Orthopedic

I had an appointment this week with an Orthopedic surgeon.  The good news is that I don’t need any knee surgery.  The bad news is that my cat, Wallace does.  On both rear knees.  Common in certain breeds of dogs, she is one of the lucky few cats who also has this particular condition.  I was just getting used to the idea of bringing my cat in to see an orthopedic doctor when I was hit with the estimate for the surgery. 

It’s not cheap.  I took a big gulp and then asked the question I didn’t want to ask – is this for one knee or both?  Knowing that the surgery is done one at a time, I was not surprised to hear this was just for the one knee.  And it did not include the blood work, but did include the radiology and did not include the post-op physical therapy.  Physical therapy for a cat!  To put it into proportion – I’m estimating that when all is said and done between both surgeries, follow up visits, pain meds, etc. that I’m looking at over 4 months of mortgage payments. 

 

But what is one to do?  My options are to leave her limping and in pain and let it get worse.  Or fix it.  Or I guess put her down.  Two of the three options are horrendous on one level and it makes the other option, although horrendous financially, is not really that bad.

On the flip side, it’s been wonderful visiting the hospital – every time I go everyone is commenting on how sweet a cat she is.  And she is really sweet which is night and day compared to Winston and his monster doctor visits.  It’s so strange being complimented on having a wonderful cat.
 

It’s still sinking in.  I do feel like I’ve been getting hit financially recently between losing the laptop and the car and now this.  I’m thankful that I really have nothing to complain since I’m very lucky in life.  But still, I wish life would just space these things out a bit more.  I’m crossing the fingers that the saying that these things come in threes in true and this is all for now.

 

The rub is that I want to hold off buying a car right now since financially I’ll be a bit strapped.  But I need a car now more than ever because of all the hospital visits.  The surgeon is a 30 minute drive – two towns over.  Nick has been very gracious letting me borrow his car.  But this will be ending soon.

 

The other rub is that I’m supposed to limit her movement – no running or jumping.  She’s only 18 months old with lots of energy.  And she gets along really well with her brother.  And is a big snuggler, especially at night in bed.  I was told I need to confine her in a room or large dog crate so that she can’t jump for up to 6 weeks after her surgery.  Which just seems so cruel even though I know it’s for her own good.  I think I’ve come up with a plan that solves two things.  I’ve been wanting to paint my bedroom and think I’ve landed on a color.  It’s Farrow and Ball which more pricey than the average pain, so may need to find a cheaper knock off color equivalent at the local hardware/paint store considering my new financial austerity.  I’m going to take the sectional out of the back sunroom.  Luckily it comes apart and I can store it in the enclosed porch.  And then I’m going to move my mattress to the sun room, on the floor.  I can put up two baby gates to keep her enclosed (no door) and include her necessities (food, water, litter).  And then in the bedroom, I can take the bed apart and move all the furniture to the middle of the room and finally paint the room.  This way, Wallace and I can still hang out and she’s not ostracized.  And I can still get something accomplished which I couldn’t have done otherwise.    

 

She’s scheduled for blood work this Saturday and surgery the Tuesday after Thanksgiving.  That’s three weeks before mom arrives for Christmas and Nick is potentially staying with me too.  At which point I think I’ll aim to have the bedroom back in order and may not need to be as strict with confining her.  Oh, also, she is a few pounds overweight so I’m supposed to put her on a diet too.  Right now, we’re just focusing on taking the pain meds which she does not love.  One thing at a time.  Of course, throughout all this, Wallace is still her happy self, full of curious enjoyment of life.  And more snuggly.  I think it's because on the first visit to the vet hospital, after exploring the room, she snuggled inside my sweater, nicely protected from the strange smells and barking dogs and saw me in a new light - as her protector.  The doctors say it's because one of the pain meds make cats super friendly and relaxed.  I like to think it was the first reason though.

 

And that reminds me, when I brought her in initially, to the vet hospital.  I was sure she had fractured her leg and would need a cast.  Even though she didn't seem to have any sharp pain when I felt her legs.  We walk into the waiting room and the place is full of dogs with casts on.  It was comical - I had never seen so many dogs with casts.  Now I'm wishing that was what she had.  I think it would have been a lot more affordable. And here I was dreading she would need a cast.  Amazing what perspective can change things.