i will beat this childbirth gig. nature is going down.
i have another appointment with Dr. Fingers this afternoon. induction will be discussed. BECAUSE EVERYONE'S ON A SCHEDULE. my father finally threw in his requirements last night. oh daddy.
so last night, i fixed dinner. i call it potatoes-carrots-onions-red bell pepper-mushrooms-cauliflower-rice in patak's sweet red pepper and desiccated coconut sauce from a jar. as some of you may already know, my belly is sensitive to red bell peppers... in the gasticular sense. and since brian claims they give him heartburn, i usually end up with the lion's share of red bell peppers in anything i construct on the homefront. so not only did i have a heaping helping of stinky-painful-gas inducing red bell pepper, i consciously made the fatal error of cooking it in red bell pepper sauce. living on the edge. playing with fire. fire that could come sliding out of my butt and on to a delivery bed at any time. considering one of my newest fears of childbirth is the poo-on-the-table possibility, i just can't understand why i haven't refrained from all eating sans a bird's beak full of nuts daily two days before my due date.
to add insult to injury, as soon as some room in my bowels freed up this morning, i decided lunch would be leftover red bell peppers stewed in red bell pepper sauce. poor Dr. Fingers. who am i kidding. poor me trying to control all those sphincters down there while relaxing for a painful probing.
back to the title of my post: yesterday was a crappy day. literally.
i don't know that i've made much mention of ttyki's own personal bowel issues which, by the way, have absolutely nothing to do with red bell peppers. too many other exciting issues arose around them like the beginning of diabetes and the self-correcting of diabetes.
in the meantime, however, she had been having an increasingly difficult time with the poo process. we tried incorporating wet food over the last couple of months, but those small and wormy alien poo's just kept coming. only they were getting smaller and less frequent. what was increasing in frequency was puking spittle either immediately before or immediately after the poo.
then, night before last, after what i reckon was a couple of days with no output, i dragged myself out of bed an hour after the nighttime feeding to clean up the lastest round which i could hear being issued forth in the bathroom... such is the advanced nature of my cat-puke radar. at first, i thought "hallelujah! those hairball treats i've been feeding her for the last week just hit paydirt!" as i surveyed what appeared to be consecutive splats of diarrhea on the tile. then i realized it was upchucked wet cat food. that couldn't be good.
i finally bit the bullet and decided things simply were not going to improve and it was going to hit me hard in the wallet and in the pussy. but if i didn't get her in there pronto, who knew when a good time would come around again soon to deal with it.
we packed up yesterday morning and headed out to see dr charles. the promise of a $400 bill later, i was on my way back home and ttyki was on her way to a very laborious day birthing a litter of poo's.
i returned at 5:30 to retrieve my poopy kitty and, after a $500 bill, sat down in dr charles' office chair to view my pricy new cat x-rays showing a traffic jam of poo tracing a route all through the abdomen of my feline. holy shit! i joked that surely this was the reason my kitten was such a grumpy pants. who wouldn't be? i'm shocked that she's been so active and perky the last several weeks. perhaps she had learned to live with her hard ships... if you know what i mean.
regardless of the veracity of my theory, she was definitely still a grumpy pants upon her arrival at the vet which necessitated her administration of another kitty cocktail. poor thing. that subcutaneous elixir really knocks her on her ass. which was bad because i soon as i was handed her in the carrier, i could smell the accident. she had already been bathed once that day, but another was on its way.
as soon as i arrived home, i plopped her in the tub. once she was as clean as i could get her, i toweled her off and watched helplessly as she made a beeline for the litter box. sopping wet cat + litter box = sopping wet cat completely covered in litter.
back in the tub she went while i shifted from my knees to straddling the edge of the tub as my ankles began to swell to the size of kilbasas. you think getting shit off a long-haired cat is difficult? just wait for the litter.
i finally pulled her out again and she was so out of it still that i was able to swaddle her in a towel with her face covered and hold her like a baby for several minutes without protest. she looked like a refugee from the star wars sand people. i think. i'm not really sure which ones the sand people were. but she looked like she was wearing a little blue hood. because she was.
in case that wasn't enough fun, i pulled out the hair dryer. no more wet cat with diarrhea games for me. she was displeased. and she's the cat who doesn't run away from the hair dryer. if i had been de-shitting oskar and drying him with a hair dryer, he would have just as soon as peeled himself out of his own skin and run away than get toasty warm with a hair dryer. so ttyki was now pseudo dry and banished temporarily from the bathroom. she could shit on the floor for all i cared. it would be much easier to clean up.
but she held it until we were satisfied she was dry enough to not cause much damage and then the bathroom became her new home.
let me tell you... a day later, and she's still one rough looking kitty. her little eyes look like they've been crying from the goo they had to put in them. her booty hair is curly and she finally just left her perch to lay on the bed and try to lick the remaining poo stains from her little, red ass. dude... she must feel light as a feather today.