Stress, Education and Feline Diabetes
This is one of those moments when I’m more acutely aware of the march of time. I’m sitting in a lounge outside a campus library. The lounge is a peculiar set up, where the hallway widens into a bulge, filled with chairs that are designed to keep my feet about two inches above the floor and short tables that are more appropriate for a traditional Japanese restaurant of tables than for any more utilitarian use. As I type, students and professors flow past me. I suppose it’s a statement of our times that I don’t attract more attention than I do. I’m more than twice the age of most who pass here (nearly three times the age of some) but most of the quizzical glances come from the professors rather than the youth.
I’ll be taking a course in practical pharmacology, in the hopes of making myself employable. The current plan is to absolutely ruin the curve for the rest of the students, get the attention of whoever is teaching, and use that to get a recommendation and perhaps even some job referrals. I suspect that reality will strike somewhere between the first and second classes, when my fellow students have a chance to display their own aggressive competence. My dream is that I’ll be taking a class full of inexperienced 18 year olds; Reality dictates that it is more likely I’ll be taking a class full of the desperate unemployed like myself. It should be an interesting ten weeks, regardless.
I’ve gotten a substantial discount on this class’s tuition, since the Prof teaches here. My class days coincide with his long days of teaching. While my class runs from 6:30 to 9:30 in the evening, The Prof has to be on campus before ten in the morning. In terms of saving gas it makes sense for us to commute together, so I’ll be spending full days Tuesday and Thursday on campus. Today this means I have an over-abundance of free time, but once I have my first class I anticipate spending this time studying. Since I will be free from the distractions of house and cats, and since I will not have my own transportation, this should enforce educational diligence on my part. This does pose a problem with the Little Grey Shit, though.
It’s been four months now since she’s been diagnosed with diabetes. She initially responded well to insulin, and I had high hopes she was going to be one of those transitory diabetics that could be weaned off the glargine. Those hopes have long since been dashed. While I considered her well controlled through November and December, her blood glucose readings have become erratic. I’ll have a great week with her staying within normal, and then I’ll go two or three weeks where her readings can range from 104 to 252 within the space of twelve hours. I’ve done everything you’re supposed to: high protein diet; small frequent feedings; proper storage of insulin; shots given twelve hours apart (plus or minus fifteen minutes). Being right doesn’t always give one the right results, though.
My school routine is going to disrupt the medication routine. I’ll have to wait and see how badly this affects LGS’s blood sugar readings, but I’m expecting the worst. I can’t leave food out for her without sticking her in a room by herself, since the other cats will poach from her bowl with no compunction whatsoever. If I stick her back in the old quarantine room during the day, she’s only going to stress out over that, which in turn will increase her blood sugar. I can’t afford to board her twice a week, and there’s no kennel in the area I would trust with knowing how to deal with a diabetic cat anyhow.
My plan is to give her the a.m. insulin at the very last minute before I leave for school, and then again the moment I get back from school. That means that twice a week she’ll have about a 14 hour interval between injections instead of a twelve hour interval, and that she’ll be fasted for those 14 hours that I’m away from the house. I’ll let the blood sugar readings I get determine whether I need to lock her up with food during the day or if I have to adjust the insulin dosage from what she’s currently getting. I am not comfortable with this, but at least I have four months of good data to know how she responds to dose increases and decreases.
I have no idea how people without a medical degree handle sick pets.
Other than your kitty’s issues, it sounds like your class routine is really great. You should be able to kick some major … well you know…
Go get ’em!
good luck, hopefully she does well on the schedule. she’s lucky she’s got you. re: pharm class, show those young whipper snappers a thing or two!
Pharmacology? Does that mean you intend to become a pharmacist? I bet you’ll find it interesting. That should be right up your alley.
Best of luck to ya and to the widdle cat.
Good luck with the class. Hope you knock a room full of snotty 18 year olds on their butts!
This is going to be interesting with LGS. Hopefully it turns into something not too bad. Too bad you don’t know someone you trust who could go in and feed her a few times a day and give her her insulin within the 12 hour range. That would make life easier.
I reckon you’ll have no problem outperforming the 18-year-olds. I’ve found it much easier to get high grades this time round compared to when I was 18 – I’m more self-aware so know what study techniques work most effectively for me, I’m less tempted by parties and the social side of university life, and I just have more life experience than the 18-year-olds so I can apply common sense to a lot of areas.
Good luck!
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"I have no idea how people without a medical degree handle sick pets."
Mostly? They don’t. They might try for a while. Then, either they dump them (hopefully in a rescue facility) or put them down. Sad but true.
I’ve always felt that when I adopt a pet it’s like adopting a child. Their part of the bargain is for them to be themselves, entertain me if they feel like it (and they usually do,) comfort me when I’m down (if they want to) and share their lives with me. My part of the bargain is to provide their food, a safe shelter, medical needs, emotional needs and entertain them whenever possible. Somehow, I think I get the better end of the deal. My life is simply not complete without a little fur child to love who loves me back.
If, for some reason, our personalities are not a match, it is then my responsibility to find them a person who can provide for all their needs AND who is a better fit emotionally. Luckily, that has only happened one time with a funny, sweet springer spaniel named Daphne. My step-brother’s family took her, hunted with her and loved her like a child for the rest of her life. More than 25 years later they still get misty when they talk about how she died.
She was outside in the fenced front yard and a drunk driver crashed through the fence and killed her instantly. She didn’t suffer, but they sure did.