Praying for Kitty

Often, when something terrible happens, you wake up--shaken but relieved--realizing the whole thing was a bad dream. And subsequently, everything is okay again.

Last night, I knew that even if by some act of God(dess) I could nod off, the sleep would be pointless, because even if I were to wake up this morning thinking/hoping it was all a bad dream, the reality that it's not would come crashing back onto me like a ton of bricks.

When your cat has a urinary tract problem, it can come on rather suddenly. It did this about two weeks ago, when he developed what we're fairly sure was a urinary tract infection, or UTI. He was restless, paced the apartment, went in and out of his box, and meowed more while sleeping less, but other than that he was okay and we weren't sure what was wrong. A couple days later, he was in a vet's office. The vet was unable to detect any problem via ultrasound because his bladder was empty and thus small. Plain film x-rays didn't reveal any stones in the kidneys or anywhere else. Judging by the symptoms we reported and the lack of other clinical findings, the vet assumed it was a UTI and prescribed a 7-day round of antibiotics. After about 2-3 days on the medication, he seemed to improve dramatically. Like smart pet parents, we finished the entire round according to instruction. He returned to his normal, happy, lovey self, and all was well.

...For a week. Until last night. Abruptly at 10pm he started howling around the apartment intermittently. We thought he wanted to play, as this was how he sounded when he held a milk jug cap in his mouth (his toy of choice). When it persisted with a little more intensity and a slightly higher pitch, accompanied by fruitless trips to the litter box (and our other bathtub as well, in which we saw a couple drops of urine) we thought, oh no, not this again. And yet, it was different. We figured he might be constipated and adjusted his lumbar spine and cold-lasered him on constipation and infection settings for a few minutes. No dice, so we didn't screw around.

Within an hour we were researching emergency vet clinics, finding one that was open 24/7/365. Thank God for living in the city. It has its moments, but it has its moments, if you know what I mean. A half hour later we were there, and he was whisked away to the back. In an emergency vet clinic, you wait out in the front lobby and let them do what they're going to do. It's not anything you want to watch. It's necessary and whatnot, but it's not an image of your fur-baby you want burned into your mind.

After what seemed like forever (but really wasn't), we were told he most likely has a blockage - he'll be sedated, catheterized, and fed fluids, painkillers, and anti-inflammatories over the course of the next few days. Sucks, but I can deal with that.

She prepared us for the fact that (to paraphrase) this may be just the beginning. Male cats are prone to urinary blockage, which is a medical emergency (so never, EVER screw around or hem and haw with this kind of thing!), and if this happens once, it can happen again. If it does, it may require surgery and even then, you're not out of the woods yet, because there are after-effects - life kind of changes irrevocably once the surgery is done.

He may or may not need surgery - time will tell. Until then, all you can do is pray. Sleep is optional.

PMS Thursday

Don't look now, but I think I'm on the warpath. Everything seems to be getting under my skin at once. And I have to talk about it, so that I can vent my myriad frustrations and maximize my chances of having a productive day after all. I make no guarantees on the latter. But the former sounds like a good idea anyway.

It always comes down to the little things. Like how between Firefox, Blogger, and my overtaxed Snow Leopard, my system hangs when I want to switch gears and go back and correct something while typing. Which is frequent, because my brain isn't working and I make stupid typos I can't think of an excuse for.

It also comes down to the fact that I'm only getting 3 hours of sleep per night as a rule this week. I had one good night where I got 6-7. Other than that, it's all about forcing myself to go to bed at 4am so I can at least get SOME sleep without feeling gnarly the next morning. I'm not tired during the day if I miss sleep; I just feel like shit is all.

Or the salespeople, omigod the salespeople. They're on my phone, in my mail, at my door, in my lobby, on my home phone (which was supposed to be unlisted but AT&T, true to form, dropped the ball entirely when we started paying them more money by signing up for Uverse...in a contract no less).

The door-to-door sales at the office is getting so bad that I actually printed up two physical pieces of paper; one is the San Antonio city code that governs door-to-door sales and explains how, simply by entering our suite despite our "No Soliciting" sign, they are technically breaking the law by falling under the "aggressive solicitation" definition. Nifty, huh?

The phone sales are even worse. HOW DARE THEY call me in the middle of the freakin' day to pitch their "we just want to 'verify' your listing" scams.

Needy patients - I love them all, but I've got one in particular whom I think I'm eventually going to have to start saying "refer to previous email" because I think by now I have answered some of this person's questions literally about 4 separate times. I give my email support unlimited for free (limited by what they can type and the fact that I check my email several times a day at my convenience), but there's a such thing as you have to actually read--and implement--the answers I give you. If you need clarification or elaboration that's one thing; but don't make the same complaint twice.

Dumbass labs who can't keep our provider numbers on file to save their collective asses. Yes, Quest Diagnostics I'm looking at you. Yet another Dallas-based wasteoid of a company that if you weren't so big I'd NEVER do business with. Dealing with their insurance-related incompetence is one of the major reasons I chose to stay out of insurance altogether. I'd rather spend my time focusing on my patients' cases (after the occasional blog-ranting to clear my head).

Now let's talk about UN-licensed, UN-certified practitioners who have very legal ability to interpret diagnostic testing whatsoever being allowed to attend classes meant to educate LICENSED doctors and other LICENSED practitioners on how to treat and manage COMPLICATED cases in which multiple body systems are involved. And let's talk about the sheer ignorance and snotty, hostile attitude that monopolistically held up the entire class, wasting time and dumbing down information.

The supplement company who sponsored this is going downhill and I'm actively looking at their competitors, trying to find suitable alternatives. Why? Because they are reducing me and the specialized service I provide to a cheap commodity, sending the message that anyone can do this, and creating a glut of supply that almost outpaces the demand for these services. The woman in question is a sour, bitter person who thinks they can treat autoimmune disorders because she knows about megadosing Vitamin D. Her patients are probably more well-read and knowledgeable than she is. Yikes.

And can I stop sneezing? Huge interruption and it creates misalignment in my vertebrae, which create headaches later. Laugh if you want. Look it up (from someone other than the Kwack watch folks), please.

Physically, I'm trashed. Allergies abound, weight won't go away (and in fact it keeps accumulating), the internal imbalanced condition that allowed a skin yeast to grow is still there even if the skin yeast itself is responding to a topical application of tea tree oil, my muscles are wiped out after one flight of stairs, I've still got two months to go on a gut bug protocol, I barely have enough brain power to write my professional blog(s), and our practice still isn't quite steady. It's not doing badly, but it's not where it needs to be. Did I mention I can't sleep? Oh and I'm peeing 3 times within the first 2 hours every morning. WTF?

My memory is trashed, too. I have no idea what is causing the inflammation; I've eliminated everything bad from my diet and I have little left to enjoy. No grains (occasional corn, MAYBE a gluten-free snack like cookies or homemade granola). No factory-farmed meats. Minimal conventional produce. I cut back on the thyroid-slowing foods. I avoid every single allergenic food I tested positive for (except organic milk because it's such a borderline allergy). I don't go hog-wild on nuts or seeds. I don't do artificial colors, flavors, or preservatives. I scrutinize labels for MSG and its aliases. I walk a couple miles at a time, a few times a week. I don't use alcohol, nicotine, or illegal drugs. I take no prescription drugs and minimal over-the-counter drugs only as needed. I don't use any conventional perfumes, laundry detergents, soaps, shampoos, or conditioners. I wear no makeup or bra (if that's TMI, I don't care right now). I don't go hog-wild on antibacterial soaps. I live super-close to work, I've identified my stressors (like driving), and I avoid/minimize them. I exercise professional boundaries and don't let anyone (except us) run our practice. I don't watch stressful things on TV at night. No doom-and-gloom or prophecies. I never watch the news or listen to talk radio anymore. What else am I supposed to do? Dammit.

Also, I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't in terms of organization. If I don't clean my desk, it gets full of clutter that is stressful to look at and keep processing. If I DO clean my desk, my memory is so shot I don't remember where I put anything so I end up frustrated and looking needlessly for things I need anyway.

And of course, I feel like I have to keep nagging the other half to get HIS things done. Did you do this yet? No. That? No. What have you been doing? Fuck all, is what it seems like sometimes. I'm sure that he, like me, is just doing his best. But I feel like as slow as I am (and I feel it, I'm aware of it, and it's frustrating), I feel like he's even slower and more inert. Nothing like one ass-dragging burnout trying to kick someone else in the pants.

Story of my frigging life. Am I a bad person if I recently started taking God(dess)'s name in vain?

Alamo City reality check

Yep, I still love San Antonio. Nope, this isn't going to be a bash-fest, so if you're a San Antonio hater, you might as well give up now, because I'm not going to allow you any satisfaction.

It is, however, a caution to all of those out there who fit in to certain groups: 1) single people looking to find a mate; 2) single people looking to have fun with other singles; 3) young people; 4) hip people; 5) those still in the workforce who 5A) can't work from home 5B) would like a decent-paying white-collar job 5C) are looking to build a business that does NOT cater to seniors, military, or Spanish-speakers...

I love San Antonio. (Did I say that already?) I love how everything is in a few-mile radius. I haven't even been to the Southside in 2 years. I don't venture more than 3 miles more than once a week, and then it's maybe 5-6 miles, most of which can be traversed via sidestreets. We have bike lanes, fuel-efficient buses that run on realistic routes, integrated neighborhoods, a Green Chamber of Commerce, a Whole Foods Market, organic produce at (SOME of) the local HEBs, and more people have heard of EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique) than I care to imagine. We even have a bookstore that doubles as a no-kill cat sanctuary. And our animal control shelter is working its way toward no-kill status as well.

That said, it can be really tough. If you're not retired, Spanish-speaking, or military, you may struggle economically. The economy is not large here by a long shot, and people are careful about parting with theirs. This is probably why when the economic fit hit the shan 3 years ago (and hasn't let up much since, no matter what they say), we weren't too badly affected; our economy wasn't that big to begin with! It's not like it could shrink much more.

If you're into jazz, tejano, or bachata music, you're good to go. If you're into Americana, folk, singer-songwriter, eclectic, or obscure, you're SOL. Although the pervasive '80s influence is awesome. And the classic rock stations don't suck.

If you like mini-golf, real golf, amusement parks, eating out, movies, bowling, etc, you're fine. If you like water sports or Main Event-type places, fugetaboutit. The yoga and Nia studios are second to none; the martial arts spread is less consistent.

If you're gluten-free or otherwise under special dietary restrictions, never fear! No matter who you are, there's something out there for you. Vegan/vegetarian? No problem. Gluten-free? Gotcha covered. Organic? Done. Made from scratch? Plenty. Paleo? Still working on that one.

The Meetup groups are a mixed bag. There more to choose from in terms of the nutrition and health/wellness themes, but none of them are the young 20s-40s hip go-getters you'd think. It is, however, mostly retired people, many cancer survivors and whatnot. Several Veg*n groups, who would crucify me in a cold second. Everyone's all over this Forks Over Knives thing. Yawn. T Colin Campbell's disproof and downfall was sooo yesterday. Again, no Paleo groups. Yet. Hopefully that'll catch on before 5 years from now.

The News is marginally less stressful, but I've still permanently sworn off it. Life is always better if you have Uverse or something similar. I'd love to have a choice, though, such as AT&T's Uverse (which we have) pitted against Verizon's FIOS services (which we don't have).

I like the integration and diversity you find within the neighborhoods, but I wish the neighborhoods weren't quite SO integrated. How integrated is too integrated? Well, when we walk a quarter mile and see gang tags (vernacular for hoodlums marking their territory with spray paint) on mailboxes, and another quarter mile gets you hit up for some change from a panhandler who reeks to the bone of cigarette smoke. Yay.

It's not a dangerous neighborhood, but rundown doesn't even cut it. It's crumbly, cracked, trashy, and hopeless. The air has a permanent smell of stale motel hallways and cheap detergent. Tinged with more smoke. And maybe the oil from someone's car. Although that's not as common as you'd think because they all know how to fix cars. At least the neighborhood is good for something. If you can get past all the subwoofers.

There are no Mormon proselytizers to speak of, really. I think we got approached twice. Once we sent them to the neighbor downstairs (who has since been evicted...she needed to find God the most desperately of all of us, I think) and the other time they cornered us on the deck and we shot the shit for a while. They gave up after a while, though. I told them I was Wiccan and then later I let it slide that I was happy going to hell. I probably didn't put it that way, but it probably would've been funnier if I did. I didn't want to seem disrespectful, though.

There isn't a huge Scientology presence, either. I mean, there are 3 different meeting places, but it's not big here like it was in Dallas and Austin.

The malls are great. They're QUIRKY, ALL of them, but they're fine. Anything you need, you can find.

Subluxation-based chiropractic doctors don't do so well here. Good. Oh, and not everyone's a Parker grad. And there aren't 5 individual DCs on every block. There's at least one in every complex, though; we just have fewer complexes.

For those of us who practice normally and ethically, though, the sentiment is generally pro-chiropractic. Makes our job much easier. Insurance sucks, though - everyone around here has BCBS (better up until last month), or UHC (sucks no matter what).

Most apartments are managed very horribly. Parking problems, criminals, noise, gangs, vehicle thefts, break-ins, delayed repairs, security deposit scams, you name it. Even in areas that should be good, the apartments are still shit. Few and far between, if you look hard enough and have a little luck on your side, you can find a diamond in the rough. Don't get taken; looks can be deceiving - ask around.

We get out and do more things and walk around way more often than we ever have, even in Frisco. We don't feel like prisoners in our own house on weekends like we did in Dallas, kept inside by traffic and 'tude.

People are generally nice, courteous, and polite here. They use turn signals, and they let you in when you put yours on. The tradeoff: they drive slower. Don't tailgate or they'll go even slower. Don't be a dick, and put your road rage hat away. No room for it here. You'll only stick out like an ass.

Lots of wildflowers. How do we know this? Because there's LOTS of un-mowed grass - in yards, parks, large easements, empty lots, you name it. There are no pristine lego pad lawns of perfectly manicured uniform carpets of grass. Not happening. Things grow natural and wild here, and everyone's OK with that. Enjoy the bluebonnets!

Not every apartment has recycling. You'll have to throw everything in the trash. You'll have to get over that socially-ingrained "I'm going to hell" feeling.

You won't get much of a chance to listen to talk radio unless you do so in your office, because you don't have a long commute stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic anymore. Ditto goes for a traffic report, because if you're not retarded, you won't need one.

Bars are there, even strip clubs, but they're not totally obvious. They're all kind of hidden away. They're right out your back door, even just a few miles away from the best neighborhoods, but they have the decency not to obnoxiously announce to the world that they're there.

Roads are getting done at different paces. Some are smoothly redone; the potholes of others dare to tear your truck apart.

I'm tickled pink we don't have much sports to speak of. We don't need them. They attract the wrong people. Although maybe they'd boost the economy a little. That's still sagging.

Overall, though, it's an awesome town. I hope I die here.