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.

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.

Ah, the first week of work after a long layoff. Inevitable lack of sleep and exposure to fun new germs leaving me sick…again. The good news is that this seems to be one that’s only affecting my chest and sinuses, and not completely addling my brain like the last cold I had.

The bad news: My nose is running like a leaky faucet. Went through half a box of tissues at work, probably going to wind up going through at least a whole one over the weekend. I’ll be a sight to behold in the crowd at Roller Derby tomorrow, clutching a giant wad of tissues as I cheer hot girls beating the everloving crap out of each other.

For now, I’m going to go hang out with my good friend NyQuil. To quote Denis Leary: “NyQuil, NyQuil, NyQuil, we love you, you giant fucking Q!”

Cold: Yep, still there. Thought it was going yesterday, then woke up to a nice fresh bout of coughing up internal organs this morning. Fun!

Work: Still unemployed. I suppose I should be grateful that I’m not fighting through this nonsense while working, but the financial and boredom situations are both getting a bit concerning.

Terminal Boredom: Yeah, starting to get there. The illness rendering me pretty well immobile is not helping at ALL, but I did manage to watch the entire first season of Mad Men over the weekend, so I’ve got that going for me.

Further updates when either a) something actually interesting occurs or b) I snap and write something totally loopy. Bets on which will happen first can be placed in the comment box.

It’s real amusing that you’re trying to escape my chest, but making me cough so much I lose my voice is not fuckin’ cool. And making me whip suddenly between restlessly full of energy and narcoleptically exhausted is not helping, either.

I guarantee you that I will start feeling better approximately the same time friday morning that I have a previously scheduled doctor’s appointment.

Thanks for waiting until I was in Vegas last night to completely collapse on me. It allowed me to enjoy the vast majority of my vacation without feeling like I was going to cough up a lung.

Made the drive back to L.A. this morning a little miserable, but at least I had a box of tissues I stole from the hotel and a bunch of DayQuil to make it bearable.

Medicinal Chinese food: On its way.

Good News: I was able to drag myself to the gym today and did 35 minutes on the elliptical, which felt great.

Bad News: Then I came home and passed out for four hours, which felt much better.

Hopefully tomorrow I’ll only pass out for 2-3 hours after working out…

Mark was in town this weekend, which was great fun. However, it led me to do the one thing I’ve tried to avoid doing at all costs while unemployed: I left the house.

This had two dire consequences. I am now a) broke and b) sick.

A) was expected and worth it. I do miss at least pretending I have a life, and it was nice to eat something other than another crappy frozen Healthy Choice dinner.

B), however, is proving more problematic. I initially blamed Mark and his Chicago-style germs, all covered in cheese and mustard.

But really, the problem is that I have had little human contact other than going to the gym for the last two months and my immune system was basically asleep in a dark corner of my pancreas when I needed it most.

Mark, his constitution hale and hearty from being tempered in the snows and bars of Chicago, was completely unaffected.

So now I’m left exhausted, coughing up a lung, with my nose running like a leaky faucet, but at least glad that I don’t have to work through this nonsense.

I shall provide further updates when the exhaustion lifts to the point that I can type more than 50 words a minute without feeling like I’ve run three miles.

Having had a bad cold and having blown through my remaining supply of Real (ie. pseudoephedrine-based) NyQuil, when I stopped by the drugstore to pick up another prescription tonight, I decided to pick up some more of the good stuff.

Two problems arose with this idea.

First, because pseudoephedrine is used in the manufacture of methamphetamine, anything containing it is now banished behind the counter, where you must scan your driver’s license in order to purchase it, allowing Big Brother to track your purchases and ensure you’re just sick and not manufacturing meth.

Because of this ridiculousness, most pharmacies just sell the “reformulated” (ie. completely useless) version over the counter, and keep a limited stock of Real NyQuil.

Secondly, because the cold I have has been going around for some time, said limited stock was depleted to the point where the only bottle left of the good stuff was the Green flavor.

Previously, I’ve always purchased the “Cherry” flavor, which tastes nothing whatsoever like cherries, but is at least bearable in its own foul, familiar manner.

Tonight was the first time I tried the Green flavor, which is only labeled “Original.” Now I understand why Laz refers to it as the GREEEEEEEEEEEEN flavor.

Because it doesn’t taste like anything else you’ve ever tasted. You taste it and you think, “UCH! That tastes….GREEEEEEEEN!”

You can hear and read that description all you want, but you cannot understand it until you take a sweet sip of the disgusting weirdness. Now, I understand.

And now, I must head for bed before I pass out facefirst on the keyboard.