That’s Enough Crises For Now, Thanks World.

Tags

bad days, bad weeks, cars, health, parenting

They say bad things come in threes.

Two weeks ago, I checked my phone after a busy day at work only to discover a string of texts and missed calls from Perfect Husband, first telling me about stabbing stomach pains, then mentioning a trip to the walk in clinic, followed by a trip to the emergency room, followed by updates saying that he was being given Oxycontin and that they wanted to do a CAT scan.

Later, when I asked him why he hadn’t called my work instead of my cell, he said “well, I figured that if you weren’t checking your texts it must be really busy…”

HMM. What is more important? A string of dogs with torn dewclaws, or your HUSBAND BEING IN THE HOSPITAL?

So anyway, I rushed to Owl’s daycare, picked him up and drove to North Vancouver. There a friend of PH’s met me and took Owl to her house so I could sit with PH.

We had about an hour to wait after his CAT scan for the results. A busy doctor bustled up to him and said “PH? You have *gobbledegook word*. Which is nothing. But it hurts a lot!”

Fat For Thought, Or, In Which I Get Sarcastic About People Who Defend Fat-Shaming

Tags

bullying, children, concern troll, cyber bullying, diet, examples, exercise, fat, fat shaming, fitness, health, jennifer livingston, lifestyle, morality, news anchor, obesity, role models

Everyone’s talking about that overweight anchorwoman, Jennifer Livingston, who defended herself against a concern troll who emailed her.

Surely you don’t consider yourself a suitable example for this community’s young people, girls in particular. Obesity is one of the worst choices a person can make and one of the most dangerous habits to maintain. I leave you this note hoping that you’ll reconsider your responsibility as a local public personality to present and promote a healthy lifestyle.

Livingston called him out on-air and pointed out that fat people KNOW they are fat and don’t need it pointed out by random strangers, and asked him if he really thought that his rudeness set any better of an example.

So now the world is full of people applauding this woman for standing up for herself, while others go “but he’s right, you know.”

I had to listen to it on the radio this morning. The male DJ was totally behind Livingston, while the female DJ kept saying “yeah, but he had a point. I mean, would it be okay to have a fat children’s show host?”

It was all very Helen Lovejoy.

Won’t someone PLEASE think of the children?

Sure, Jennifer Livingston wasn’t smoking on tv, or guzzling potato chips while delivering local news, but she did commit the fairly sizeable (pun intended) crime of BEING FAT PUBLICLY.

Fat people, just by going on tv, looking fat, are telling our kids that it’s okay to look different from the anorexic models in the fashion magazines.

And we don’t want THAT, do we?

And, the woman DJ argued, what is wrong with a little concern trolling now and then? As she and many commenters on the Youtube clip point out:

a) The concern troll emailed her in a private email, so it’s not like he was mean to her in public, which is the important thing.

b) The email was written politely and didn’t use the word “fat”.

c) The emailer was just trying to help.

After all, aren’t we all morally obligated to offer help to someone who walks around being fat all the time?

a) Maybe they don’t know they’re fat, and need someone to tell them. It is entirely possible that they haven’t glanced in a mirror, looked down, or checked the size of their clothes in years.

b) If you don’t actually use the terms “fat”, “pig-like” or “tub o’ lard”, and as long as it is phrased politely, it is completely socially appropriate to go up to a stranger and suggest they reconsider their physical flaws.

c) Won’t someone PLEASE THINK OF THE CHILDREN?

There’s just a couple teeny little points, though, that I would like to add as fat-for-thought to the people who make these delightfully smug little arguments.

Dear History: Please Don’t Repeat Yourself, For The Love Of Beloved Dog

Tags

animals, bloodwork, cancer, cpl, dogs, health, limping, pancreatitis, pets, symptoms, tests, veterinarian

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I love my dog.

I love dogs, period.

When I was little I begged my parents for a dog. First they gave me goldfish, and when I managed to kill them off thoroughly they decided our family was ready for a pet that couldn’t be forgotten about.

His name was Shadow, and I adored him.

I mauled him about constantly and he tolerated my excessive affection with great forebearance. When I was 10 I trained him to walk nicely on a leash, and I worked very hard to teach him to play dead. He eventually would topple over from a “down” position with a big long-suffering sigh.

He adored my father, and when Shadow passed away, it was one of the only times ever saw my father cry.

As a child I spent a lot of time worrying that my parents would euthanize Shadow while I was off at University. Unfortunately, when he was 8 years old he had several large fatty tumors removed.

Shortly after, he began to limp.

The vets couldn’t find a thing wrong with his feet. After a lot of medications on his paws had failed, a biopsy revealed that his liver was excreting toxins through his sweat glands in his paws, causing the discomfort.

Within a few more months he had wasted away.

He died on the same day as Princess Diana.

His loss hit me hard. I loved him deeply, and I grieved his loss in a way that I have never grieved the loss of a human being. 8 years after he died, I woke up from a bad dream about him, and when I realized that it was a dream, I burst into tears – because my dog was dead.

When I graduated university, I got a new dog. I specifically picked a sheltie who was a different colour than Shadow, so I wouldn’t feel like I was “replacing” him.

That dog healed eight years of pain in a few short weeks. I no longer cry for Shadow. I love him in memory, but memories of him no longer cause me pain.

They’re nice memories.

Beloved Dog is now 8 years old, and I don’t know where the time went. It seems like the 8 years between Shadow’s arrival in our family and his painful exit were very, very long. But Beloved Dog was a puppy mere minutes ago.

Beloved Dog has started to limp.

This, combined with a couple of other nebulous symptoms that my friend The Farm Fairy clubs under the heading of “Ain’t Doin’ Right”, led me to take him to work with me and say,

My dog is limping. I need you to tell me that he doesn’t have cancer.

I got a laugh from people, but not when the vet looked at my dog.

My boss found that he looks anemic, but his bloodwork says he’s not anemic. She found that his abdomen seems painful, but he isn’t vomiting or having any diarrhea. His blood chemistries indicate normally functioning organs.

Except for one.

The spec cpl test is specifically designed to test dogs for pancreatitis. Normally panreatitis is an insanely painful condition brought about by fatty diet and not enough exercise, and is indicated by vomiting, diarrhea, and sheer misery.

My boss suggested it because it was all she could think of to explain the discomfort in his tummy, and because if there was inflammation in his organs, it might explain why he looks so pale.

It came back indicating pancreatitis.

So I fasted him for 24 hours, fed him on white rice for three days, and kept Owl and his fistfuls of cheese well away from Beloved Dog. I retested him for pancreatitis and it came back abnormal AGAIN.

So I changed his already low-fat diet to a corn-free diet, feeding him dehydrated fish with fruits and vegetables. I added digestive enzymes to his food.

He doesn’t look old, does he?

His paws began to show sores from his constant licking and chewing.

I took him in again yesterday, and the other vet, who has a very good ear, identified a mild heart murmur. Is that new, or is it so mild than no other vet has ever spotted it before?

The other vet, who reminds me of a Hank Azaria character, also thinks Beloved Dog looks anemic. He insisted on rechecking the red blood cell count.

Normal.

We rechecked him for pancreatitis.

Abnormal.

WHAT IS GOING ON?

I’ve sent his blood to the lab to get a more detailed report. They’ll be able to tell me whether my dog’s pancreas are just a LITTLE funky or a LOT FUNKY.

I’m trying to tell myself that just because Beloved Dog is the same age, and showing some of the same symptoms, does NOT mean the Beloved Dog has cancer.

It doesn’t help that my Aunt is dying of cancer. I’m flying home on an emergency visit to see her again, because apparently she’s wasting away fast.

It doesn’t help that today is Shadow’s birthday, or would have been, if he had lived to be 24 years old.

I just need Beloved Dog to be okay.

He says he just needs me to take off this damn cone.

I Bet No One Has Ever Had THIS Diaper Problem Before

Tags

babies, child care, child development, cloth diapers, diapers, disposable diapers, health, toddlers

Our baby has no bum.

When rear ends were being handed out, Owl was at the back of the line, or possibly not even in the building. I sometimes wonder whether the reason he hovers in the 10th percentile is simply because other babies have bums.

Normally, we don’t really notice our child’s complete lack of buttocks. His cloth diapers are thick and bulky, and they hold his pants up very well, while also providing a nice cushion for landing on.

^artificial bum

But when we travel, and we put him in disposables, we REALLY NOTICE. First of all, when he topples over he is much more likely to cry, as there is very little padding to protect his wee tail bone. Secondly, his pants DON’T STAY ON.

It’s really quite ridiculous. We had to pin all of his pants at the waist to keep them on when we went home for Christmas, and my mother in law had to actually hem and alter the pants on his little suit that my mother gave him – it was a 12 month size and he was 15 months old but WE HAD TO ALTER HIS PANTS.

Altered pants: STILL TOO BIG

Even then, the pants didn’t stay on well.

When Owl is in disposables, even the pants that are normally too snug on him hang down until he looks like a little gangster.

Owl in disposables

There’s simply no way to keep them on, because he has no waist for them to hang on. His body tapers from the shoulders like a carrot.

and this is in a swim diaper, which is still pretty bulky

But we never considered that we might actually be causing his bum deficiency.

We were shown the error of our ways by the Helper Lady at Owl’s daycare.

I picked Owl up a couple of days ago and found him wearing a disposable diaper.

“Helper Lady put him in that, and I didn’t have the energy to argue with her,” said Daycare Lady. “She asked me to pass on a message to you, because her English isn’t good enough for her to explain it to you in person.”

“Oh?”

“She thinks that his cloth diapers are the cause of his diaper rash.”

“You mean the diaper rash that started when we tried using wet wipes on him, and that has been clearing up ever since we went back to cotton wipes and water?”

“Yes. It’s looking a lot better. Um, she also wanted me to tell you that she thinks that the cloth diapers are constricting his bottom, and that’s why it’s so small.”

“…what?”

“She thinks that they don’t breathe properly, and they are snug on him, and that’s keeping his bottom from growing as fast as his top part…”

Guess who has two thumbs and a corset on his bum? THIS BABY

“…REALLY?”

“You’re lucky she doesn’t speak English! She used to be a high school teacher! She’s very DEFINITE about her views!”

I brought Owl back to daycare in a cloth diaper the next day anyway, but if anyone knows a website where I can find information about the risks of disposable diapers or the benefits of cloth diapers in Farsi, I’d greatly appreciate it.

Meanwhile, I need to think about warning Happy Nappy about this unanticipated effect of their diapers on infant bum development.

Because apparently baby bums are like goldfish: they only grow if given a roomy enough container.

WHO KNEW?

Feed Your Pet Vet Food, Or You Will Pay… Literally.

Tags

animal health, animal nutrition, bladder infections, cats, dogs, Feline Lower Urinary Tract Disease, FLUTD, health, nutrition, pet health, pet nutrition, pets, uroliths, veterinarian, veterinary diets

After reading about poor KellyKel’s cat on the DoCo, I feel the need to make this post.

Please feed your pet veterinary diets.

Especially if you own a boy cat.

There is startlingly little regulation of pet foods, and some of the ingredients in pet store and grocery store pet foods are frankly harmful to your pet. Cats especially are at risk because their health is very delicately balanced on their diet. Cats eat a very high protein diet, and this is rough on the urinary tract system. If a cat lives to be 20, one day its kidneys will wear out and that will be that.

Cat’s bladders tend to develop crystals when the pH balance of a food is even slightly off. The crystals scratch the bladder wall and bacteria begin to grow. This is called Feline Lower Urinary Tract Disease. Vets refer to it as FLUTD (“Flutey”). It can happen to dogs, too, although it is rarer. Still, I have seen it! The crystals end up getting stuck together in that mass of crystals and blood and bacteria and white blood cells and they end up making a little stone. Sometimes (particularly with neutered male cats because their urethras are narrow) that stone gets lodged in the urethra and blocks the passage of urine.

From that moment on your cat has maybe 24 hours to live. Unable to pass urine, the toxins back up in the animal’s system and begin to kill your pet. Your pet will die either from the poisons that they can’t get rid of, or their bladder will BURST inside them. It’s painful. It’s deadly. It’s COMMON.

This isn’t something that is fairly rare. It’s something that actually fairly likely. If you walked into your local vet clinic and said “do you have a blocked cat in the back?” chances are they would say “yes,” and if it’s a big clinic, chances are they will say “yes, which one are you looking for?”  You want to scare a vet clinic? Call them and say “my cat isn’t peeing”.

There are a million reasons why a cat will get crystals. Stress is a factor. Dehydration is another (it is more common in cats who are eating dry food and don’t like drinking water)… and diet is yet another.

Many diets are poorly pH balanced. Not just your cheap grocery store foods (although they are the worst offenders) but expensive pet store foods, too. Being pricey doesn’t make it good, or safe. I have seen several pets come in with crystals caused by food, and they were eating a (WET!) high-end pet store product, boasting all-natural ingredients.

Pet owners look for phrases like “all natural!” “grain free!” “No additives!” “with fibre!” “with real chicken!” and so on.

They never think to look for “with a balanced pH for your pet’s urinary tract health.”

But if you have a male neutered cat, that is exactly what you should look for, because when your cat blocks, you have a choice. A vet bill totalling nearly $1000 or more… or a dead cat. If you choose “dead cat” you still have to choose between your cat dying in extreme agony or paying for a euthanasia.

It’s a bad scene.

Why does it cost so much to unblock a cat?

First you have to sedate the cat, because sticking a catheter up a blocked urethra into a bladder that is as turgid as an over-filled balloon is hideously painful AND difficult.

Then you have to keep it sedated until waking it up is no longer a cruel thing to do.

Then you have to give it antibiotics for the infection, and blood tests to see how badly poisoned the cat is.

Then you have to keep that catheter in its urethra for several days, draining the bladder of its brown or red infected pee.

You also have to keep the cat on drugs to relax the bladder so it won’t go into excruciating spasms.

…and that’s if the case isn’t too bad.

You may have to operate to get a larger stone from inside. This is more common with dogs. Check it out (yes, this is from my OWN experience, these aren’t pics off of the web):

Yeah, that big white thing? That's a stone. IN A DOG. A female bearded collie if I remember right.

IT WAS IN A DOG'S BLADDER

Sometimes they can’t unblock it. Then they have to cut off the cat’s penis. This is not a choppy-chop operation, because you’ll screw up the urethra if you do that. It’s delicate surgery, and often one that vets don’t like to do – they’d rather call in a specialist or at least a vet who has experience with them. You basically do a sex change operation on the damn cat, so it pees like a girl. That’s REALLY frigging expensive. It’s a long operation, so there are sedation drugs and anesthetics and veterinary time (I’ve seen three vets all pending over one of these surgeries). There’s the long recovery, too.

It sucks.

So… you can feed your pet a diet from the pet store and hope for the best… or you can buy a veterinary diet because all veterinary lines are pH balanced to prevent such problems.

A veterinary diet for a healthy animal isn’t even that expensive. They have high quality ingredients (my favourite brand, Medi-Cal, is all naturally preserved, too) and research-driven formulas and they never change the recipe without warning you (which other brands do all the time).

Your pet will poop less on a veterinary diet because there aren’t any fillers (unless, of course, you buy a high fibre formula designed to make your pet poop more!) and you end up needing to feed a lot less because they are so highly concentrated. Veterinary diets often end up being CHEAPER than the cheap grocery store stuff, and that’s before the $1000 operation to save your cat.

Oh, and veterinary diets are 100% guaranteed.

Remember those pet food recalls? I know someone whose cats were eating the cheap stuff. One died, the other has permanent kidney damage. It took thousands of dollars to save it. The owner has never seen a dime from that company.

But the veterinary diets called our clinic and told us which formulas were tainted (and there weren’t many, because only a few specialty formulas had gluten in them at all). Then they told us to phone every client who bought those food in the last three months, and they would refund the money spent on food over that time frame. Then they paid to test each animal who ate those foods for signs of poisoning. Then they paid to fix the poisoned animals.

Next time you’re in your pet store, ask the clerk if your pet’s current brand of food guarantees their food that way.

Just in case.

Fail

Tags

depression, doctors, fail, health, Inanity abounds, medical records

So, remember how I had that great Nurse Practitioner? Well, the same time I got pregnant, she left the clinic I was attending and went to work at an AIDS clinic. She sent my files to an OB, and to the shrink at the Reproductive Mental Health Centre, to make sure I would get proper care. Only the shrink says she isn’t responsible for my prescription/dosage on Wellbutrin – she said a GP should be following that. The OB said the same thing. So I needed a GP.

Took me forever to find one, and she’s this timid little newbie East Indian/South African lady who has the enthusiasm of the young but the lack of confidence that comes with being completely inexperienced. I’ve seen her a couple times and she fails pretty hard at monitoring my depression. For one thing, the first time I saw her she handed me the Hamilton scale with the idea that I should fill it out myself.

To help her get a better baseline for my depression, I promised to get her my files.

This has been an odyssey of complete ridiculousness. First of all, getting my files away from the clinic where I saw my NP was like trying to wrest federal secrets from CSIS. I called twice and no one knew how I could do such an unconventional thing as that. I went down there and got sent to this bureaucratic library o’ files where I had to sign a bunch of paperwork to “release” my information to my GP. But they had difficulty with WHAT files they were supposed to send.

“All of them,” I said.

“Okay, so, like, we’ll send your test results and stuff.”

“No, I want ALL the files sent, because my GP wants to get my depression history so she can know how to monitor me better.”

“Okay, so we’ll just send the files that relate to your depression then.”

“That’s ALL the files.”

“Okay, now, from what dates?”

*headdesk*

After that fiasco, I went to the Reproductive Mental Health Centre, where I see a counsellor ever week. I asked if they could have my assessment from the shrink sent to my GP. They said sure, all my doctor had to do was call and ask for them. I gave them the name of my GP, so they would know who was calling.

“I don’t need to sign anything?”

“Nope, just have them call and leave a fax number.”

So I go to the GP’s office, and give them the number for the shrink, and sign a form THERE saying I authorize them to collect this information. It is clearly marked with the clinic’s letterhead, and they fax it immediately to Reproductive Mental Health with a request for my files.

The next time I went in to see the counsellor, the lady at the counter was like “Hey, what’s Dr. Walker’s fax number?”

“Who?”

“I’m supposed to send files to a Dr. Walker…”

“I don’t have a doctor of that name. My doctor’s name is *entirely different East Indian name that also ends in r*.”

“Oh, okay, maybe that’s it. Do you have her number?”

“No, not on me.”

“Okay, we’ll try and look it up, and if we have any problems we’ll call you.”

So I got a call today.

Lady: “Hi, I was wondering if you could give me the number for Dr. Walker? They asked us to send your files.”

Me: “I don’t have a Dr. Walker. My doctor’s name is *entirely different East Indian name that also ends in r*.

Lady: “Oh, okay, maybe that’s it. Do you have her number?”

Me: “I can look it up on the BC College of Physicians and Surgeons website.”

Lady: “Are you near a computer?”

Me: “Sure…” I start typing in her name at the BC College of Physicians and Surgeons website.

Lady: “What kind of doctor is she? Is she your obstetrician?”

Me: “No, she’s my GP.”

Lady: “Oh, okay, and you’re Googling her number?”

Me: “I’m looking it up on the BC College of Physicians and Surgeons website. They list all the doctors.”

Lady: “Carol? I’m getting another call. Can you call me back when you finish Googling her number? Thanks.” *click*

*fifteen seconds later*

Other Lady: “Reproductive Mental Health.”

Me: “Hi, I was just speaking to someone about my GP’s phone number.”

Other Lady: “Okay, when was this?”

Me: “Less than a minute ago?”

Other Lady: “Oh, then you want Ester. Hang on.”

Yet Another Lady: “Hello, BC Women’s operating service.”

Me: “Uh… I’m waiting to speak to the woman who wanted my GP’s number.”

Y.A.L: “Sorry, hon, I can’t help you with that.”

Me: “Can you please transfer me back to Reproductive Mental Health, please?”

Y.A.L.: “Sure.”

Man: “Mental health.”

Me: “Is this Reproductive Mental Health?”

Man: “No.”

Me: “Could you send me there, please?”

Other Lady: “Reproductive Mental Health. Are you holding for Ester?”

Me: “Apparently.”

Other Lady: “Ester just went home for the day. Can you call her back?”

Me: “Can you just please give her my GP’s phone number?”

Other Lady: “Oh, okay, sure, what is it?”

I give the number and hang up the damn phone. I swear, if they call me back…