This morning I took our ailing cat, O’Shea, to the vet. Claudia took her in three weeks ago when she seemed at death’s door and we discovered that her thyroid had gone bad. Today the vet told me that she’d set a record for the clinic at a 21 when the regular cat is at 2 or 3. The vet told me it was like putting a car in neutral then stepping on the gas. Darned if I know what the numbers represent but we’ve been giving O’Shea half a pill a day since. She’s gotten a little perkier but the vets had to draw more blood to monitor how she’s reacting to the pills. She was so fearful that they only got half of what they needed so they’ll only be able to do one of two blood tests that she needs.
We stopped taking her to the vet regularly years ago because she’s so ornery. The vet suggested that we go back to doing what we used to do, sedate her, before we try getting more blood. In the meantime they will check her white cell count and we will just have to hope that we can get a reading on how much juice her thyroid is kicking out later. On the plus side she’s gained two ounces of the four pounds she’d lost at her last weighing.
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