Stan’s Ass is not good news.
Kenny took him to the vet Friday morning. First, let me just say that it fucking sucks that people with kids can take off work for all sorts of doctor appointments and sniffles and the like, but I have to be cautious about calling in late for too many pet appointments. Now, don’t mistake me here – no one has told me that I’ve been to too many pet appointments, but I have to feel cautious about it. I have five cats. One’s diabetic. Things happen. I happen to like them, and believe in medical care for them, and I like to be present for the diagnoses.
However, I let Kenny handle Stanley’s Asshole situation by himself. I’ve had a bajillion questions since, and am not happy with his recount of the prognosis.
Here’s what bothers me in the story: The cat has something wrong up in his asshole. Apparently, based on the stuff that’s oozing out of it, right? And my vet – whom I truly like and have been seeing for years and years and I feel they care about all creatures, great and small – has me bothered by how he handled the exam. He put his finger right up poor Stanley’s Ass, without any sort of numbing or pain medication and according to Kenny, Stanley was quite unhappy about it. He’d be unhappy about it on a Good Asshole Day, but add to the mix an Apparently Unhappy Asshole? That, plus a Finger Up It, is not the best approach, in my opinion. I’m mad that the cat had to have that much unnecessary discomfort.
And then Kenny recounted the blood & other stuff that came out of the Poor Stanley’s Asshole, and I was really glad that I wasn’t there to witness that.
So he’s got some sort of a “mass” up in his ass. It’s either a tumor, or a polyp. There’s apparently enough of a passageway for a finger, which means that there’s enough of a passageway for poop to come out of it, too, which is good news or we’d be in a whole lot of other trouble.
However, the tumor/polyp/mass makes it painful to poop, so he’s not eating very much probably because he’s not pooping as much so he’s probably packed up. It’s a shitty circle. Is this the meaning of The Circle of Life??
The vet game him two shots, the purpose of which Kenny wasn’t able to adequately describe for me. Ergo, the reason I feel the need to be present during medical situations. He *thinks* one was an antibiotic shot, and the other was something (a steroid, maybe? I suggested) that may shrink whatever’s up in the old butthole.
We’re supposed to wait for a week and take him back next Friday to check out the size situation.
The vet didn’t take an x-ray, I’m not sure why (again, I wasn’t there to ask my bajillion questions to weigh all the rationale behind the decisions). So the only way to check for improvement next week is another finger-poke up his cat ass. I informed Kenneth that I will be present for that appointment, and he will get a shot of something to calm him/numb him before he gets re-finger-fucked.
The vet also said, “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
Words no one wants to hear. Now, again, don’t mistake me – I like these vets (there’s 2 guys), but think that when it comes to the bigger issues, the pets need vet hospitals, with all the latest technologies.
My friend sent me a link a local pet clinic she’s been too, and they seem to know about cat asshole tumors and polyps. They tout laser removal on their website, which makes me feel a little confident that they’re on the up & up with treatments. I want to take Stan there for a 2nd opinion, but Kenny wants to wait the week and see what happens with the shot.
So I’m sitting and waiting, but I’m not too calm about it. I hate inactivity when there’s a medical crisis. I’m all about, “Figure it out – DO SOMETHING” and not so much the wait-and-see-er. I’ve got anxiety, which is giving me pooping issues. Is this what they mean by the Circle of Life?
Now I’m really tense and snippy with Kenny. Crises do not bring us together as a unified front.
I’ve spent the morning googling “natural stool softeners for cats” as a way to try and ease any pooping pain he may be experiencing. That’s what my life has evolved to.
And the best part is, I’ve got little half-moon shaped specs of blood all around the house, wherever Stan has parked his Poor Troubled Ass.
I think The Universe just gave me a finger up the ass….