ProfessorTomoe

Mrs. Prof sponsored a beautiful black cat at the Garland Pet Adoption Center. She trapped it in our own back yard, practically with no effort at all—the cat walked into the trap, she pulled the trigger, and the cat just kept on eating. It must have been an escaped domesticated cat. Anyway, she paid for all of its shots and everything else, including a microchip. It has been in its own adoption cage for a while now. Move to another spot in the GPAC's building. There's a communal room where many not-so-friendly cats are kept in cages, next to signs that read, "If your child is less than 16 years old, HOLD THEIR HAND." Well, the wife of a staffer at Garland Animal Control came in and did just the opposite. She let her 8-year-old kid run rampant. At one point, he tried to pull a black cat out of one of the cages. He got bit, sending Mrs. Animal Control staffer into a texting frenzy. Garland Animal Control came in and confiscated every black cat that was in that communal room for quarantine, since the 8-year-old brat couldn't (or wouldn't) identify which cat he'd messed with. They also got on to a GPAC staffer who was in the middle of an adoption for not IMMEDIATELY filing a bite report, saying bites take precedence over adoptions.("Throwing their balls around," as Mrs. Prof called it.) Well, today, Garland Animal Control took things one step too far. They confiscated the cat Mrs. Prof was sponsoring, even though it hadn't even been in the communal room when the brat got bit. Mrs. Prof found out and simultaneously broke down and blew up. Tears and phone calls started flying. She's now on her way up to the GPAC to figure out WTF is going on, and to do everything she can to get the cat transferred to our usual vet (due to an upper respiratory infection that's been making the rounds among the cats) for treatment. If you haven't figured out by now, Garland Animal Control is run by an egotistical bastard who sees Mrs. Prof as a threat to his territory. The entire TNR program had to be rammed down his throat by a city councilman on her behalf. I believe this is his way of getting back at her, and so does she. Things that make you go WTF? Yep, I think this qualifies.

I've downloaded it and wish to help test it. Now, if I only new what I was doing ...

5:46 a.m. CDT 20170622. I'm not sure that the damned compression stocking is doing any good at all. Yeah, some comment to make after just waking up from sleeping without it, right? well, I've been sleeping with my legs elevated. That in itself is supposed to help with my edema. It's not. Unless I take a shower way early in the day before my psychiatrist's appointment today, I'm going to go most of the day without the stocking on my leg. I'm sure Mrs. Prof would looove the double disruption to her work day if I showered early. I don't know what I'm gonna do. I'm confused as hell by my health situation right now. It's a very good thing that I'm seeing my psychiatrist today, that's for sure. I don't know if I'm going to stay awake now or go back to sleep. I'll probably raid the pantry again. God, I'm so confused ...

Mrs. Prof had fun pointing out that their closing time, as painted on their door, was 5:00 p.m. CDT. I could swear the closing time I saw online said 4:30. Anyway, the ENT got to hear my croaky voice and the long story behind it. We agreed to start with the low-end stuff first and work our way up from there, if necessary. The low-end stuff in this case is a possible GERD problem, or gastroesophageal reflux disease. It can be chronic in nature. We're going to test for a "dry GERD" case (one with no heartburn or other obvious symptoms, like with me) at a diagnostic place tomorrow, sometime around my psychiatrist appointment. (Boy, is HE gonna get an earful, given everything that's gone on lately.) I'm also going to take some sort of special mouthwash/gargle that you have to get from a compounding pharmacy (that's one thing I remember about this doctor—he likes to compound, for some odd reason). It's supposed to help soothe any damage I might have down in my throat. I'll use it while we're waiting for the GERD tests, and we'll move on from there. On another subject, Mrs. Prof is NOT having fun with my compression stocking. She said she'd rather give me shots (something she's had to do on multiple occasions, including blood thinners in my stomach) than have to put on the stocking. It must be a real bitch to put on if that's the case, and considering that she's probably going to have to do it for a very long time, I really feel bad for her. I don't know what to do—I can't just make my venous stasis go away. I've got to wear the stocking, or I could be in real physical trouble. She's off having dinner and a drink with some friends now. Said she needs it after this week. I can't say I blame her.

It'd be awfully hard to breathe it unless you were a coffee-breathing fish. Speaking of which, I sent some tuna salad and wafers down after the mess swirling around in my guts. Maybe it'll swim some sense into things. I asked Mrs. Prof about what time we're going to start getting ready. She's going to plug the figures into her map around 1:00 p.m. CDT and see what the map says. We do have an alternate route we can take, but it's long, twisty, and full of stop lights. There's no knowing which would be faster. Man, why did they have to give us a 4:20 p.m. CDT appointment, especially when they close at 4:30?

Dr. Do-Not-Want from UT Southwestern is an appropriate name. Oh, I just got the standard "Please Rate Our Doctors" questionnaire that most of the medical shacks in the D/FW Metroplex are using nowadays for Dr. Do-Not-Want. I'm going to let Mrs. Prof help me fill this one out. We're going to have great fun. I've finally finished the ENT doc paperwork, although for a time there I thought I'd never make it through the first page. Picture this unpleasant scene: opioid-induced constipation vs. antibiotic-induced diarrhea. Yep. Three trips and lots of pain each time before I'd finished half of the first page. The battle rages on, and I don't dare take anything stronger than a gas pill lest I risk ripping myself a new hole, literally. Hell, I haven't eaten anything other than pills and coffee (does coffee qualify as eating?) today. Maybe I should. Maybe it'd sponge things up.

8:21 a.m. CDT 20170621. Woke up feeling lousy, physically. Shortly past 4am. That seems to be a default now—sleep until my hydrocodone wears off, wake up, take it, and go back to sleep for a few more hours. Even after waking up at 7-somethinng-am, I still felt lousy. My right foot had swollen back up, despite sleeping with it elevated (and without the compression stocking). It's still puffed up. Drank some coffee and made everything feel worse. I may need a second cup to reverse the effects of the first cup. On top of this, I've got a grouchy Mrs. Prof to deal with, even after her morning coffee. Go figure. She'll have to deal with the Windows 10 Creators Update once she's off her work computer, so that'll serve her right. Furthermore, I've got a medical billing snafu from my PCP's appointments department. It has to do with the first time my edema flared up. He cancelled my appointment and sent me off for a venous ultrasound. Unfortunately, the appointments department counted that as a "no-show" and billed me anyway. Got a bill in the mail yesterday. I called them this morning and got them to admit to their error. They're in the process of fixing it now and are supposed to call me back once the situation is rectified. Now, for some reason, Mrs. Prof is making my second cup of coffee for me. Go figure again. We're on the wrong wavelengths today. I'm going to have to fill out my new patient paperwork for the ENT doctor in a short while. I was too sick to fill it out yesterday. I'll have to do it soon, since we'll need to leave extra early due to heavy rush-hour traffic on the one bridge over the lake separating the doctor's office from us. The thing is, the main symptom I was referred for (chronic cough) has mostly resolved itself. I've still got a problem with my voice, where my usual five-octave range (you read it right—five octaves, including a controlled falsetto) has been reduced to maybe an octave and a half, and I sound croaky at times. My PCP said he saw some trauma on the right side of my throat, so there may be something that can be fixed. Second cup of coffee consumed. Let's see if it helps. Off to the bathroom, then to the paperwork.

While we're waiting for more current pictures, here's one that popped up on Facebook from three years ago. We called her Mom, and she was the feral mother of our current cat, Baker: Very graceful. If only her rambunctious son had carried over that trait.

The kittens have been placed with another more experienced foster home as of tonight. Thank goodness, on behalf of both Mrs. Prof and myself. Cute as they may be, they consumed way too much of her time (she even admitted that) and interrupted her sleep to the point that she's going to probably crash out hard tonight. She's in the process of cleaning up the cage and feeding syringes. Our cat is going to be happy about this as well.

It was an initial consultation, so I don't think there's anything I can sue him over or any evidence I have in hand I can report him for. Fortunately, it was a final consultation as well, so I'm not going to be subjected to the possibility of sub-standard treatment from him.

Exactly. Mrs. Prof said he started doodling on his notepad halfway through my story. I'd say that's bad treatment, that others need to know about.

Quite. Now for one of mine. 3:27 p.m. CDT 20170620. As my left foot and big toe pain decreases, the constant pain in the right side of my back reasserts itself. My back pain has always been there—it's just been overshadowed by other things. Not anymore. It's been hurting like hell today. I can't tell if it goes all the way down to my foot, due to the compression stocking. That's covering a different source of pain that, once again, is overshadowing part of my radiating spinal pain. I took a moment today to research doctors on one of the online rating systems. My first back pain doctor got a 4½ star rating, surprisingly enough, but from an aggregate of only 9 reviews. The last one at UTSW got only 2 stars from 18 reviews. The one I asked to be referred to yesterday also has a 4½ star rating, but from 42 reviews. Looks like a substantial enough difference between him and the first doctor to give me hope that I'll get better treatment.

If Mrs. Prof has taken any pictures, she hasn't had time to post them or give any to me. Work, the kittens, and my doctors' appointments have consumed practically every moment of her life, in that order. The kittens are out of the house and at the Garland Pet Adoption Center, where someone can watch over them while she goes to her office today. They'll be back tonight (unless someone else agrees to foster them (I hope I hope I hope)). For the foreseeable future, the trail camera pics are therefore offline. Sorry.