Thirteen-year-old Aremid may be approaching the end of his life. I am wondering if I am being irresponsible by not taking him to the emergency vet.

Over the past 48 hours, he’s spent most of his time under the bed. He has rarely spent time there in the past. Typically, he will enthusiastically come to me when I call him. He’s remained stoically in meatloaf position under the bed when I have tried to coax him. Perhaps the most worrisome sign is that, when I have managed to get him out from under the bed, he seems to have absolutely no appetite. The treats which, in recent weeks, he had been devouring when placed in front of him, he now merely sniffs at.

He has supposedly had hyperthyroidism, but medication has not led to a needed weight gain recent months. However, he’s still been active, still getting to the top of the bookcase on occasion for food, still engaging in random sprints around the house.

Perhaps I’ll give it one more night and bring him to the emergency vet in the morning. Of course, I’ll feel awful if I’ve waited too long.

Perhaps it’s just screwy thinking on my part, but I’d so much rather he pass away at home then be put to sleep at an emergency vet clinic. But if he’s hiding under the bed, he’s probably very uncomfortable, and I’m prolonging his pain.

I know that pet illnesses that lead to loss of life can come on suddenly. 48 hours is probably 24 hours too long to have waited.

But I’m also not sure if the emergency vet would give him the best care. I think I have one of the absolutely best cat veterinarians there is, Dr. Wendy Simpson of Morrisville Cat Hospital. I’m thinking that I’ll simply drop Aremid off there on Monday morning.

Aremid tonight, briefly coaxed out from under the bed

I do not expect I will post in here again in the near future. While it may not seem it, I have mostly steered clear of depression-centric posts. There are few topics more awkward than someone’s “battle” with depression. It’s a battle I have never won, so there is no incentive for an audience to become invested in my accounts. I don’t know how similar depression is to other ailments as far as people who have never been afflicted by it having no idea how to deal with it in someone else. But that’s how I have experienced it for years and years. Therapists and medications have provided safety nets but no durable strategies. No one seems to know how to treat the interplay of physical disease and depression. The bottom line is that I continue to encounter new rock bottoms.

And in a clear “jump the shark” blogging episode, I will share my rock bottom experience. I do not expect comments (and they’ll be turned off) nor do I expect emails or phone calls. I don’t know if and when I will feel up to returning any communications that I might receive. I am aware that I risk alienation of whomever is left out there whom I have not yet driven away.

I do not have any recollection of recording this video back on Friday night. It will be apparent why that is the case. I probably got sick before I got around to posting it. Since my head is somewhat clearer now, it would seem imprudent to post the video now. But I’ve convinced myself I’ll get some closure out of it.

I am sorry for disappointing anyone who may have previously thought better of me.

I don’t care at all………….

Full frontal…

My nephrologist left me a voicemail today. I figured he had something significant to say when I first realized he had called. The only other time I remember him calling me on a weekend or evening was back in February 2008 when, while I awaited a flight back to North Carolina from Newark, New Jersey, he told me the results of my latest bloodwork showed a significant rise in my creatinine level, and that I ought to get to the ER. (It still took a another two weeks to determine that I had had a kidney stone blockage).

Anyway, today’s news wasn’t quite as dramatic, though it does signal another stage in this long road to kidney failure. I can now attribute my constant fatigue to something measurable and perhaps treatable. I’ve become anemic, or at least what I recall from the voicemail is that my hemoglobin has dropped quite significantly from the slightly-below-normal level that it used to be at.

It would be nice if a couple of iron pills would take care of this, but the treatment is to get a shot every few weeks. I haven’t felt like listening to the details of the message again today. It’s likely that most people reading this with any familiarity with anemia know what these shots are all about, but I don’t know right now. I am aware that learning to give them to myself is an option. I gave my cat Zellouisa insulin shots for a year or so awhile back, but I’m not sure if I’ll be up opting to give myself the shots, particularly since I live so close to the hospital, and so it won’t be a terrible inconvenience to go in for them.

As for dialysis, my creatinine is steady at 6.8, meaning it’s been below 7.0 for several months now. That’s “good”; kidneys at 10-11% as opposed to 8-9%, and that’s a big enough difference to keep me off of dialysis for now.

“Anemic” pretty much describes how I’ve felt for quite awhile overall, in every facet of my life. Maybe these shots will help.

On a lighter note…

(I meant to post this on Sunday night; just realized I had left it as a draft).

I normally don’t want to touch the abortion issue, but just a stupid question.

Scott Roeder, the suspect in the killing of Dr. George Tiller, has told the AP:

I know there are many other similar events planned around the country as long as abortion remains legal.

What’s the difference between this statement and the ridiculous “ticking bomb” scenario that right-wing zealots claim as the rationale for torture? Should we not be water-boarding Mr. Roeder right now in order to get valuable information from him that would prevent imminent terrorist attacks and murder?

I have two cats. But one of them pees outside of the litter box when it’s not clean enough for him, which is often.

I have a dog. But I don’t get him enough exercise. I probably should have gotten a fence put up in the backyard for him, but I decided a new car for myself was more important.

I have a stable job. I do IT work. But I don’t really like what I do, and I don’t know where I see myself in five years.

I don’t know what I’d try to do for a living if I could do anything.

I don’t really know what I like to do for fun.

I have strong political beliefs, generally very liberal, but I generally just rant with mean-spirited, sarcastic humor on the internet rather than actively working to do anything on behalf of causes I care about.

I don’t cook. This is mostly because I never feel up to cleaning up anything.

I want to go hiking…but I never go.

I want to dance…but I never dance.

I want to go see documentary films…but I never go.

I want to go to LocoPops…but I never go.

I want to learn something new…but I never learn anything.

I just kinda sit and let life pass me by. I don’t live life to the fullest.

So I have this chronic illness, too…it gets in the way a bit. But that is such a bullshit excuse, and I know it.

But, really, I’m actually a lot of fun to be around. Except that I’m probably not.

So…write me…we should hang out!