Ah. Yes. Well...
After a time when things had been just jogging along gently, and I felt I could write about feeling relaxed, the next day was as if someone had tipped a load of extra problems into a giant mixing bowl, and was enjoying stirring everything up.
First thing in the morning, Mum's clothes and entire set of bed-linen needed changing: not just the usual flat top sheet (I put a fresh one of those out every day), she had soiled the lot, including her nightie. This meant an awful lot of sterilising and pre-washing, before it could go in the washing machine. In addition, the sling was wet; this must be laundered at a lower temperature than the rest of the stuff, and it takes a long time to dry. I got that on first.
Happily, it was a beautifully warm and sunshiny day; a few hours out on the line, blowing in the warm breeze, and later that afternoon, the sling was dry.
If a washing machine had feelings, I imagine after dealing with the loads it coped with today, it would be wiping its mechanical brow and saying, "Thank goodness that's over!" I was certainly relieved to have got it everything washed and on the line.
The second problem was with Pushkin, one of our pussy cats. Last night, when I was ironing, she lay down by my feet as usual; I took off my shoes, tickling her ears with my toes. She can stand this attention for hours! As I finished the ironing, she curled up in the corner by the radiator, just as she normally does, and was soon fast asleep. Pushkin does not have a voice - she cannot meow - but when she sleeps, and probably dreaming, she makes little noises. Maybe she is chasing mice, or on other important business, but this evening, I thought her chirrups seemed to be coming a little faster than usual.
When I stroked her to say goodnight, she seemed fine, but in the morning she was lying very still, and breathing so shallowly, at first we thought she might have died.
She was off her food, she was sick and had diarrhoea, so we realised it could be quite serious. I rang the vet's surgery, and got an appointment for later in the morning.
Then Mum had to be attended to. We divided up the jobs equally; after washing her hands and getting her teeth brushed, I made the breakfast and helped Mum to eat her cornflakes and drink her tea, whilst another family member rushed Pushkin to the vet.
I could tell Mum was also very uncomfortable. She kept moving her legs up and down, and I thought something must be hurting her.
"Have you got any pain anywhere?" I asked.
"Yes, I do," she said.
"Where does it hurt, Ma?"
"My ankle."
Well, she couldn't have been more precise than that, so I checked her left ankle, and I was really worried to see the ankle bone appeared to be sticking out far more than it had done before.
Ever since the operation back in November 2011 to insert a metal strip and screws, we have known the result wasn't perfect. The surgeon told us Mum's bones were like crumbly cheese; they had done their best, but Mum was left with some dislocation. We have always been very careful not to damage the area in any way; we check her legs every night, and I was sure her ankle had not been like that when she went to bed.
As it was a bank holiday weekend, there was no point in trying to get it checked out until Tuesday; maybe another X-ray will be required. In the meantime, we gently wrapped a bandage round her ankle, covering the bone, which will give it some support and protection until we can call Mum's GP.
I gave Mum a couple of paracetamols in water - because they are effervescent, Mum calls it "fizzy-pop"! - and presently the carers returned to get Mum back into bed for her afternoon nap.
The news on Pushkin was that her temperature was slightly raised, and she was obviously distressed. Poor little thing - she is such an inoffensive little cat, and it's awful to think she is unwell. The vet took a blood test, and said she would call us at home, as soon as she had the results.
Pushkin was very glad to be home again, and came to sit beside me; I was prepared to tickle her ears with my toes, but she was not up even for that favourite pastime.
When the vet rang, she said Pushkin has hyperthyroidism, which is fairly common in older cats; her white blood count was raised as well, so she is probably fighting an infection. We arranged another appointment for later in the day, and at that consultation, the vet gave Pushkin an injection of antibiotics, so hopefully that should start to make her feel better soon. We can't get Pushkin to take tablets, and the vet said there is an alternative medication for the thyroid problem, in the form of a cream, which we must rub into the skin on the inside of Pushkin's ears, twice a day. This medicine is dearer than tablets, but it is no use having pills if we can't get Pushkin to swallow them. The vet will order the cream and it should arrive in a few days.
After all this, everyone ended up feeling, "Please, can it stop now? And can we have break?!"
On a happier note, Mum had a good afternoon kip - she woke up smiling, and happy, and did not complain at all about her ankle; she enjoyed all her dinner.
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| Pushkin, waiting for her dinner! |
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