Wait a minute!

On Friday I call the vet to make an appointment for Sally. She’s breathing with difficulty, not eating and seems listless. I want to be told whether she has any chance of recovery. All the vets are in surgery or are completely booked. I ask if I can drop her off, have her fed and medicated and available for the next vet with a few minutes to spare.

I pick her up at 6:30. She seems marginally better. I make an appointment with her vet for the next day. I nebulize her, feed and medicate her though a tube, and drink Cuban coffee. I also seem better able to handle the feeding tube and syringe and have developed a method of nebulizing her while she’s in her carrier and I’m lying on the floor holding the nebulizer.

The tech gives me a modified cap for the tube, the vet gives me another kind of syringe, checks her insulin and expresses surprise at the number, pleasant surprise. It’s in the mid 200’s.

 He has just proposed a riddle: how does a cat get enough insulin to transform her food into usable calories, yet not be given insulin when she is not eating, because that could kill her. I ask plaintively: “Didn’t you say, no insulin is better than too much insulin?” He nods, but says nothing.

I take her home and field calls from worried friends who think I have euthanized her. She is looking dapper with an orange feeding tube sticking out of her neck.

 This morning she eats real food, three times.

And the insurance company has decided, that even though in their heart of hearts they believe I have stolen my own car and torched it, they will play my claim.  Okay, so far so good.