Cambridge + Somerville = Camberville

It's been a rough couple weeks. Maybe 10 mins after breakfast one morning, Dust came downstairs again making this low, loud moan, then it got kind of yodel-y and we were especially like ?! what is going on, buddy? and then he puked. Then another round 5-10 mins after that. We felt bad for him, poor kitty lost his breakfast, it happens sometimes - clean it up, give him an hour or two for his tummy to settle, offer kibble again... except he wouldn't eat any of that kibble. Nor of the wet food offered at lunch. By the time he refused his dinner I was Freaking Out & ready to take him to the vet right them; Stephen suggested texting their sister Sarah (who is a vet) who guided them through an initial physical exam and said it can wait 'til morning, but when morning came and he still wasn't eating we were first people at the vet.

Nothing was obviously wrong; temp ok, blood levels fine, breath sounds good... a little bit of irritation/inflammation visible on the xray around the stomach & upper small intestine, both that vet and Sarah thought this was very encouraging, just a little gastritis, once it settles down he'll happily be eating again. The vet even said I could go on the ski weekend we'd had planned (I wasn't gonna ski but I was gonna eat my weight in fondue) and leave him mostly unsupervised with the occasional catsitter visit, but I absolutely wasn't gonna be able to relax and enjoy myself like that - stayed home and failed to get this little boy to eat the entire weekend even with the anti-nausea and appetite stimulant meds they'd sent home with us. By Monday I was a wreck, and this time the vet was saying best case feeding tube, worst case exploratory abdominal surgery with no guarantee they'd even find anything. This time he did have a bit of a fever, and xrays showed worse inflammation in that same area; his underlying health was getting him through something rough (even just 1 whole day without food can cause hepatic lipidosis in cats, and it had been 4 at this point for him but they said no signs of that yet). I cried in the exam room while they were getting the paperwork ready, I was so scared my cat was dying.

It took hours longer than expected for anyone to update me; apparently they were short-staffed on assistance for the day, qualified people to save my kitty in abundance but no one to then ring and say hey he just made it out and is doing ok - they had to go save the next one - so I waited way too long and increasingly certain something very terrible had happened... especially the last 40 mins, when I'd called the vet and the receptionist said his surgeon would be able to call me back in 10-20 mins and offered no further information about my cat's condition. My sister's on maternity leave right now, she was great: saw the text with that info and immediately called me, asked if I wanted her to stay on the phone with me 'til they called back, and eventually volunteered that it had been a LONG fuckin 10-20 mins and helped me brainstorm a callback that wasn't "look can you please just tell me if my cat is dead".

So apparently part of his intestine got folded into itself, and once it's there the rest of the intestine just starts doing its normal intestiney thing and starts pulling it along... this is a super rare thing in cats and humans, generally only seen in the very young (and at least with cats, Sarah volunteered, also generally riddled with parasites on top of that). He lost 3-4" of gut and was, in what probably could have been phrased more delicately to me by the surgeon, "laid open like a fish," but he was ok! We could come visit him now, but they'd need to hold him 'til they saw him eat, keep it down, and get it successfully out the other end. He was terrified and more than a little furious in the backroom cages there, but oh my word he already looked so much better than he had, and his fever had broken.

The vet warned us that he wasn't completely out of the woods yet - the first 5 days after this sort of surgery, they're at the greatest risk of dehiscence, the gut tearing itself apart at that suture site instead of sealing back together. So I have to admit I was torn the next couple days, obviously wanting him to please finally eat something but also kind of relieved he had full-time professional attention for some of that window. But when by Wednesday he still hadn't eaten anything, we all agreed look this cat spent the first 6-9 months of his life in a feral colony with zero human socialization, he's made good progress with us in the following 5 years but he's just too scared to eat in this entirely novel setting now... with equal parts relief and terror, we took him home. Set up the guest room to have as many cozy spots and as few things that could be climbed on as possible, got a special kind of litter that wouldn't stick to his belly wound if(/when) he laid in it, got a medicine schedule with antibiotics and opioids along with the stuff he'd already been on. HE ATE IMMEDIATELY! It had been six and a half days; I texted everyone in celebration.

It took another two and a half days for him to poop and by that point it was becoming increasingly clear just how much he was struggling to adapt to the cone of shame. Every single time he'd try to go somewhere, he'd bonk it on the walls and corners of things, get stuck and just kind of pause & push without understanding why "go" wasn't working, catch the bottom of it on whatever cushion or rug he was headed toward and just faceplant... and if you'd come try to help him, lift the cone up, he'd motor forward and immediately be full head-down & stuck again. He was eating some, but not nearly enough and maybe it was because he couldn't figure out how to get to the food, so I started hand-feeding him. This took about 45 mins a go, and to get anywhere close to enough food in him I was doing it 4-5 times a day. It was excellent bonding time for us! I was so scared about whether he was gonna make it, I slept in there with him most nights too, and one time he crept up on the bed with me and then closer and closer and closer, until finally I scooped him up next to my chest so I could just keep gently petting him, and he leaned against me and purrrrrrred and we fell asleep with him against me and my hand against him and I never thought I'd get to cuddle this scaredy boy like that but he stayed there the whole rest of the night.

At his post-op follow-up this Friday he was cleared for all normal activity as long as he doesn't start obsessively licking at his belly. He can eat on his own and is able to finally get in enough calories now! We still kept him in the guest room for the overnight that first night, Fnord's super freaked out by this interloper who is shaped like Brother but obviously is not Brother because he smells wrong, and we wanted a little more time for Dust to get a chance to groom some of the worst of the vet's office off of him before letting them that long together unsupervised. Fnord's still hissing every time he gets too close to Dust, but no action beyond that, and Dust remains ever hopeful that after 2 weeks of ordeal he will finally get some comfort from his favorite person just as soon as that person stops swearing at him so look it's been 10 minutes surely it's time to say hi again. They were technically free to roam last night but Fnord spent the whole night firmly installed behind my knees, so I did get to supervise the 3-4 interactions they had overnight. I can still smell the medicine-y scent on Dust, so I think it might be a bit yet for Fnord to accept him back. We'll be here to give him whatever scritches, pats, and cuddles he's willing to accept from *gasp* humans, in the meantime.

He's gonna be ok!