Friday morning Sadie began horking up bile. Nothing else, just bile. Each time she horked, she acted like she was chewing on something and we thought that maybe she’d eaten something she shouldn’t have and got it stuck in her throat, or something like that. She was quiet all day — totally NOT Sadie. Sadie isn’t just an energetic kitten, she is FRANTIC with energy and this was totally out of character for her. She laid in bed with Lisa when Lisa laid down for a nap — totally NOT Sadie. By Saturday morning she was extremely lethargic, and still horking up bile. I decided she needed to be seen by a vet. Under normal circumstances, our vet’s office is open all day Saturday. But, this past Saturday was, of course, a holiday so we ended up having to take her to the Animal Emergency Services. We were told it would be $90 just to walk in the door.

We described her typical behavior and our concern about the lethargy. We told the vet that Sadie is just into everything, she has no fear, and is a chewer. We expressed fear that she had eaten something she shouldn’t have, although there are no plants or poisons just laying about in our house. Blood was drawn and tested, and came back with normal liver enzymes, etc. The vet sent us home with an antibiotic and a suggestion to buy 10 mg. Pepcid, quarter it, and give Sadie a quarter tab if she didn’t vomit any more. She said if the vomiting didn’t stop, we should bring her back in. We left AES $344 lighter, but without any real answers.

Sunday morning there was no change. She was still lethargic and still dry heaving so, we took her back to AES where we consented to let them sedate her and x-ray her tummy. As we feared, the x-ray showed an intestinal blockage, although it didn’t reveal anything specific. The vet explained to us that she would need surgery to remove whatever was blocking her tummy and gave us an estimate of what the surgery would cost. I was reduced to tears when I saw the estimate: $2,050-3,985.

I manage all our money (by mutual agreement) and I do it very well. Every single penny is accounted for and strictly budgeted. Unlike an ex of mine who ran up credit card debt knowing full well she couldn’t afford to pay it off and with every intention of filing for bankruptcy, we use our credit cautiously and judiciously. We HAVE to because I am the only one in the house with a regular income and we have to make ends meet on my salary alone. Anything Lisa makes doing handiwork is gravy. So, I knew we could swing the low end of that estimate but there was just no way we were going to be able to swing anything above that.

We told the vet that we just couldn’t afford more than the $2,000 (which was actually our Christmas money) and were told that if we couldn’t afford the surgery, the “humane” thing to do would be to euthanize poor little Sadie. While Lisa copped attitude and told the vet “I’m not going to let you kill my cat just because I can’t afford this surgery,” I was less diplomatic, dropping the “eff bomb” and pointing out that the “humane” thing to do would be to treat the animal and NOT make it all about the money but that, obviously, the animals weren’t as important to them as money. Oh yeah, I went OFF!

Now, here’s the thing. I totally GET that this is a business and the object of business is to make money. However, this particular place has “board certified” surgeons and vets so you pay twice as much for them as for non-certified vets. Frankly, I couldn’t give two shits about their fancy board certification — all I cared about was that my little Sadie was in trouble and they only cared about whether we could pay to get her out of trouble. I told the vet “Just give me back my cat and I’ll take her home. If she’s going to die, it’s going to be at home in our arms, not here!” The vet said she’d have to have me sign an A.M.A. and I told her I didn’t have to sign SHIT and wasn’t going to make their life any easier. Fuck ‘em.

The vet left the exam room, telling us to talk it over. We anguished. We cried. We raged and we cried some more. What were we going to do?

Lisa grabbed her phone and left the room. Fifteen minutes later she was back with the news that a client that she was doing major renovation work for (and also a friend) had said that she’d loan us the money because she knew that Lisa would work it off. So, we consented to the surgery with the provision that, if Sadie wasn’t in acute distress the following morning, we would transfer her post-operative care over to our own vet. Lisa pointed out that Sadie already had an appointment for the next day for her last FELV shot and to make an appointment to spay her. Lisa asked if they could do that while they had her opened up because the “humane” thing would be to not have to subject her to another surgery in a few weeks. They agreed and promised to spay her.

We were told we’d have to leave a “deposit” which would equal the lower end of the full estimate. I used one of their computers to go online to check our gold card to see how much credit we had available. $2,115 was all the “cushion” we had and I told the receptionist that I didn’t want her to put any more than $2,000 on the card. She asked “Will $1,900 do?” I consented and so we walked out of that place on Sunday another $1,900 lighter, with more care expenses looming on the horizon.

About 3:00 they called to tell us Sadie was out of surgery. They’d found a string that went from her esophagus, through her small intestines, into the large intestines and that, near her colon they felt a lump which they assumed to be some sort of small toy. They “milked” the lump into her colon and expected that she would pass it in the next 24 to 48 hours. They said they removed the string and spayed her as well and that, if she didn’t vomit again and was able to accept food and water, she could be released to us either Monday evening or Tuesday morning. I reminded them that we’d be transferring Sadie’s care to our own vet the next morning unless Sadie was in acute distress. Our own vet called us Sunday night and agreed to assume Sadie’s care. She gave us some instruction on what to get from AES and gave a few words of comfort.

Sunday was also our 5th wedding anniversary. We weren’t feeling particularly festive but we’d purchased some crab legs and a bottle of champagne a few days prior (a big splurge for us) for our celebration. We decided to go ahead at least with the meal and the champagne, but our hearts were pretty heavy and not much into celebration.

Monday morning we were at AES by 8:00 ready to pick Sadie up. She was getting an IV antibiotic and we had to wait about 45 minutes for her. She was clearly happy to see us, as she began to meow and YOWL loudly — very much like the old Sadie. At checkout, we were charged an additional $60.

We delivered Sadie to our own veterinarian/veterinary hospital where she received top rate care for the next 24 hours. She was discharged to us on Tuesday with another bill of $254. Within an hour of returning home, Sadie pooped, and passed the foreign object they’d “milked” into her colon. A rubber band.

Sadie is currently wearing a “lampshade” so she doesn’t lick her tummy, which is held together by some subcutaneous sutures, and 14 staples externally. Her little legs were shaved just above the paws, for about an inch’s length, giving her a groomed poodle sort of look. She is currently being confined to a large dog crate so that she doesn’t run and jump (and be Sadie) and hurt herself. She is on a special prescription food for intestinal health, which costs as much for a 5 lb. bag as a 22 lb. bag of Iams. And, of course, the other cats are VERY intrigued with this expensive food.

So, only 18 weeks old, this past weekend with Sadie cost us $2,558.  Add to that the previous vet visits and this little Spawn of Satan has cost us $3,088.  That’s $171.55 a week!  She’s lucky she’s cute and we love her so much!

But, all’s well that ends well. At least for now.

This is Sadie 24 hours post-surgery.  She was positively EMACIATED from having had no solid foods for almost 5 days.

Fourteen staples in that little tummy.  OUCH!

IVs in both legs — they had to shave ‘em.  Fashionable, eh?

Conehead kitty. Life of the party wearing the lampshade.