Living Dead Kitty - Part 1

Everyone knows America's healthcare system is unusual at best for a 1st world country, but what it lacks for humans it easily makes up for in our pets.

It was a very interesting experience when my cat suddenly needed medical attention.  My parents fervently believed pets did not deserve medical attention if something catastrophic happened, but we never had many pets and the ones we did have mysteriously disappeared . . . I digress!  What happened to my furry child showed me an aspect of healthcare I never knew existed.

My rescue cat, Gibbs, was just a few weeks old when she was found by a friend.  I've had her ever since, and it's now been 6 years.  She's never had a health problem or even a small hitch - always an ideally healthy cat.

When I moved to a new apartment she was understandably upset.  I didn't think anything of it that she preferred to hide and loaf all day until one day i realized carrying her felt really strange.  she felt lighter, limp I suppose.  No matter what I did to her she did not respond; she simply looked in another direction and zoned out.  Her tongue hung out of her mouth and it was perfectly white.

Weird right?

She also had a strange odor coming from her mouth.  After a few minutes of brooding I decided to take her to see a vet.  She was unnaturally still throughout the entire drive.  When the medical assistant looked at her she immediately took her to the back room where they operate on animals.

Gibbs says no to homework

And no to puzzles

I was really freaking out by then.  An hour goes by - then two - and I'm sitting alone in the exam room thinking they must have forgot me there or something like that but the doctor finally arrives.  She looks like a 20 year old girl.    She says Gibbs is dying; she has mysteriously lost all her blood and is too weak to produce blood on her own.  Without a blood transfusion within the next few hours she'll die for sure.

Gibbs sick at the vet

I went home and brooded.  Do I follow my parents' mantra and let her die?  Or, do I save my devoted companion of the last 6 years?  I survived college only because she sat beside me through the whole thing and brought amusement and joy to me during the darkest times.  A cat who learned to obey commands like a dog!

Finally I decided I would pay the hefty bill to treat her, but that was only the beginning of that awful night.

I apparently had to fetch a blood transfusion for my cat, get her blood tested for a match, and pay for that too.  A little research went a long way.  I found a place in Portland, Oregon called Dove Lewis, a state of the art animal hospital that has cat transfusions at the ready.  I picked up a few samples of Gibb's blood, went downtown to fetch my brother's money, and drove across the Columbia River into Portland during rush hour traffic.  After dodging hipsters here and there, I finally made it to the Pearl district where the fabulous hospital resides.  I handed them the blood samples and they immediately took off to run tests.  I waited there an hour, but when they returned they handed me a brown paper bag with blood and all the equipment necessary for a blood transfusion.  Apparently the cats in the Portland-Metro area are blood related.

$420 dollars later I'm leaving the hospital with a blood transfusion.

I drive it back to Vancouver and to the animal hospital where they take it to the operating room.  Another two hours go by with me sitting there and waiting without an idea of what's happening.  They promised me i could see my cat, but no one came to fetch me.  I hounded the front office staff about her progress, but they simply said they needed more time.  I never thought i would get so concerned about a pet; to go such great lengths to save her.

Finally they let me in the operating room to see Gibbs.  She looked terrible.  She clearly lost her mind and was looking around as though in a fog.  The vet said she was worried Gibbs wouldn't have lasted another hour if I came any later with the blood transfusion.  She let me have a moment alone with Gibbs who didn't recognize me.  Seeing her in such a state was a painful experience.

Eventually I had to call the vet over to me - I had passed out on the floor.  Definitely embarrassing and painful.

I didnt sleep well that night.  In the morning I visited her again and found her in an exceptionally good condition compared to the night before.  She was eating, walking around, and trying to clean herself.  I reached in the cage and she gave me one of those cat hugs.  That night I took her home and had never seen that cat so excited - jumping all over the place, practically climbing the walls.  30 seconds after she was free she fell asleep on her food dish and was fast asleep the whole night.

I'm not sure for whom this was more terrifying: me or her?

~ Chelsea

All Hail The Drunken Peasants!

Foul-mouthed, fat, ugly middle aged men with a camera sit in what appears to be a small . . . closet?

Sound appealing?  Perhaps if you're into wickedly weird orgies.

Fortunately for Youtube viewers Ben, Scotty, and (sometimes) TJ keep their shirts on.  For a few hours a week these three (mostly) entertain the masses by discussing the creepy shit people post online while convincingly drunk.

Most often they scrutinize conspiracy theorists, christian fundamentalists, and bullshit in the news.  These guys tend to pair comedy with logical quips of witticism surprisingly well.  It took me a few episodes to come around since Drunken Peasants is an acquired taste, but now I admit it's hilarious.

My favorite concept of the show is the guests/ victims who either agree to chat with them or their videos are commandeered for our viewing pleasure.  They break down each video or guest and turn it into a perceptive joke, but the logic behind their jokes runs deeper than simply making fun of a stupid idea.

Guests or regulars featured on the show are many popular gamers on Youtube with play-allongs.

Also, super right-winged- religious fanatics - self-proclaimed "ministers" or "preachers" with crack-pot, inconceivably bizarre ideas are often featured on the show, which is really entertaining because every week these crazy religious fanatics with internet access and a camera post something new and completely strange.  The Peasants dive into their bizarre content and rip it apart with the logic that these fanatics lack.

Such guests include G-Man - who claims slavery should be legal because slavery is in the bible.  Mind you - the man is black.  Also, he claims there are no starving Christian children in the world.

Bret Keane - a very unpopular christian fundamentalist who just posts weird random shit

The Vigilant Christian, Mario - SO FUNNY!  This guy scans through everything in eye-sight for triangles and calls it Illuminati subliminal messaging, or interprets pop culture icons, music, and etc. as Illuminati agents planting a new world order agenda in our brains.  Hilarious.

G-Man Johnny -  an aging hippie rapping while on LSD.  Need I say more?

The Creationist Cat - a satirical cat claiming to talk to God.

And a Canadian PhD named Jean-Francois, a bio-evolution scientist - Frankly, this guy is a genius and one of the leading scientists in his field . . . what the hell is he doing with the Drunken Peasants?  They bring him on the show to rebuke the creationism backers in some kind of commentary/debate.  But, most of the time "J.F." sits there quietly while the Peasants rant and occasionally chimes in with a very thick French accent.  Although, compared to the Peasants, JF is very pleasant to look at.

   

Falling In Love Is Not Losing Independance

Oh Lordy!  Love notoriously makes people do strange things.  By Love I refer specifically to my love - Said.  FYI: he's a Muslim from North Africa.  Most people gasp when they learn who he is, but they usually forget Said is a man and any man can fall in love or be a Muslim.

Recently we had some good news: our fiance visa application was approved, making our relationship legally recognized.  However, when posting this news on the all-powerful Facebook not all friends and family were supportive of the idea.  It doesn't bother me to know people are skeptics, but what does get on my nerves (as I'm sure it does with other interfaith couples) is people giving me advice by implying I don't know what I'm doing.

Marriage is like the Oregon Trail; it's long, rough, and extremely unpleasant.  But, the journey is with the person you love and sometimes it's best just to sit back and enjoy the scenery.  Marriage is tough enough without adding complicated religious, social, and economic differences as substantial as mine and Said's.

People who know me - and for those who don't - I can say I'm passionately independent and  well educated.  On top of that I have been with Said for 6 years. I know what kind of deal I'm getting and I plan on surviving every storm in life - and having a better relationship for it. 

~ Chelsea

Where I Work

I consider myself lucky I have my own office and private bathroom.  Very Lucky.

Except - it's in an abandoned medical ward in a condemned hospital.  Sound appealing?  Yeah, I often wonder how many people died in the little hole in the wall that is my patient room - office, I mean.

The walls are white, but yellowing from age.  The useless ceiling tiles are brown with leak stains, which can't be a good sign.  I have it on good authority that no one has worked on the roof in years, or even looked up there to see how things are - if we have black mold, green mold, or corpses.  When I get a cold it sticks with me for weeks and i feel it in my lungs.

If that wasn't bad enough imagine having your office directly below the in-patient mental ward, which is used regularly.  The Death Star-like company that owns all the hospitals in town uses the condemned building to house everything unwanted, discarded like storage - rooms and rooms of storage - the suicide people - urgent care for whiners, daredevil kids, and the cold season rush.  The only insurance companies willing to contract with the Death Star is Medicaid, an equally undesired contractor.  They shoved the low paid residence in the hospital's residency program into a small, crowded clinic inside the poorly built, condemned building, and made it the go-to place for most Medicaid patients.  The undesired are moved over here, far from the multimillion dollar pay checks of my fearless leaders.

Very often, mostly in winter, we'll get a transient or drug user come strolling into the abandoned surgical ward where my office is - thinking this is the back door of the urgent care clinic, and badly surveillanced drugs.  Believe it or not old people make a very large percentage of drug abusers.  They're old . . . it's reasonable to prescribe them pain killers and opiates, but they get a tolerance to it and crave the feeling they get when they're on the drugs.  Some of them perform self-sabotage to give them more health conditions requiring drugs - I speak from experience.

As a caregiver I worked for an elderly woman who had a hospital bed in her room and was completely bed ridden, but there was nothing wrong with her.  At least not physically.  She was in a tragic accident probably thirty years ago and seemingly was injured and unable to walk or do anything.  As a result she went through a ghastly number of doctors, accumulating prescriptions to stop her pain until she eventually got Fentynol, a powerful opiate given to cancer patients and people having heart attacks.  One doctor after another him-hawed over whether they should cut the drug cord, but she would just find a different doctor.  And I've seen her x-rays; the woman hoards everything possible,she has no injuries.

It's important to stay busy otherwise all of these things get overwhelming pretty damn fast.  I didn't mention the ghosts - meh . . . later.  I love stories so please comment to "out-workplace" my terrible workplace.