(no subject)
This was meant to be a comment on Kyle's post here about the passing of Momma cat, but it raged out of control and grew too long, so I'm linking to it on my own journal.
The little cat you see in my icon is called Gomez (she turned out to be a girl, but heyho). In April last year, at around 1.5 years old, she was hit by a car and badly hurt. We scooped her up off the tarmac, bleeding from her ears and nose, and tried to reassure the driver who stopped and was in hysterics that it wasn't her fault. We drove her to the vets' emergency surgery as fast as the car wheels could go, but I didn't think she'd make it even that far.
The vet was as encouraging as he could possibly be, but didn't hold out much hope. We went to bed that night with the mobile on the bedside cabinet, expecting to hear the worst. Morning came, however, and she was still clinging on. She'd had huge doses of drugs to reduce brain swelling and was on morphine for the pain, but was still fighting.
We visited her every day for the next week or so and she was always flat out, totally zonked. The vet said it could still go either way, and we shouldn't hope for too much. Time passed and she started waking a little, just enough to show that she was still present in terms of brain function, but the bad news was that she was paralysed in all four limbs. She was fed through a tube into her neck and couldn't do much beyond lie there, being turned every couple of hours to prevent her developing sores.
At this point, the vet phoned me for a serious discussion. He said that I could take her home if I was willing to take care of her, to feed her via her tube, keep her clean and comfortable. He felt she might have a better chance of recovery in her home environment, as there was nothing in the cage to make her want to move around. However, he warned that if she didn't recover enought to have a decent quality of life (defined as being able to feed herself and use the litter tray), we might have to bring her back and say goodbye. I'm lucky enough to work from home, so I was able to take her home to care for her and her first act was to pee all over me in the car on the way back :o)
The first few days were pretty much as described above: feeding her, keeping her clean and turning her over. The weather was turning warm by then, so I was able to lie her on the back lawn so she could watch the flying insects and birds and be stimulated (we hoped) to move. And slowly... ever so slowly... that's what she did. She began with one leg to drag herself around, then quite quickly gained the use of three legs, but the remaining front leg just wasn't cooperating. I helped her to walk by holding her underneath her belly, as she just collapsed when it came to moving the fourth limb. Finally, her last leg started to come back online, at first with the paw bent backwards when she hobbled around, but it quickly recovered completely and she was back on all four limbs, eating and using the tray - we were so happy and relieved and the vet nearly cried when we told him, he said it so seldom happens.
But her story doesn't end there. Unfortunately some nerve damage kicked in and she started scratching the back of her head, just when we thought she was out of the woods. She had a constant itch that she just couldn't satisfy and scratched and scratched until she removed fur and flesh and had great bleeding gashes. For a while all we could do was bandage her and put a cone around her head (which she hated, natch) to stop her damaging herself while the vet trialled one drug after another to stop the itch. Eventually he tried Gabapentin, a human drug used by people who have suffered amputations, which seemed to slow down the rate of scratch, but not enough to remove the bandages. After searching fruitlessly on the net to find anyone with a similar experience who might be able to offer advice, I found these, small plastic claw covers that glue onto the claw and prevent damage.
I was sceptical at first thinking that she'd hate them or they'd hurt her, but they were actually the answer to our 'prayers', allowing her to scratch without damaging herself and she tolerated them remarkably well, bar the odd chewing session. That was roughly six months ago and over that period of time I've slowly weaned her off the Gabapentin to the point where she only scratches a little, and have been able to stop using the claw covers without her damaging herself.
She still walks like a little clockwork cat with a funny, come hither wiggle. The left side of her face is paralysed and her whiskers don't move when she yawns. But she is well and happy and living a good life, which is so much more than we could have dared to hope for at the scene of the accident and every time she lies in wait for my ankles from the darkness of the stairwell, I smile rather than curse.
PS Sorry to go on for so long, it just flowed once I started writing, I haven't told the whole story before.
The little cat you see in my icon is called Gomez (she turned out to be a girl, but heyho). In April last year, at around 1.5 years old, she was hit by a car and badly hurt. We scooped her up off the tarmac, bleeding from her ears and nose, and tried to reassure the driver who stopped and was in hysterics that it wasn't her fault. We drove her to the vets' emergency surgery as fast as the car wheels could go, but I didn't think she'd make it even that far.
The vet was as encouraging as he could possibly be, but didn't hold out much hope. We went to bed that night with the mobile on the bedside cabinet, expecting to hear the worst. Morning came, however, and she was still clinging on. She'd had huge doses of drugs to reduce brain swelling and was on morphine for the pain, but was still fighting.
We visited her every day for the next week or so and she was always flat out, totally zonked. The vet said it could still go either way, and we shouldn't hope for too much. Time passed and she started waking a little, just enough to show that she was still present in terms of brain function, but the bad news was that she was paralysed in all four limbs. She was fed through a tube into her neck and couldn't do much beyond lie there, being turned every couple of hours to prevent her developing sores.
At this point, the vet phoned me for a serious discussion. He said that I could take her home if I was willing to take care of her, to feed her via her tube, keep her clean and comfortable. He felt she might have a better chance of recovery in her home environment, as there was nothing in the cage to make her want to move around. However, he warned that if she didn't recover enought to have a decent quality of life (defined as being able to feed herself and use the litter tray), we might have to bring her back and say goodbye. I'm lucky enough to work from home, so I was able to take her home to care for her and her first act was to pee all over me in the car on the way back :o)
The first few days were pretty much as described above: feeding her, keeping her clean and turning her over. The weather was turning warm by then, so I was able to lie her on the back lawn so she could watch the flying insects and birds and be stimulated (we hoped) to move. And slowly... ever so slowly... that's what she did. She began with one leg to drag herself around, then quite quickly gained the use of three legs, but the remaining front leg just wasn't cooperating. I helped her to walk by holding her underneath her belly, as she just collapsed when it came to moving the fourth limb. Finally, her last leg started to come back online, at first with the paw bent backwards when she hobbled around, but it quickly recovered completely and she was back on all four limbs, eating and using the tray - we were so happy and relieved and the vet nearly cried when we told him, he said it so seldom happens.
But her story doesn't end there. Unfortunately some nerve damage kicked in and she started scratching the back of her head, just when we thought she was out of the woods. She had a constant itch that she just couldn't satisfy and scratched and scratched until she removed fur and flesh and had great bleeding gashes. For a while all we could do was bandage her and put a cone around her head (which she hated, natch) to stop her damaging herself while the vet trialled one drug after another to stop the itch. Eventually he tried Gabapentin, a human drug used by people who have suffered amputations, which seemed to slow down the rate of scratch, but not enough to remove the bandages. After searching fruitlessly on the net to find anyone with a similar experience who might be able to offer advice, I found these, small plastic claw covers that glue onto the claw and prevent damage.
I was sceptical at first thinking that she'd hate them or they'd hurt her, but they were actually the answer to our 'prayers', allowing her to scratch without damaging herself and she tolerated them remarkably well, bar the odd chewing session. That was roughly six months ago and over that period of time I've slowly weaned her off the Gabapentin to the point where she only scratches a little, and have been able to stop using the claw covers without her damaging herself.
She still walks like a little clockwork cat with a funny, come hither wiggle. The left side of her face is paralysed and her whiskers don't move when she yawns. But she is well and happy and living a good life, which is so much more than we could have dared to hope for at the scene of the accident and every time she lies in wait for my ankles from the darkness of the stairwell, I smile rather than curse.
PS Sorry to go on for so long, it just flowed once I started writing, I haven't told the whole story before.