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Cross-Cultural Psychology
An Update on Homer's Health
The results of the additional tests on Homer's liver
Posted May 23, 2011
Because of a schedule change on the part of the ultrastenographer, Homer's ultrasound test and X-rays were pushed up to this past Friday. Homer's doctor was out of the office until Sunday, so in the meantime I got the results and discussed options with the ultrastenographer. And I'm not ashamed to say that this was probably the worst weekend of my life. (Don't worry, though--there IS a happy ending to this story!)
The tests results showed that Homer's liver was, indeed, enlarged, and also that there was some inflammation of his intestines. This led the ultrastenographer to conclude that Homer either had Irritable Bowel Syndrome or cancer. The only way to know for sure, she told me, would be to do a biopsy of Homer's liver and intestines, which involves major--and majorly invasive--surgery. Or I could elect to assume that it was probably IBS and treat him for that with steroids.
Well...damn. In the first place, Homer has absolutely no symptoms of IBS whatsover. So if it's between IBS and cancer, I told myself, then I guess it has to be cancer. Not that I was willing to subject a fourteen-year-old cat who's eating well and playing continuously to major surgery simply as an exploratory mission. And even if it did turn out to be cancer, I told myself, I was equally unwilling to subject Homer to chemotherapy. (I realize that others with different cats have made and would make different decisions. Please understand this in context: This is a cat who is afraid of nothing in life except the vet's office. This is a cat who routinely requires no fewer than three techs to hold him down just so they can draw blood. Whatever amount of time Homer turns out to have left, I have absolutely no intention of making it a horror for him.)
I also couldn't wrap my head around the idea of putting Homer on steroids. I've had to take steroids for short periods of time over the years for some chronic skin problems, and it's always an absolute nightmare. I know firsthand what the side effects of steroids are in terms of paranoia and mood swings. From what I've heard from those who've had to put their cats or dogs on steroids, the side effects aren't much different in animals than they are in humans. Was I going to be forced to turn this happy, playful, cheerful little guy into a quivering emotional mess nobody even recognized?
The particular outrage of this whole thing, as I took great pains to announce loudly and indignantly all weekend to anybody who would listen, was that Homer was just fine! These stupid tests had just been a formality in the first place! How could this be??? What kind of crazy, upside-down logic had suddenly infected my world when the happiest little cat anybody has ever seen was, in fact, gravely and perhaps even fatally ill.
I couldn't believe any of it. I wouldn't believe any of it. I spent the weekend wondering if I was just in denial, and was going to end up making the worst possible decisions for Homer simply because I was too weak-willed to face up to reality.
And then, yesterday, my vet was back in the office, and I was finally able to speak with her directly.
In the first place, she said, she found it highly unlikely that Homer had cancer. There was simply no way that cancer could have progressed to the point of causing changes in his liver while causing absolutely no changes in Homer's behavior. In other words, it was almost impossible that a cat with aggressive cancer of the liver would also be playful and happy and eating well. And, for the first time since Friday afternoon, I felt the knot in my chest ease up just a bit.
She also said that further blood tests showed no evidence of IBS. All that food Homer eats so eagerly was being absorbed into his system just fine, which would not be the case if he had IBS. And, also, there's the fact that Homer has none of the secondary symptoms of IBS.
She did note that the ultra-sound showed that Homer has an "unusual architecture" to his kidneys that she's never before seen in a cat. But since they were the right size, and since according to his bloodwork his kidneys were functioning just fine, she concluded that whatever it was had probably always been the case with his kidneys, and she wasn't too concerned about that, either. (Laurence suggested that perhaps his weird kidneys are the true source of Homer's "superpowers." I replied that weird kidneys would be the least-exciting superpower any superhero could possibly have. "Look! Up in the...er...bathroom! It's Oddly-Shaped-Kidneys Dude!")
So, basically, while there are a couple of things that look wrong, they can't find that anything actually is wrong. My doctor feels that a liver infection is unlikely insofar as Homer's white blood cell count is normal, but we're still going to put him on a week-long course of antibiotics just as a precautionary measure. She's also prescribing a liver-support pill to see if we can bring the inflammation down. The only problem is that this is one of those enormous horse-pill types that I have, essentially, zero chance of ever getting down Homer's gullet. (Those who read my book will remember what happened the last time I tried to force-feed Homer a pill.) So she's looking into a chewable alternative, or something I can add to Homer's food, and if any of you have any suggestions, I'd be IMMENSELY grateful.
Homer, for his part, ran around the apartment like a nut all weekend. The only change in his behavior was that, for the first time in years, he cried insistently to be allowed to sleep with me at night. And we let him. He burrowed as far into my chest as he could, and purred like crazy, and I truly believe that he did this because he sensed I was worried about him and wanted to let me know that he was just fine.
What I learned this weekend is that a cat who acts fine, looks fine, eats fine, and plays fine probably is fine--and I should have trusted both of us enough to believe with my mind what I already knew in my heart.
Although we are going to be keeping a close eye on his liver from now on. Better safe than sorry.
ETA: For those of you who are suggesting pill pockets (and, truly, thank you for all suggestions!), the liver pill is MUCH too big for a pill pocket, unfortunately--although that's how he'll be getting his antibiotic. It's also too big for one of those syringes. I'm told that the active ingredient in the pill is milkthistle, so I'm going to explore holistic options that would allow me to put the milkthistle directly into his food.
