cat fashion statement
Our recovering diabetic is not having a good weekend. She’s licking and chewing on her back legs until they’re raw. But if we gave her steroids to deal with those problems, we could send her pancreas into a tailspin. So we’re stuck with the bad fashion statement and letting her back leg heal over the next couple of weeks. So, instead of begging me for food, now she’s bumping into walls and furniture.
Maybe she’ll be speaking to me again by Monday. . . unless she sees this picture on my blog!
Lizzy, the cat with 'tude and a persnickety pancreas
Cheering for an animal’s organs makes up one of my many badges of geekdom.
In February I found out that Lizzy, one of my 10-year-old cats, had diabetes. Granted, I’d been getting the “fat cat lecture” from vets for almost five years. My black bundle of meows, attitude, klutziness, and a bottomless stomach was overweight. But her brother was normal weight, and I couldn’t figure out how to keep her from being the little glutton that she was (and is).
Lots of cats get diabetes, and I’m both a trained scientist and the daughter of a nurse. So I’ve been surrounded by big medical terms in some form for my entire life. What I really hate are needles (I never considered medical school for that very reason). Logically I knew this was a manageable disease– I needed to monitor her glucose and give her insulin shots. Realistically, this was a living creature who squirms, and she was depending on me to somehow get that insulin inside her.
The vet also held out a carrot of hope– that a percentage of cats reasonable percentage of cats recover. So, if we were careful– kept her glucose under control, and changed her diet– that she might just snap out of it. What? Snap out of diabetes? It seemed too good to be true. Continue reading