it's nice to know that everyone around here understands that I'm an important celebrity and requires a complete medical team for my well-being. That just comes with being so important.

So I'm here for a check up. I'm feeling fine (except for the ride in the PPU (personal prison unit) which always gets me in a bad mood! Dr Schoen comes in and starts doing her medical stuff - poking me in places that are not always pleasent. She must realize that I'm feeling fine since she seems so happy.

The good mood disappears in a hurry though when she grabs a torture instrument (see forensic photo below) and reaches around to my back side! At that point I demand that no more photos be taken. In the internet era, photos have a way of ending up on the internets. That's like celebrity cat 101. At any rate, just remembering this is putting me out of the mood to blog.

I do feel important though. This vet visit isn't cheap and that blood workup - well let's just say I'm glad that didn't come out of my Fancy Feast fund. And the pills - get this - 120 bucks for two months supply.

I'm feeling luved!

Caretaker?? What's going on here?

Jennifer, my new caretaker!

So what's going on here you might be wondering. One of my litter changers (not the cute one) invites this person over and they're talking about me. My food needs, where my cancer pills are, and he even shows her my litter box! I know I'm a pretty public cat, being a celebrity and all, but where does he get off showing my litter box to a complete stranger? This isn't a rhetorical question! I'd like a damn answer to that!

I'm getting the feeling that the owners are going to desert me but there aren't any traveling things laying around like suitcases. I'm not very happy about this - as can be seen in the surveillance photo above. Now another thing becomes clear ... this chick works at Dr. Schoen's veterinary clinic & gulag. In fact, I overhear that she's a vet technician. I hear the word technician and I think of someone who is skilled at something - like maybe torturing cats!

I get abused around here only getting two feedings of Fancy Feast Sliced Ocean Fish Feast in Gravy a day and not getting petted nearly enough, but why call in a ringer? Well the next day I find out. The litter changers are leaving for a week and basically she's my babysitter! I'm 15 years old. Let's face it, when I was born she was probably in the 4th grade! I'm not sure what relevance that has, but I don't like being left in the care of strangers! My owners aren't good enough for me but at least they take care of my basic needs!

So here's the bottom line! She's been called in to "pill me" and make sure I got plenty of food and water. I'm getting a little tired of the new lingo around here. It's time to "pill Tommy" and referring to me as the "cancer cat." WTF!! The first day she comes I come out and she's all nice and stuff. Then like wham bang she's sticking pills down my mouth! She was pretty slick about this. I have to admit, even as street smart (and wilily) as I am, she got the best of me that day. She reminds me of the vet tech at the cancer clinic I go to. Vet techs are sneaky - I'm not going to mince words. I guess that's like a big job requirement or something!

She feeds me right after this and is serving me the Fancy Feast Grilled Tuna in Gravy (one of my favorites!). Then she leaves. Just walks out.

The next day she comes I'm not quite so trusting. But she pets me and talks to me and then damnit! she sticks two pills down my throat!! I'm getting kind of tired of this routine! But she serves the Fancy Feast Grilled Tuna in Gravy again and at least she knows how to make up for being so rude. She pets me quite a bit that day. I think she feels guilty sticking pills in me. I'll try and use that against her for more food.

Basically this routine goes on for a week. I'm getting lonely with just one visit a day with the bare minimum of adoration and one (not two) feedings a day. This ain't right. One of the four treaties in the Geneva Convention sets standards for non-combatant cat prisoners and that's just what I feel like - a prisoner in my own home! IS ANYBODY LISTENING! I'll look into this and Jennifer better hope that I don't find a good international cat law attorney to take my case because only one feeding a day of Fancy Feast has got to be against the law. That only makes sense!

A week alone got to be pretty dreary even with sleeping 18 hours a day and I have to admit I liked that at least Jennifer would come by. I don't think I'll hold her sticking pills down me against her. She was basically pretty nice to me and I think what happened was she was paid off by one of my owners (the mean one obviously) to do this to me. I hope she wasn't into all this just for the money because I'd hate to think the affection that came my way and the relationship (her admiration of me) that we developed wasn't real. At least she fed me the best Fancy Feast so she has good taste in cat food like my owners. She came by and scratched me behind the ears (it's my weak spot) and her and the big owner talked for awhile and nobody shoved pills down my mouth. I wasn't paying attention to them because it probably wasn't important and I was getting my head scratched as I just mentioned.

At least my owners got someone who is highly qualified to look after me. Most cats (and I'm not "most cats"!!) just get a neighbor or kid to come by. My status apparently requires a highly trained veterinary technician to visit me daily. She has 9 years of professional experience and she has a cat of her own. I won't settle for less in the future.

Things are starting to get back to normal around here. It's about feeding time so I gotta go!