Imperceptibly....

Milkshake has started to eat. I can't say exactly when. Not a lot, and not particularly enthusiastically, but he shows up now in the kitchen at meal times, and even though he may not eat when I first put his bowl down, the chances are very good that he'll be back to sniff and eat a little bit two or three or four times. We've been out of the homemade raw food (except for some wonderful extra chicken chunks that Dian sent!) for more than a week now, between my getting sick and Scruffy's laser surgery, and Milk's probably the most enthusiastic raw chicken eater of the six cats, so I think when the raw returns, he' ll be delighted. I can't believe I have six cats.

What does this do to my previous, probably half-baked theory about his phenobarb level and the degree of anorexia? Don't know. And I really don't want to drag him to the vet yet again for bloodwork.

I also tested my "Are paint fumes a trigger?" theory again this week, with two days of painting the living room and hall. To my relief and delight - no seizures, although I woke up two mornings in a row CONVINCED that I'd heard him foaming and growling. Both times, he was just sitting there peacefully. (I'm a little embarrassed to bring this up, but I did have one MORE theory fermenting in my mind - the "Marin would be good for helping his liver to deal with the assault of phenobarbital every day" proposition. The jury's still out on that one, but I'm inclined to credit the Marin with contributing to the much longer periods between seizures, and to the less overwhelming numbers of consecutive seizures. I am absolutely convinced that milk thistle has been the salvation of my own liver, and I think it's helping my little Milk. And if it's not, I don't want to know. Sometimes, self-delusion can be a wonderful thing.....)

And sometimes, it's better to have your OWN napping place, where your "brother" can't show up after you're already settled and plop down on top of you:

Mustn't have been the paint....

I was thinking that maybe the paint I'm using in the living room, etc. might have been a trigger for Milk that set off the last few seizures. I didn't have any record of when I painted. I did always make sure that the fan was on and the house was well ventilated, but.... Anyway, I painted quite a bit on Saturday, and - although I woke up Sunday morning again convinced I heard him starting to foam - but he wasn't; he was just sitting across the room from me, looking perfectly normal. Thank goodness.

Gonna have to decide what to do about the next order of Keppra. These 500 mg pills are huge and very unwieldy. I know several people who have the "triple beam" scientific scales, or whatever they're called, so they can give precise dosages. While I know that would be desirable, I don't know if I could manage it. Despite the significant difference in cost between the 500's and the 250's, the 250's were much easier to chop and give to him. I have plenty of time to decide, I guess; the best thing about the 500's is that the two bottles have lasted and lasted. He's still getting 1/2 marin tablet twice a day, too. I firmly believe that it's doing SOMETHING. Well, no, I don't know what, I just think somehow it's helping his liver process the phenobarb more safely. And I am convinced that these longer periods between seizures (knock on wood 13 times!) have some relationship to the marin. Whether they do or not is really irrelevant; the fact remains that I believe it...

This was so NOT a seizure.......

but I have no idea what it actually was. (I have to preface this by saying that I've had a horrible cough and cold for five days and have been taking Sudafed pills. "Non-drowsy" - which means that I haven't had more than two hours sleep at any one time since last Tuesday, although I've done virtually nothing BUT sleep.) S0, suddenly I wake up, it's 5:45 AM, and Milkshake is standing, kind of hunched over and with his neck very oddly extended, between my knees, facing me. Picture those museum displays of the pre-historic sabre-toothed tiger - pointy head, sharp teeth exposed....... It reminded me of those really bad Japanese monster movies from the 50's, where the obviously fake plastic monster/dinosaur kept "lunging" at the shrieking victims. Despite the darkness, I could see that his mouth was open and his teeth were gleaming in the dark. (High praise for Dian's raw chicken chunks!) And, in the background, was this horrible, subterranean, rumbling, gurgling noise - a sort of combination volcanic/sewer kind of rumbling. So, because of the mouth action - is that called "rictus" - some sort of death movement of the muscles? - all I could think to do was to pet him ferociously, in the hopes of waking him up, unfreezing his muscles, and maybe subverting any possible seizure activity. He truly did seem to be getting ready to salivate all over the place, or maybe he had something stuck in his throat. I went from the top of his head to as far as I could reach down his back over and over again, all the while asking him repeatedly - and I'm sure, to his great annoyance - if he was okay and would he please NOT have a seizure. He moved out of my reach, and then again assumed that weird dinosaur position with his neck twisted out of shape and his mouth open and seeming to snarl. I leaned forward to pet him heartily again, at which point I realized that that subterranean rumbling was coming from ME - apparently the unpleasant disgusting glop in my lungs needed to reposition itself when I sat up. (I am trying to take some comfort here from the fact that it wasn't my CAT'S chest making a noise like that, although it's a stretch.) At any rate, he abruptly flopped down and tucked one leg behind his head and finished what may have just been an out-of-control grooming session. And then HE went to sleep.

And now it's ten minutes to seven and I'm awake and already stewing about Scruffy's surgery tomorrow. I really didn't need this. I guess I should just be grateful that it wasn't a seizure. Yeah, that's the ticket. Grateful.

ADDENDUM: And neither was whatever was going on at 8AM, I don't think. I had laid down on the couch after the previous episode, and was rudely awakened an hour later by a cat shrieking, and multiple cats slamming around and racing all over the place. It sounded like Milk's meow, and Busy is still chewing on Milk, although he's now expanded his menu to include Cinnaminnie and Tootle if he can get close enough to them. I called Milker, and he came rather uncertainly up the stairs. Seemed wobbly. BUT - his head wasn't wet, nor was any other part of his body. And I had to coax him into the kitchen, and then follow him back out to the living room with a bowl of FF. Therefore, I am declaring this event also as "No Seizure." With hope in my heart and exhaustion in my head.

I'm going back to sleep now because as the day rolls on, we get closer to having to pill and eyedrop Milk and Scruffy at 2AM, and Scruffy has to leave for the hospital at 7:15AM. Sleep now. That's my priority for today. And not dreaming about The Puffer and his laser surgery.

The Non-Magic #50

Six days, two hours, 15 minutes or so. Quite a bit later in the morning than usual - so there was plenty of light to see him this time. All of these most recent seizures, say the last 5 or 6, have been different from the ones earlier in the summer before the 102-day break. The most striking difference to me, is the increased amount of time that it seems to take now for him to recover. It was an entire 24 hours after the last seizure before he was physically able to confidently jump or even walk up the steps to the window ledge. He was not only wobblier than usual, he didn't seem to have the coordination between his brain and his front legs. It is worrying. On the other hand, everything's worrying. My tolerance for all this seems to have significantly decreased, especially since my mother's diagnosis. One dying brain is all I can deal with at a time, I guess.

Today's event: Let's see. Started up with virtually no fanfare. Hardly any growling/snarling until well into the seizure and even then, the volume was much reduced. Salivation evident after it was over because the sheet and his head were wet, but I didn't see foam all over his face. A moderate amount of flopping. Longer than usual, I think, although that's subjective; sometimes I'm trying so hard to concentrate on remembering what he's doing that I'm not keeping good track of the time. I would guess this was at least 30 seconds, possibly longer. At least twice, the flopping slowed down and I thought he was done, but he wasn't. He was bouncing pretty high, but not particular violently, compared to other seizures. The end was very abrupt, as usual - it was like he was just deflated, popped like a balloon with a pin. And then there were a series of five or six very hard jerks that involved his entire body. And what seemed like eye contact with him - he looked SURPRISED, somehow; I don't remember ever feeling like he saw that I was there after a seizure before. Afterwards, he lay absolutely still for at least five minutes. Normally, he jumps down and heads for the kitchen to eat ravenously. Today, he jumped down, but he seemed confused about what he wanted to do. He started off in the wrong direction, and even when I called him to come the other way, to the kitchen to get something to eat, he seemed uncertain. He ate when I put a dish of Fancy Feast down for him, but not as intensely as normal. I left the kitchen to do something, and he didn't follow, but he apparently did stop eating - he was in the living room when I came back. He ate a little more, and then came and sat behind my chair. He climbed up onto the desk once, and seemed to want to go to the window ledge, but I was hesitant to let him make the jump, so I helped him get his feet onto the steps. He went unsteadily up the last step, turned around and came back down, and then just meatloafed on the rug. I went and got him a kitty pi because it's kind of cold here today - supposed to be a high in the 50's, I think - and he curled up in it. As I was typing that, he showed up on the desk again. He's so unstable that, while petting him, it's hard not to make him tilt over. I haven't been able to weigh him lately - (long story involving painting the living room and dining room) - but I'd guess that his weight is under 9 pounds. Possibly a good bit under 9 pounds. His spine is painfully prominent. I have been bottle feeding him once or twice a day for the last week. Multiple trips on and off the desk have been occurring now; he just stole my pen, but then didn't seem to know what he wanted to do with it.

Maybe the most striking thing about today's seizure was his eyes. I have never noticed before (the light's seldom sufficient) , but today, his pupils were hugely dilated for almost a half hour after the seizure ended. Gigantic and all black.

I'm kind of scattered these days - yeah, more than usual - and yesterday, I absolutely couldn't remember if I'd given him his 6:00 Keppra and Marin. (I even have a chart to keep track of his pills; I just haven't been doing it.) I tried every way I could to figure it out, but..... I could remember the AM pills, and a couple of the previous day's, but nothing for 6 PM. SO, around 8:30 PM, when it had occurred to me to worry about it, I ended up giving him another 1/4 and a "chunk" of Keppra. I was afraid that he'd seem overdosed, but he didn't act any differently the rest of the evening, so I'm left to wonder if maybe he didn't actually get extra medication, and maybe this seizure occurred because that dose was late? Seems unlikely, though. I'm thinking that it happened, well, because it COULD and DID. I just remembered now, too, while I was fixing this morning's load of pills for him, that the phenobarb last night was a problem - the counter had wet spots that I didn't notice were there until I'd put two phenobarb pills down in them, intending to break the pills in half. They turned into a chalky mess almost the second they got damp. Then a third one fell on the floor, and a fourth, my fingernail must have had a little water underneath it, and when I tried to crack the pill, it got wet on top, as opposed to the bottom. And, to top off a not-particularly-admirable performance as feline caretaker/medicator, the Pill Pocket - FINALLY loaded with the correct amount of phenobarb, fell out of his mouth and onto the floor, which required starting everything all over again. Not one of my finer moments.

All in all, I'm not so surprised by this seizure. Disappointed, and sad, and wishing it hadn't been, but it's become obvious that I have only the most minimal effect on the workings of my sweet Milk's sad little brain, and there's not much point in getting hysterical about it. And I'm sure the knot in my stomach will go away soon......