Pushkin Has Had Another Spell In Hospital

Pushkin Has Another Spell In Hospital

After such a brilliant three weeks or so since the New Year, on Friday night last week, Pushkin suddenly started to wheeze and breathe terribly heavily again. We nursed and loved her, but she simply could not get comfortable, and she wasn't eating - we all know how horrible it is to try to eat when you are so bunged up, and we were really worried about her. 

At about 7.00 p.m., I rang the vets at Wylie, and they said to bring her in straight away; the kind and understanding  vet I spoke to said he would wait for us to arrive, and he would admit her. We got there at 7.30, and took Pushkin in; she was clearly unhappy, and after he had examined her, the vet put her into an oxygen kennel straight away. He then came and talked to us about her treatment, and promised he would call us if there was any change or major problem. The vet who would be working the overnight shift was also someone who knows Pushkin well, and we said we were happy for anyone to call us at any time, should that be necessary. 

Back home, it felt strange not to have Pushkin in the lounge - it is always like that when she is in hospital, but at least we knew she would have some respite with the oxygen, and we hoped the vets would think of other medication that might also help her. It is just so peculiar the way the problem returns so dramatically, especially after a goodly stretch of time when Pushkin has been well.

At about 12.30 a.m., I rang the surgery, and spoke the lady on night duty; she remembers Pushkin from all the other times she has cared for her, and is so kind and understanding - she has 3 cats herself! - and knows how we feel.  She assured us Pushkin had settled down well; she was on oxygen, so her breathing was better, and her respiratory rate had settled down, too; she is monitored every hour. I repeated that, if they needed to talk to us, I am an owl, and happy to take a phone call at any time! but knowing Pushkin was doing alright so far, meant I would have a better night. 

In the morning, another vet rang us to say Pushkin was doing alright but, as she was still not eating, it was felt she should stay in for another day, to check how she gets on, and they wanted to see more stability with her breathing. Pushkin had been given a steroid injection and also something to stimulate her appetite; I also asked if she was dehydrated, but the vet said Pushkin was fine in that respect. 

There is no doubt that Wiley Vets are very conscious of the fact that we worry about Pushkin and want the best for her; later in the day, they rang us to say she had had a little bit to eat, and was settling better. We agreed to the suggestion that Pushkin stay for another night in hospital, and then, if all was well, we could probably bring her home on Sunday. 

On Sunday morning, I rang the surgery, and was assured it was all good news. We could indeed take Pushkin home;  she was eating well, and they also felt she would be much happier and relaxed with us! - and so we would be, too.

We arranged a collection appointment for 1.15 and got there in good time. With all the problems thrown up with the virus, on arrival we had to ring reception, and let them know we were in the car park, and presently, one of the nurses brought Pushkin out to us in the carrying case, and put her on the back seat of the car. 

The nurse gave us a full run-down of all that had been done for Pushkin and what medication she had been given, along with the assurance that if we were worried in any way about her, to bring Pushkin straight back. The vet had repeated that, if Pushkin needed further treatment, it would be better to get it going quickly, rather than leaving it in the hope that she might improve on her own. 

It continues to be a mystery as to why these distressing incidents come on so fast; the best veterinary brains in the area are puzzled by it, and we know we have not introduced anything strange in the house that could cause an allergic reaction. Because I also have such a sensitive sense of smell, I don't use any aerosols, powders, carpet cleaners, diffusers or air fresheners, either - nothing has changed from the time when Pushkin was well for all the past years to now, when things can flare up so swiftly.

When we got home and opened the top of the carrying case, Pushkin leapt out of it like a two-year-old; tail up, she went investigating the food situation, and finding all her bowls empty, gazed at us resentfully until I opened a sachet as quickly as I could, and emptied it into her bowl. She was on it in a moment, really tucking in as though she hadn't eaten for days! and it was just wonderful to see such a positive reaction. 

She has continued to eat well, and has little strolls out on the patio - although it has been literally freezing cold, she is determined to check everything is still in its place - and is loved and fussed and generally made to feel she is definitely back in charge. 

We enjoy every moment. Long may it continue. 

I Receive My Invitation To Be Vaccinated

 I Receive My Invitation To Be Vaccinated

Quite out of the blue - as I thought I was still in the younger age bracket yet to be called for a Covid vaccination! - I received a text message on my ancient mobile phone, saying I should book an appointment for my first dose. It was at a Clinic in Kennington, so I found out the phone number for them, but when I got through, I was told it had to be organised through my GP's surgery, and  by the time I managed to speak to someone there, all the available "slots for shots" had gone. I was, to say the least, a trifle disappointed! 

However, the Receptionist at the surgery told me not to worry; more slots were being released, and were usually sent out on Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. Armed with this information, I kept my mobile phone close by me at all times, ready for any incoming messages.

A few days later - on the Wednesday - another message pinged into the inbox, inviting me to book an appointment; this time it was much easier. I had a choice of two - very close - venues, at either St Thomas's Hospital or Guy's Hospital. Guy's is near London Bridge, which has on-going roadworks, whilst St Thomas's Hospital is on Westminster Bridge Road, where there are no problems, so that was clearer, that was the one I plumped for. I also had a much shorter reference number to enter and, within a couple of minutes, I had a slot booked for 3.45 p.m. the next day, with my second inoculation also entered for the same time, on 10 April. I was rather sorry there is now such a long delay between each dose, but as that is the time frame now chosen by the powers that be, we have to go with it. 

Wendy drove me to the Hospital, and it turned out to be a really positive experience. We found a good parking spot in the underground car park, and walked up, fully masked and gloved, into the hospital. Apart from Hospital staff, there was a lot of army personnel on duty as well, and they were so helpful and efficient.  I'd been given two minor pieces of misinformation: the inoculations were being held in and area called "Westminster 1" and one nurse said I needed to take the lift to the first floor, walk along the corridor to the end, where I would find it. As I walked along, I checked with another member of staff, and she said I definitely had to be on the ground floor, because I was actually walking along to the endoscopy suite - oh, dear! That was clearly wrong, so back I went to the ground floor, and walked along outside until I reached a Marquee labelled "Westminster 1", where I queued up. Happily, the afternoon wasn't too cold to be out of doors, because when I reached the head of the queue, the lady taking down names was extremely apologetic, but had to tell me, there were in fact two centres, both called "Westminster 1"! and the one I needed was in the Gassiot Centre. 

Apart from these hiccups, in the end it all went extremely well. At the Gassiot Centre, I was definitely on their list, and progressed through to the waiting room and then to another area where I answered a questionnaire about my current health and any allergies, etc; when everything was considered to be hunky-dory, a prescription was issued for me to have the Pfizer vaccine and a short while later I was sitting in the little vaccination room - somewhat trepidatiously, as I am definitely trypanophobic! - and being reassured by the delightful lady who was ready to administer the dose. 

I had already taken the precaution of smothering both my upper arms with Emla Cream - an amazing anaesthetic cream that really works! The nurse agreed it was a brilliant idea, and there I sat, feeling reasonably calm and confident, even to the point that I sang whilst she did her work; I did not feel a thing.

I had to sit quietly in another area for a little while, to make sure I hadn't developed a severe reaction, but I was fine, and Wendy drove me home.

The only side-effect I had, which started after a couple of hours, was a heavy arm; it was as if I had a bag of cement attached to it, but that lasted for only a day, and didn't stop me doing anything I wanted to do. 

It is such a relief to know that at least I will now start to develop some resistance to the virus. We all continue to be careful; we obey all the regulations and everything we can do to help to stop the virus spreading will benefit us all in the long run.  

Pushkin's Progress

 Pushkin's Progress

We are now three weeks into the New Year and so happy to have Pushkin still with us. 

We take one day at a time and, since she improved so much since New Year's Day, enjoy every minute of her company. 

After her last visit to the vets two weeks ago, we were told that after that session they were not prepared  to put Pushkin on more oxygen again, as it was not helping her, and they thought there were more underlying problems they could not identify, so we had to accept that they felt Pushkin was no longer treatable. It was a hard decision to arrive at, but we would never let her suffer in any way, and determined to give her the best loving attention as possible in the meantime. 

And then Pushkin started to improve. 

Bob sat with her on his knee for hours, as this is where she found respite from all her breathing problems; with her head on one side, whilst he brushed her fur, or just read a book, she slept peacefully. He was like her special nurse, and "love-bombed" her whenever she needed it. I am an owl, and go to bed quite late, so I would do the early hours of the morning shift; although I am not her first choice, she also settled down with me as well. She also started to eat more, and from feeling as though we were picking up a very thin, bony pussy cat, now as we lift her up, she definitely feels a little plumper. 

She seems to be much more contented, and enjoying going for her little ambles out on the patio, making sure everything she remembers is still in place, and when she comes in, she likes to have a bite to eat. She is eating whatever she fancies, and we are still tempting her appetite - she has always been rather a picky eater! - but  it seems to be working well enough and we make sure there is always something fresh that she likes.

Pushkin is a very elderly lady, and we want her to enjoy the autumn of her years. We are not in a rush to say goodbye, and as long as she continues to go gently along as she is, we are happy and grateful for this extra time with her.

 

Down A Musical Memory Lane

Down A Musical Memory Lane

Right up to the end of her life, Mum could - and did - sing. She could reach the high notes better than I could, and recently snatches of melodies and refrains of old songs I remember her singing when I was little, have been coming back to me. Sometimes she mixed up the words a bit, but the basics were all there!  

A couple of songs have been especially insistent in my mind and I can still hear her voice in my head: 

It’s a Grand Night for Singing

It's a grand night for singing,
The moon is flying high,
And somewhere a bird
Who is bound he'll be heard
Is throwing his heart at the sky! 

It's a grand night for singing,
The stars are bright above.
The earth is a-glow
And to add to the show,
I think I am falling in love!
Falling, falling in love. 

It's a grand night for singing,
The moon is flying high,
And somewhere a bird
Who is bound he'll be heard,
Is throwing his heart at the sky!

Maybe it's more than the moon,
Maybe it's more than the birds,
Maybe it's more than sight of the night,
In a light too lovely for words. 

Maybe it's more than the earth
Shiny in silvery blue.
Maybe the reason I'm feeling this way
Has something to do with you! 

It's a grand night for singing,
The moon is flying high,
And somewhere a bird... 

This is from the Film State Fair, that came out in 1945, so perhaps Mum saw it in England before I was born. The song certainly stayed with her ever afterwards.

This next song was recorded by Vera Lynn in 1936, when she was 19 years old; my Mum would have been 16 years old, possibly 17, and it was one of the earliest songs I remember her singing to me when I was a baby:

Up the Wooden Hill to Bedfordshire

Up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire
Heading for the land of dreams
When I look back to those happy childhood days
Like yesterday it seems
It was grand my mother held my hand
Daddy was the old gee gee
The old wooden hill was the old wooden stairs
And Bedfordshire a cot where I knelt to say my prayers
Climbing up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire
They were happy, happy days for me.

Last night I dreamt about the place where I was born
The village school, the winding lane, the fields of waving corn
Seems that dream brought memories to me
My childhood days in fanciness I could see
When the sun had gone to rest and I was tired of play
Dad would put me on his back and then to me he'd say:

Up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire... (repeat)

Mum sang this to me so often in East Africa when I was little, and she had to explain how the line about going "up the wooden hill" actually meant climbing the stairs up to the bedroom. I didn’t know about stairs then, as all the houses in Dar-es-Salaam were bungalows, but she gave me the idea of how lovely and cosy such a routine could be. 

When you hear the flowing melodies and reassuring lyrics, I think it is unsurprising they stay in our memories so easily, and I do wonder sometimes what children who have born in more recent years will remember of the songs sung to them. Will disco, rap and heavy metal endure, or will the gentle ballads remain somewhere in the background, ready for a renaissance? Will romance in music return for young couples? Or, in years to come, will they be saying, "Oh, listen, darling, they're playing our tune!" when some deeply repetitive hit (that you could  never sing along to) from their own "way back when" time, is played on some future edition of Top of the Pops? 

Christmas 2020 and New Year Celebrations - Seeing in 2021

 Christmas 2020 and New Year Celebrations - Seeing in 2021

With all the restrictions brought about by the new strain of the virus, only Wendy could come over for Christmas Day as she is in our "bubble." It meant there were just three of us, but that was enough, and Wendy was very happy to see Pushkin as well. 

We might have been only three celebrating Christmas this year, but we had a lovely time; having Pushkin home was such a blessing, and she was well. 

Wendy could stay only for the day, but we absolutely made the most of it. I was jolly glad she could come over, because she was the one who had ordered the fresh turkey and without Wendy, we would have had no Christmas dinner! As soon as she arrived, it was all hands to the pump, preparing the turkey and into the oven for a slow roast.  

I can never understand why some people get panicky about the Christmas dinner; yes, it is a bit more work, but not that much more, and it's the oven doing the cooking, not me! I make a few checks on the bird over the time, but that isn't onerous, and a few extra minutes peeling a few extra veg is not too difficult, either. Wendy loves fresh Brussels sprouts and bought two "trees" of them -  I just pulled off what we wanted. I am not that much of a fan of Brussels sprouts myself, but if I am to have them at all, these very fresh mini cabbages are the ones to choose.

We had time to exchange gifts and open presents from all our loved ones, and lovely friends from all over the world. People are so kind and thoughtful and then, for the first time in a very long time, we actually watched the Queen's speech when it was broadcast at 3.00 p.m.  She had such pertinent and moving words for everyone; a very inclusive speech, emphasising our Christian faith, but encompassing all faiths as well, and reminding us to have hope.

Pushkin fared well over Christmas; we were so happy she was still with us. 

The days following Christmas were gentle; I rang friends and relations, or wrote to them, thanking them for the lovely presents they had sent us, and we simply pottered through the week to New Year's Eve.

 There have been other years when we could not be together on 31st December - either because of work, or distance - but this year was the first when we could not be together due to the outside influence of the virus, and it needed some imagination to get the best out of it.

Most people who know me, are aware I am not the most computer literate of people, but Al and Wendy came up with the great idea of  linking us all together on a video call. 

At about 11.50 p.m. on New Year's Eve,  Al rang me on one of Wendy's old mobiles, that she has given to me, as it has a WhatsApp facility. Once we were connected and could see each other, Al then rang Wendy and voila! there we were, in our three separate areas, but all linked together through the wonders of modern technology. It wasn't quite as good as being together in person and linking arms at midnight for Auld Lang Syne, but we could still sing, and it made such a difference to be able to see Wendy and Al, albeit in their different locations. We talked until half past midnight, making a good start to the New Year. 

Friday, 1 January 2021

We had had an imaginative start to the New Year at midnight! After our phone call, I stayed up a while longer, giving Pushkin a love and a brush whilst she sat on my knee, and she was contented. I also rang two friends abroad, and wished them a Happy New Year, before I went to bed. 

During the day, we noticed Pushkin's problems had returned, with wheezing and open-mouth breathing; she looked like the Metro Goldwyn Meyer lion roaring, so heavily was she breathing.  I rang our local vet and they said we should bring her straight to the surgery, where she was given another session of oxygen therapy. We felt we were lurching from one day to another, but again Pushkin proved her mettle by improving to be well enough for us to bring her home later that afternoon. 

Another 48 hours went by, and we were back at the surgery once more. This time, because we could not get her to take any pills, Pushkin was given an injection of antibiotics, and another injection to stimulate her appetite, as well as another session of oxygen therapy  

The vet also told us something that we probably should have realised all along, but somehow or other had passed us by: Cats won't eat if they can't smell their food, and if Pushkin's nose is all clogged up, she won't be able to smell anything much. The vet suggested we try some really strong-smelling food, like pilchards or sardines, and see how Pushkin takes to it. 

How is it, we didn't think of this earlier? It makes so much sense, for even humans go off their food if their ability to smell and taste is compromised.   

Once she got back home, Pushkin immediately seemed perkier. She jumped out of her carry case, and had her tail up. The next stop was to buy tins of pilchards for her; there was nothing available in brine, only tomato sauce, which we washed off. and the minute Pushkin got a whiff of a delicious aroma coming her way, she was right into her dinner. We kept the portions small, because as she had not eaten anything much for some days, we didn't want to overload her tummy. We kept up a steady stream of "a little and often," and it was a great moment to see not only the fish, but her prescribed pills disappearing as well. She drank more water, and we were so grateful for this change in her. 

She was also able to jump up onto the sofa of her own accord, which showed she must have been feeling stronger, and her breathing was quiet and normal.  

It made us glad we hadn't taken the decision too quickly to say an early good bye to her; we know the improvement may not last, but right now she is having a nice time, with so much love and cuddling. She has been sitting beside me, under the ironing board, and close enough for me to take off my shoes and tickle her ears with my toes, which she really loves - strange pussy cat! and as much time to lie on Bob's knees as she wants. Quite the best New Year's gift for us all. 

Pushkin Has Been Under The Weather

Pushkin Has Been Under The Weather

I started writing this piece in November 2020; since then, so much has happened, particularly with Pushkin's  health, it is only now - in the first week of January 2021 - I have been able to write something for the blog. 

Little Pushkin - lady-like, inoffensive, our little cat with no meow - has been "going through the mill" over the time leading up to Christmas, enduring more procedures in one week than I think she has had to bear in all her years. 

It started maybe six months or more ago, when we noticed sometimes she would sneeze a few times in quick succession; but then it would pass, and it seemed as though it was just something that had tickled her nose, perhaps a loose hair or something. Pushkin has a very thick double coat, which we brush very regularly, to stop her swallowing too much hair when she is busy washing and grooming herself. (I also enjoy a good sneeze - if I get a whiff of strong perfume, it can set me off and I can sneeze umpteen times until the smell has gone).

Then sometimes she had a little cough, but again, that passed quickly, and she was back to normal, eating regularly and purring for England.

Pushkin doesn't go out wandering in the garden; the most she does during the summer is sit on the roof of the little cat house on the patio, or on the bench and sunbathe - this she needs to produce the vitamin D that she then licks off her fur. Being older now, she also does not jump up on anything, and takes a very lady-like route up onto the bench or cat-house roof, via a low wall and chair!

With this new illness, she started wheezing and gasping, and it was clearly terribly distressing for her to be in that state, and very upsetting for us to see her like that. We took her straight to our local surgery, where all the vets know her from regular routine visits, and she was put into a special kennel, where she was given oxygen therapy. Later that afternoon, the vet rang us to say Pushkin was improving, and she could come home; we went to collect her. The vet brought Pushkin to us in her carrying case, but as he was telling us what medication she had been given, she started to wheeze and gasp for breath again and we realised she as she was no longer on oxygen, she was not well enough to come back home with us. Because our vet's surgery does not have monitoring overnight, Pushkin could not be left in the oxygen kennel until the morning, and our vet didn't hesitate; he said we should take her to Wylie Vets, which is a surgery that is staffed 24 hours, 7 days a week, and where Pushkin could be looked after for as long as necessary, and be on oxygen overnight. He said Pushkin could also have more sophisticated tests there, to find out what the problem was. 

We drove straight to Wylie; she was swiftly admitted, placed on oxygen again, and we gave permission for her to have x-rays and blood tests. By then it was gone 9.00 p.m., but the vets said they would phone us later and let us know how Pushkin was faring. We were happy for them to call us at any time and, true to their word, a vet rang us after midnight to give a progress report: Pushkin had settled in alright, and was breathing better on oxygen. 

Over the next 48 hours, Pushkin was tested for everything they could think of. They felt it would be helpful if she had a CT scan, which would have to be done at another, even more highly equipped veterinary surgery called Southfields, and other tests could also be undertaken there as well.  

We collected Pushkin, and drove her to Southfields; the poor little thing must have wondered where she was going to be taken next, but we knew she was in good hands. 

The CT scan was done, along with investigations up her nose, which showed a small blood clot lodged there; they were able to remove it, and sent tissue samples for histology. The only thing we didn't go for was a lung wash, as we were told that was very invasive, and there was concern about how much Pushkin could stand. 

Pushkin's illness was really perplexing the vets at Southfields as well. All the results came back with no definite diagnosis; there was the possibility of a lungworm infection, although that was thought to be unlikely, and the main diagnosis was feline asthma. Pushkin was given a long-lasting dose of cortisone by injection; we were given antibiotics for her as well, and at  last we were able to bring her home again.  

To begin with, Pushkin accepted the pills wrapped up in a little bit of ham, but she soon got wise to that,  and refused to take them. Next, we tried crushing them up and putting them in the jelly in her food, but Pushkin is not daft, and could eat her way around anything, leaving the pills behind. 

Ten days before Christmas, Pushkin began to breath ever more heavily - rasping, breathing through her mouth, abdominal breathing, her little sides going in and out. Back we went to the vet, and she had another long-lasting cortisone injection, that would hopefully go on for four weeks.

For the first week, Pushkin was a different pussy cat! Tail up, ears up, eating well, doing her little walks round the patio - absolutely normal and lovely! - but then, just before Christmas, it seemed we were back to square one, with Pushkin struggling to breathe. We didn't pause, but went straight back to Wylie vets with her. 

Again, Pushkin was kept in, and placed on oxygen, and the vet prescribed a bronchodilator medication - it comes in capsules, and for her weight, Pushkin needed 1/3 of a capsule. The vet was very understanding, but equally clear: if Pushkin is mouth breathing, and gasping, it is terribly stressful for her, and it would not be right or kind to keep her going like that. 

In that immediate moment, we said we would be grateful if we could get her home, even if only for a day or so, to spend a little more time with her; but that we understood we would not allow Pushkin to suffer, and would bring her back if necessary. 

This brought us up to Christmas Eve, and very aware of the fact Pushkin was so unwell, we watched her even moment; but then she took a turn for the better, and we were so relieved it had proved to be the right decision to bring her home.

We had a happy, gentle family Christmas - much reduced this year, of course, but that was fine by us. We are very mindful and accepting of all the restrictions, and we are patient and will stick to the rules for as long as necessary, but we kept in touch with everyone by WhatsApp and phone and, in a strange sort of way, precisely because of all the difficulties, being able to have that contact was very special. We  must appreciate the positives in life; and another great positive was that Pushkin was home, and part of the celebrations.