Say hello to Franken-kitty!

[Big Mike, post-surgery hanging with Grizz, and having a bandage put on that will need a crowbar to be removed]

SO much has happened this last week, and this will have to be brief as it’s really Hell Week for me, as I have been thrust into being in charge of Litquake’s year-end donor drive, in addition to shepherding Big Mike through a THIRD surgery.

Yes, you heard me right.

After my last plaintive post, bemoaning his lack of progress, an angel friend (a very successful one) wrote to say she would pay for Mike to get a second opinion/treatment at Adobe Pet Hospital in Los Altos, where she knew the founder. This being an offer I could not refuse, I made his first appointment for Sunday. (They are a 7-days-open clinic, and their cat specialist, Dr. Rachel Boltz, works weekends! Heaven!)

But when she looked at him, she frowned and said I needed to leave him – that he needed surgery ASAP. She also feared a bacterial infection might be the reason he was not healing. (Tho this turned out to not be true.) I had not intended to leave him, and had not packed his favorite foods, his teddy bear Grizz, etc. He looked so confused when they took him away, and I was morose all day, worrying whether he thought he might have been abandoned by me.

Surgery (2.5 hours worth) the next day went VERY well, the doctor reported. She even sent me gack-worthy photos of the wounds before (gaping) and after (completely gone, covered by perfectly stitched fur and skin). It was an amazing thing to see. They had also taken what seemed to be a huge chunk out of his abdomen for the grafts – and his belly now looked like something out of Frankenstein, held together by large stitches and pins. They kept him in ICU for three days, where he was immobilized by drugs and fear. (I went to see him on Tuesday when I was down that way, which might have been a mistake. He was refusing food, didn’t seem to know me, and seemed like he wanted to die. It was very upsetting.)

When I picked him up Wednesday night they told me quite sternly that his bandages must stay in place! If they slipped, they warned, it would ruin the grafting. I got him settled back into the bathroom downstairs, and he seemed disoriented and scared, which was hard to see. After making my feeding rounds of the others, I went back in the bathroom and there he was: reclining majestically as always. When I began to pet him, he turned his head into my hand for a neck rub, and purred. Astonishingly forgiving, as always.

And then, the next morning, and of course Houdini managed to bother his bandages enough that they had slipped. I was horrified, with a tense, tightly-packed day ahead in SF. I called the hospital and they said bring him in. I had to cancel half my day’s plans for the 90 minutes of driving and hour-long time there. I was NOT happy, and let them know it. (For what my friend is paying, is there not a way to make the bandages stay up??) Adobe is a “transparent hospital” – which was a new one on me – so I went back with them to the ER area where they re-bandaged him with a team of 2-3 wonderfully gentle people. Thankfully, the skin/fur grafts were perfectly intact.

He did his best possum imitation on the table, and went completely limp. So much so that the doctor quipped that I must have drugged him to get him to be so quiet. I said no, he’s just a remarkable cat – one that had never even been indoors or had someone love him until a few months ago.

Today it looks like his bandages – now decorated with a snow man – are holding, and he’s a very happy boy to be home. I take him back Sunday for a re-check, and hope that this is really the turning point we’ve been praying for. Hoping that his suffering is soon to be over.

To my friend, who has helped me save his life and shorten his suffering, I am grateful beyond words. Also to the pros at Adobe who, of course, helped.  😉