jaunthie | Lumpy, bumpy cat

So apparently it's the M-cat's turn to give us cause for concern. He's developed a lump about the size of a pea under one of his legs, right where his armpit would be if cats had armpits. A small lump, to be sure, but distinct. So we took him into the vet, and the vet checked him over and he seems fine, but his teeth are grungy. He took bloodwork "just in case," and recommended that we have M's teeth cleaned and while he was under anesthesia, he'd remove the lump, close up the wound with a stitch or two (yes, the lump is that small), and we could get it biopsied just to be safe. Sounds reasonable, the bloodwork is just a precaution, yadda yadda.

Except, you know, M's bloodwork came back with some moderately elevated liver levels. Which is rather not so good for metabolizing anethesia. That, combined with previous shadows on X-rays from 18 months ago that suggested possible gallstones, complicated things. Dr. G made worried (and worse, unclear and rather obscure) noises to

fisherbear when he called to report on the bloodwork, involving words like "ultrasound" and "previous condition" and "acclerating" and "risk," which are perfectly understandable English words but rather worrisome out of context (i.e, what does this mean NOW and what do we need to do?). Fisherbear called me...and I started tearing my hair out, because this was entirely too similar to an incident we had with J, early in his diagnosis.

Fortunately, I do learn from such things. This time I only hesitated a little bit before calling Jake, who is marvellous and patient and a verterinarian, to explain to me what our perfectly nice, medically competent, and ordinarily much more linguistically forthcoming vet practice was trying to tell us (and failing, at least in this case). She kindly looked over M's bloodwork report, explained what she saw in quite clear English, and generally soothed my all-too-easily ruffled feathers. So now M will have an ultrasound, in addition to having his teeth cleaned, etcetera. And I will endeavor not to worry. Most likely this is all a tempest in a teacup.

But good grief, M-cat is going to be eleven this year. When did our puppy-dog in a cat suit get to be middle-aged, verging on a senior citizen? He certainly doesn't act like one.

Right. Deep breaths.