Mr. Meow is now the tubeless wonder! Yesterday at his checkup he had continued to maintain his weight by eating on his own with no goo tube feedings from me. Dr. Stumb felt it was time to remove his feeding tube.

Hallelujah!

They were able to remove it right then and there. Later today I can take his bandage off. (He pretty much was ready to have it come off last night. He shredded it pretty good. I think only the tape part is left. I believe he managed to unravel all of the gauze and pull it out on his own.)

I’m a little hesitant to see the hole in the side of his neck for the first time. I’m just SOOOOO immensely thankful we had an option like the feeding tube to try and that Dr. Stumb didn’t automatically write him off as having cancer and being a goner. She at least tried to treat his for the Tri-itisis, and it seems that was a good gamble as it must’ve been what he had. If he had cancer he should’ve kept on deteriorating.

I can’t thank her or the staff at Southside Animal Hospital enough. All the vets are great there. Dr. Singleton saved Tabby’s life back when she got an infection after her spay surgery. She became our go to vet after that. Both Murph and Tab love her, but not Mr. Meow. (Except that’s not unusual. He really doesn’t like anyone.)

But when Dr. Singleton was out over Thanksgiving and Dr. Stumb was on duty, that’s who we rushed Mr. Meow in to see. He didn’t fuss as much with her. I wrote it off that it was just how sick he was.

But during this feeding tube trial (which has called for multiple vet trips), it’s become apparent of all the vets he’s ever seen, he fusses least with Dr. Stumb.

So…since she can manage him she’ll be his vet. Murph and Tab will still see Dr. Singleton.

But I have to wonder…is it a Courtney thing? Dr. Stumb’s first name is also Courtney. Sort of funny.

I’m just glad he’s still allive and kicking. The feeding tube was sure an adventure, but…it worked! I’m very thankful we had both the time and money to pursue that route. Even if Mr. Meow lives to be 25 (WOW! That’d be some kind of miracle wouldn’t it?), it’s going to be way too soon to say goodbye to him.

Others only get to see his cranky, ornery side. But he’s my little kitty soul mate. He’s definitely left his paw prints all over my heart. So glad he’s still around!

I’ve been having some “woman” issues lately. Like the past month or so. Actually, it’s been a bit longer than that, but things sort of took a nose dive in the last month in a more noticeable, “uh oh, guess I better go talk to the doc” kind of way.

No one was sure Aunt Flow would even come back after chemo (which threw me into a sort of menopause). But last August it did.

I’ve always had a pretty healthy cycle. It normally comes right on time. But when it came back it was a bit heavier than what it had been. And then around December/January my PMS started kicking in a bit more fiercely and earlier than normal.

Then the periods started coming more. Like every 3 1/2 to 4 weeks instead of 4 1/2 to 5. Then in May it was supposed to come on May 13. Or around there. Nothing.

I had some symptoms, fully expected it, but it never showed. A month passed and still nothing. But, again, I was starting to get symptoms, along with some wicked pains. I chalked that up to my period being late and making up for lost time.

We went to St. Louis to see friends 4th of July weekend and I thought I might die. The drive there wasn’t bad. I was doing so-so. But as the night wore on I felt the pain growing and growing until all I could think was, “This is it! It’s of course going to strike now, when we’re on vacation trying to have fun.”

But…nothing.

And that first night as we drove back to our hotel from our friend’s house I had to pull over and let Wayne drive. I was doubled over and was seriously considering a trip to the ER.

But a few Advil and sleep made things more bearable for the morning. I then popped more Advil because we were headed to Six Flags with our friends and their kids and no way was I going to rain on their parade.

I made it through okay, but I knew something was wrong. I was having too much pain, and a very weird smell (sorry, maybe that’s TMI but it’s part of my symptoms).

I took a pregnancy test because my 3 month oncologist checkup was this past Tuesday. They always have to x-ray me and I knew they’d need to know if there was a bun in my oven. The test was negative.

I mentioned my period problems to my onc nonetheless. They told me I better schedule with my primary.

I luckily got in the next day. They had me pee in a cup and confirmed, nope, not prego, but there was another cause for concern: there was some blood in my urine.

Say what? So what does that indicate?

It could be a cyst, a fibroid tumor, maybe even my kidneys. However, I should be in more pain if it was kidney related. Oh, yeah, and there’s always the possibility I could have another hitchhiker. They took some blood and scheduled a vaginal ultrasound for the next day. (Which was yesterday.)

Lovely.

Hearing the C word of course flipped me out. Especially since my aunt is dying of a female cancer. But Wayne surprised me and went to my ultrasound appointment with me. It really helped because otherwise I would’ve been freaking myself out in the waiting room. Instead, he was there distracting me with funny commentaries about stories on Today.

But here’s the part where “here we go again…” comes in:

Test was yesterday. The radiologist should have gotten them to my doctor by yesterday afternoon. But if they did they never called to tell me.

And of course my doctor’s office closes early on Fridays, so they never called this morning with results either. I tried them at 11:40 (thinking they closed at noon). Wrong. They close at 11:30. ARGH!

So now I have to wait all weekend.

Wonderful. That’s a lot like last time. Except I’m not in near as much pain and it’s not Christmastime.

Hopefully it’s something easier than another hitchhiker. But you better believe I am NOT ready to check out of this world yet. Bring it. I’ve got more fight left in me!