Chaplin and his hilariously sad cone/satellite dish collar, critiquing my queue of BSG episodes.

This time, they actually let me spring him as promised. I don’t know who’s happier, me or him.

He’s doing fairly okay - I have to keep a close eye on him to make sure he’s not trying to lick his stitches or chew off his fentanyl patch (being held on by the blue bandage on his foot), but for the most part he just wants to sit, be stoned, and snuggle.

He does find time to hate his new haircut, which took odd looking patches off of all four of his legs, plus all his belly fur. He looks like some demented person tried to shave him like a poodle and was stopped just before they got to his tail.

But really, he’s being super sweet and cuddly, and really happy to be out of the hospital. Unless, of course, I try to medicate him. This was him after my first round of chasing him down to dope him up:

Anyway, very, very happy to finally have him home and have him apparently be on the mend. Couple more pictures over at my Flickr.

Edited to add: Oh, and his collar’s off because I’m here keeping a close eye on him. He still has to wear the satellite dish when I’m asleep or at work for the next couple weeks, but at least as long as I can keep watch on him he’s free of that misery.

My current Crackberry doesn’t have a camera, and there are definitely times like tonight where I wish it had one.

I went to visit Chaplin in the animal hospital (hopefully I can take him home tomorrow but they want to keep him under observation for another night) and they had finally taken out the tube that had been running into his bladder for the last couple weeks.

They had repeatedly tried to bandage him up to protect the area of his stomach the tube had been coming out of, but he’d kept kicking the bandages off…except for this last one they put on him.

It’s a big neon green bandage wrapped around his midsection, complete with a powder blue bandage that someone cut out in the shape of a “C” and stuck on his back. Apparently the second that one went on, he decided that the bandage was okay.

I was describing this look, along with his ridiculous satellite dish collar, to Joel and he immediately replied, “So he looks like a superhero lamp.”

A superhero lamp with a very goofy haircut, but yes. Superhero lamp.

If they leave the bandage on when I go to get him tomorrow, I’ll try to get some pictures.

Chaplin did wind up needing more surgery, unfortunately. The good news is that it was the less severe surgery (ACHTUNG!: Guys should think twice about whether they really want to click that link), which has a much lower rate of complications.

Hopefully I’ll have him back on Sunday. This entire experience has been incredibly emotionally draining for me, and obviously pretty physically draining for poor Chaplin. He’s now down to 16 pounds, and looks even skinnier because they had to shave off all his belly fur for the first surgery.

Anyway, thanks to those of you who have been keeping your fingers crossed for him, I really appreciate it. Hopefully he’ll get better quickly and I can go back to writing about how goofy LA is instead of the horrifying blog cliché of health updates about my cat.

Patient: My aunt
Status: Released from hospital
Notes: Significant improvement from when I first arrived in CT. Gnarly scar on her neck from carotid surgery that’s going to be lots of fun to explain to my grandmother, but otherwise on the road to recovery. Has 23 pound cat now providing round the clock snuggle therapy when not eating my aunt and uncle out of house and home.
Prognosis: Long recovery, but good.

Patient: Chaplin
Status: Still in hospital
Notes: They’re going to try pulling his catheter tomorrow to see if everything’s healed properly. Cross your fingers - if everything went well he won’t need any more surgery. Prognosis: Short term unclear, long term he’ll be fine.

Patient: My MacBook Pro.
Status: At Apple store, awaiting part (new Logic Board, supposed to arrive Monday).
Notes: I really, really, really hope they can fix my computer before I leave. I’m going batshit crazy without it as is, and really can’t afford to be without it when I go back because it’s my work computer in addition to my Distraction Provider.
Prognosis: Questionable. But frankly, I’m happy the inanimate object is the worst of my three patients.

More to come as I have it.

Chaplin’s procedure went well this afternoon, so there’s a good possibility he won’t need any more surgery! And even if he does, it’s surgery that sounds a lot less severe and complication-ridden than the worst case scenario that they were discussing.

I can’t even describe what a weight this is off my mind, and how it lets me leave for Connecticut in relative confidence that he’ll do okay just hanging with the people at the animal hospital for a little while, so I can go focus on my aunt and the rest of my mom’s family.

I was being superstitious and not packing until I heard one way or another, so I’m afraid I have to cut this short and, you know, pack and otherwise prepare my house for the fact that I won’t be here for a bit.

Thanks so much to all of you who’ve been keeping my little guy in your thoughts, I really appreciate it.

I hope all of you have a very Merry Christmas and Happy Channukah, especially those of you who have also been going through a really, really trying time. I know I’m not the only one.

I went to visit Chaplin tonight during the animal hospital’s visiting hours, and I’ve come back significantly reassured about how he’s doing. Especially after what happened last night.

After I posted last night, there were complications. While they were trying to cathetrize and manually unblock him, his urethra tore (cue all the guys reading this instinctively reaching for their crotches while sharply inhaling through their teeth).

They brought in a surgeon to give him emergency surgery, and while they did get a tube in to drain his bladder, they couldn’t repair the tear itself because he wasn’t stable enough.

So of course I was finding all this out over about two hour intervals over the course of the night, and I just completely flipped out. I barely slept last night, and I was really upset all day today.

But he seemed to be doing okay when I saw him. They basically have him stuffed into an oversized tube sock with little holes for his front paws to keep him from getting at the area where he had surgery last night. They had to shave a significant portion of his belly fur for the surgery, so that’s going to look pretty funny once he’s out of the sock.

And he is high as a kite. He basically had this look going:

So he was a little out of it, but he seemed much better than he did when I’d dropped him off last night. They told me he already ate an entire can of wet food and was well on his way to finishing a second when I came by.

He will need more surgery - depending on how his urethra does on its own, they’re debating which of two surgeries to do. But having spent an hour with him and listening to the doctors talk about how much he’s improved in the last day, I’m confident that whichever they have to do, it’s going to work.

The numbers they’re throwing around for how much this is all going to cost are just ridiculous, and I’m not even going to pretend that I won’t be going to the First National Bank of Dad for an advance on my inheritance to pay for this.

I prided myself on having been able to get through the last four years without having to take any loans from him, even when I was unemployed for four months of this year. Pride is out the window right now, though, in favor of getting Chaplin home.

The good news is that apparently my aunt’s doing a lot better. I’m trying to figure out a way to get to Hartford for a few days but come back significantly earlier than I was going to, but the way the airlines work it looks like I may have to go for the whole week or not go at all.

All in all, I’m not going to be completely okay until he’s been home for a few days, but I’m at least able to pry myself off the ceiling now. And frankly, that’s a huge improvement after last night.

I thought the earlier barfing incident was just Chap’s usual adventures in hairball-tasticness, but apparently not.

He got really listless and cranky tonight, and after puking IN his litterbox then barely being mobile and crying in pain, I took him to the vet. He’s got some sort of urinary blockage that they’re going to have to surgically remove.

The bill just to walk out the door tonight was $1800. The estimate on keeping him there 2-3 days, which is what they anticipate, is $3000.

As much as that upsets me, what upsets me a lot more is the dead silence in my apartment right now. And that’s why I’m paying the money.

He’s my little buddy. I can’t bear the thought of him not being here when I come home. Not trying to randomly bite my arm off. Not eating me out of house and home.

And frankly I feel bad about how bad I feel about Chaplin, because my aunt, my mother’s sister, is also in the hospital right now.

I haven’t really written about this much, but she had a major heart attack two weeks ago that led to a whole bunch of major surgery - triple heart bypass AND surgery on both carotid arteries. I found out this afternoon she’s probably going to be stuck in the hospital for Christmas.

And yet the thing that’s just destroying me right now is my cat. Physical distance is probably part of it - once I get to Connecticut and see my aunt it’ll probably hit me a lot harder.

But right now, just listening to the clacking of the keyboard and the cracking of the furnace, I miss the crunching of cat food and the yowling at the possum or the other cats that sneak onto the patio.

This is going to be a loooooooong week. Updates on all fronts as I have them.

One of my PAs who’s going to be in town for the holidays agreed to come by and feed Chaplin for a couple days (for a nominal fee, obviously) while I’m gone. In order to make sure he knows where I live and where everything is, I had him come by this morning.

So as I’m showing him around, Chaplin walks up, says hello, then immediately proceeds to the corner to go puke up a GIANT hairball along with a bunch of food. It was one of the more disgusting piles of puke I’ve encountered from him.

Of course this guy has never had cats, so he was like, “Uh, is that normal?”

Yeah. Yeah it is. Thanks, kitty!

And I’m amused that this cat who resembles him has managed to learn how to do it:

I think the only thing missing from this video is the Benny Hill theme music.