As we all know, I'm no stranger to
animals peeing on my rug. So, when I noticed puddles on my carpet, the red haze of rage threatened to overtake me. Upon closer inspection, the aroma assailed me and I thought, "No way the rug pissers did this." (Bonus points to those who can cite that movie quote. And I've given you a hint: MOVIE quote.) Investigation of the litter box revealed that it was nearly pristine in it's cleanliness. Cat attack. For his sake, he better be ill, because if this is his way of telling me he prefers to sleep under my blankets rather than the top of the comforter, he will find himself being an outside cat. I care not that he is fairly defenseless in his half de-clawed state. I pulled out the dreaded cat crate, put the Cat From Hell in a half-nelson with sleeper hold, and wrestled him, spitting and screaming, into it. Off to the vet we go.
My dear vet was not impressed with CFH's health history and informed me I was going to have to do some behavior therapy combined with aromatherapy and maybe some exorcism. "But we'll test his urine just to be sure." Testing his urine turned into gassing him, a bladder irrigation, some subcutaneous fluid replacement, and other sundry activities resulting in a charge of $275. (My dad's reaction? "It wouldn't have cost me $275." Yes, Daddy, and how much do hollow points run these days?) The kicker of this whole experiment is that CFH required some medications, one of which is available only through a human pharmacy. He was to get the half the usual dosage twice a day. Unfortunately, the pharmacy wont make 1/2 dosage capsules. Thus, my vet gave me (okay, SOLD me) some gel caps to divide the pills. The vet tech even gave me pointers: "You can use a credit card to divvy it up." Now I see myself red eyed and sweaty, separating this white, powdery medication like some kind of kitty dope pusher, rolling up Monopoly money for CFH to snort the precise lines. I decided to just pull the capsules apart and pour the stuff into the gel caps until it looked as if equal amount were in each. Two problems. The first being, this stuff doesn't pour and the second being these are tiny little gelatin capsules and it would take someone with far less caffeine on board than I to do this without making a mess. As it was I had more visions of little kitty cocaine vials, and wondered where I could get coke spoons that small. Not to mention how would he use them as he lacks opposable thumbs?
My days are now spent grabbing the poor feline out from whatever dark, inaccessible haven he has stashed himself, prying his maw with it's glistening fangs wide open and shooting these meds down his throat without getting sliced by the vegematic back claws while dodging the dog's inquisitive nose into CFH's nether regions. You can't say my life is boring.
The mental pygmies were out in full force today at InnerCity General. I had three triage patients today and they may have had 2 functioning brain cells and 1/2 a synapse between them. *sigh* Complete with the oh-so-classy support people. I had asked one of these mental giants when she had had her last bowel movement. There was a pregnant (heh) pause and she must have shot a pleading look toward her baby daddy, because he then tenderly asked her, "When was the last time you took a crap?"
The movies and games are part of a larger effort by CAUSE, a group founded in 2003 by 4 West Point grads who had served together in Vietnam. The idea behind CAUSE is that morale among active and recovering soldiers and Marines can be dramatically improved through R&R activities. At Walter Reed, CAUSE has facilities at the Mologne House, which is an outpatient dormitory for personnel and their families. The CAUSE library carries DVDs, as well as video games and equipment and is open to anyone at Walter Reed, free of charge.
A fine way to support the troops and the vets. I'm just sayin'.
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