Pet Care Is A Damn Joke

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I. Am. Livid. 

When we first adopted our kitty a few months ago, I knew there would be a period of adjustment as we all got used to the new addition to the family. 

I specifically asked if there were any health issues or sensitivities I should know about. The adoption place gave him a big shiny thumbs up and sent us home with our new kitty. 

I noticed blood in his stool the first week and became concerned so I called the vet to talk about it just in case something was wrong. They didn’t feel the need to see him and just explained that it was probably due to all the changes. 

But, after two weeks, he was still pooping blood so I called a vet again. I was brushed off AGAIN by being told that “it should go away in time.” Well, it didn’t. This poor cat has always shit blood and no one has taken me seriously. 

Fast-forward to month three. Yes, this cat still shits blood intermittently. And then, last Monday, this poor cat started puking three times a day so I called the vet immediately. He did a physical exam by pushing on the cats stomach and told me there was no blockage. The vet then explained that the cat probably got into something at our house (like a plant or some people food). He charged us a ridiculous amount for four cans of bland soft cat food, gave my kitty an anti-nausea needle, and sent us home. THAT’S IT. 

Ok, first of all, I’m home with my cat almost 24 hours a damn day and there’s NO FUCKING WAY he got into something that I don’t know about. I have plants in my house but they are all behind a locked door to my office which no one else is allowed in to. This cat doesn’t leave my side unless it’s to go to his litter box. And half the time he wants me to follow him downstairs while he takes a piss (no, I don’t do that). Secondly, why didn’t this vet take any blood samples to see if my kitty has parasites or some internal infection?? Why did he assume it could be found by rubbing the cats belly?? Can he literally FEEL the parasites that could possibly be eating my cat alive?? Can he feel the bacteria or infection that’s potentially growing inside my cat?? Third, how dare he inject my cat with something I didn’t approve of and then have the nerve to send us home as though we were wasting his time! The fucking nerve of some people just rips me a new asshole. 

A week later, MY CAT IS STILL PUKING. And no one will see us to do more tests or help us figure out what’s wrong. Everyone says they’re booked up and can’t even squeeze us into the schedule. I have one more number to call tomorrow morning and then I’m out of options. 

I know it’s only been three months since we got him but I know my cat. And I know he’s on his deathbed right now. My kid is heartbroken because this poor kitty is suffering and no one will help us. And I can’t believe the amount of people who have brushed off our concerns and sent us out the door. Or they wouldn’t even let us in the door to begin with! 

If you think healthcare in Canada is a joke, try adopting a pet. Pet healthcare is even worse! 

Basically, we are just trying to relieve our kitty’s pain right now and make him feel loved and comforted until we can find a veterinarian who will take us seriously and do some blood work on our cat to find out what’s going on inside of him. This poor baby can barely keep his eyes open and, when he does, he’s barfing. 

I’m a mess of tears and I’ve already had to warn my son that if kitty gets any sicker that he might not be with us too much longer. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT WAS TO TELL A NINE YEAR OLD HIS CAT IS DYING?!?! 

All I need is one vet clinic who can help us. That’s all it would take to relive a family of its pain and give us hope. 

Depression Through The Generations

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(Warning: Sensitive subject matter.)

I found out yesterday morning that MM’s grampa passed away at 9am. The patriarch of the family has been in pain for many years. But he just kept going. For months and years. 

When I found out that he died, I cried for a moment, but then I realized that he’s not suffering anymore so I pulled myself together. 

That old man lasted almost another ten months in defiance of his doctors. I thought that was great because he wouldn’t “go lightly into that good night.” No, he rallied against his diagnosis and he stuck around for a while longer so he could see all his kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids. My own grandfather did the same thing years ago, waited to see his entire family before passing away quietly. Sometimes I wonder if they have a say in when they get to pass on. 

But I digress. 

I don’t deal well with death. And I’m sure it started when my best friend died. Over ten years ago, my BFF committed suicide, which, I believe, led to my depression. Or maybe I always had depression and I never really knew it. But it was quite obvious after my friend died. 

On the outside, I cried a bit, I got over it, and then I helped plan the funeral. On the inside, I still feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest sometimes. The pain of losing him has never gone away and it has never gotten easier. I still cry for him sometimes like it has just happened. It’s a painful cry. 

After my BFF died, two other family members passed away within 18 months. And my depression grew. By the last death, I physically felt as though I couldn’t take it anymore. My body was sore and aching from stress and crying. I had a constant headache. Some days, I could barely get out of bed and dress myself. 

And then I got pregnant. And I cried even more. 

I was so scared for my unborn child. By then I knew depression would be a part of my life and I was petrified that I’d pass it on to my child. It was my worst fear. 

My depression is triggered by major life events; death, financial stress, major parenting moments, and anything else that may cause me to lay in bed exhausted for days and weeks at a time. I might have a good day once in a while, but depression always comes back and kicks my ass eventually. 

So, when someone I know passes away, my sadness takes over again. And I’m pretty much useless both physically and mentally. It makes me feel as though I’m out of control and can’t force my mind or body to do what I want it to do. I feel a weight on my chest and my mind won’t stop racing. I ache all over and I can’t seem to think clearly. My body and my mind work against me and render me useless. How long and how badly depends on many factors. It’s unpredictable. 

My therapy (which is working for me, but may not be right for other people) is my son. He keeps me grounded and focused. At the end of the day, I know there’s someone who depends on me regardless of my depression. I have a commitment and responsibility to take care of myself so that I can take care of my son. 

Personally, I rely on jogging, yoga, and a lot of meditation to get me through tough times. It’s the only thing that helps to clear my head and bring me back to reality so I can deal with what’s going on. I spend a lot of time doing those three things when I’m not with my son. It calms me. And it helps me to smile, knowing I am keeping mentally and physically healthy in order to better care for myself and my kid. Because that’s what matters most to me. My kid. 

There are many other things that happen during my depression, but all that really matters to me is that I’m trying to be successful at taking care of myself in order to take care of my son. For now, that’s how I deal. And it seems to be working because my son is happy and healthy and that’s the most important thing.