I Blame George (He Blames Me)

George is one of my cats. He is 20lbs of lean, black-and-white naughtiness. However he is handsome and has a personality, so he get away with murder. 

Last Sunday, when Joe, the animals and I were enjoying a weekend without the blue-eyed members of the family (i.e. Himself and Grace), we noticed that George's foot was bleeding. We took him to the vet. He had torn one of his claws way back near the quick. It was clipped and cauterized and he was sent home, bandaged and only slightly subdued.

George managed to get his bandage off twice. The second time I left it alone, as the paw seemed fine, and he seemed happier without it, anyway.

So yesterday I was to take him for a checkup.  George however, had other ideas and when I tried to put him into his carrier, he put up a show of passive resistance that could have taught Mahatma Gandhi a thing or two. Eventually I got him in, but despite best efforts on both our parts, I ended up with an 8" scratch on my stomach.

When we got to the animal hospital, The vet took one look at George and said "I thought you said it was the left paw?" 

"It is the le...  Oh."

Georges right paw was bloodied up.  He had apparently broken another nail in the struggle to get him
into the carrier.  So he was carted off to the back to get that nail cauterized, and I had visions of this becoming a never-ending loop; with George breaking a new nail every time he needed to get the previous one checked...

While waiting, I started to feel dizzy and sick, so I sat down. By the time the vet and tech returned with George, I was feeling pretty awful. 
"Are you OK"
"No"
And I had a seizure on the floor of the vets examining room (less comfortable. but more room than the rheumatologist's examination room, BTW). 

It was quite interesting listening to the vet on the phone with the 911 dispatcher, who seemed to lack some imagination. "Yes. We need an ambulance to the animal hospital... ...No, no... This is the animal hospital.  We need the ambulance sent here.  Yes, for a person, not an animal.  No she doesn't work here. She is a client. She came in with her cat...  ...she had a seizure ...no,  not the cat.  The lady. The lady had a seizure and she needs an ambulance.  Now! (I had another one)"

So poor George had to stay in the vet's office while I was carted off in an ambulance.   They broke the series in the ER and I was sent home after receiving several tests I didn't need (and I TOLD them I didn't need them.  Would they listen?    noooooo...).

I don't know how much Ativan they gave me, but I slept for about 18 hours after I got home. George is still not speaking to me.  He blames me.

I totally blame him.  Even if I was going to have the seizure anyway: without him, it would have been in the comfort and privacy of me own home, with no ER trips.

Silly cat.

Comments

[yanub]

Cat. Seizures. Will I go there? No. Too easy.

I wonder if the vet has any insights into what happened as you began seizing. What with vets needing to rely on observation rather than asking questions and then ignoring the answers, maybe they notice things people doctors don't.

Seems strange that the dispatcher would be confused about sending an ambulance to an animal hospital. Critters is dangerous. Maybe yours only does pets? The ones around here do livestock, and you can bet that sometimes the animals do send the people to the hospital.

[One Sick Mother]

Yanub,

I thought the same thing, But no. The vet (one of the young, new guys) didn't really think there was anything wrong until it was REALLY wrong, and then he seemed pretty freaked out to have a patient who could talk! He stammered out the usual question about what medication I am taking for seizures (none) and expressed the usual shock when I answered that question thus.

We are in the heart of suburbia here. It is all cats and dogs and maybe the occasional bird or rodent. They did have a tiger patient in the past but there were complaints to the town and the tiger was shipped off to a sanctuary somewhere. I don't think he mauled anyone (here)...

But in fairness to the dispatcher: I suspect he started work on the 1st and everyone took off for the holiday weekend, leaving him holding the bag...