Home Sweet Furry Home

Cherubino has returned and I am about to give him his first tube feeding at home. I just gave him some medicine through the peg tube and all went well. It is surprisingly easy and, more remarkably, he sits still for it.

Tomorrow I hope to post a picture of my little guy in his sweater.

More from the Back-and-Forth Department

I forgot one of Yelena's evolving skills. She loves to play ball. Both rolling and throwing back-and-forth. She's got a good arm. And she never seems to tire of playing.

And now for something completely more uplifting

With all this kitty trauma one might think Yelena is on the back burner. Mais non! I finally broke into the Vosges chocolate bar Eli got me, so I have loads of energy to blog about her now.

The dumpling is as cute as ever and learning a few new tricks. No, she's not crawling so just stop f#$%ing asking already. If crawling were so great why aren't you doing it right now?

She's getting better at standing and, when she gets tired goes into this surfer squat, sometimes pushing herself back up. (The pediatrician was concerned that she's not pulling up, but rather pushing up with her legs. This concern is strange to me since, when you or I stand up, don't we push up with our legs? Isn't this preferable to grabbing on to something and yanking ourselves up? Oh why why why can't they just let my baby develop at her own speed in her own style? I got the pushy baby developmental blues.) She is also gripping the side of the crib once she's standing and leaning on the sofa to stand and reach. Sometimes she's barely holding on to me at all and has even moved her left foot forward a few times. She seems naturally cautious, so I think she is waiting to pull up and cruise until she knows she's not going to flop over. I feel we are on the precipice of something very exciting.

This week she has gotten more conversational. I say something, she says something incomprehensible back and we go back and forth a bit. I don't think she knows that shaking her head means, "no" but she knows it means something. Friday I asked her, "Did you have fun on our walk?" Smile and head shake. "Are you hungry?" Smile and head shake. We did this for a while.

Her best trick is when she wants to nurse or have some water she gives a fake cough. She's been doing it pretty consistently at only the appropriate times that it is undeniably a form of communication. Subtle.

From the wishful thinking department: sometimes she looks at me and says, "Uma." It's a little erratic, usually when I come back into a room, and it's probably just a happy sound. But here's dreaming!

Visiting Hours

The somewhat diminished but just as lovely Big Blue Ru is still in the hospital but is set to come home tomorrow (Monday). He is recovering well from the surgery, with his vitals stronger every day and no fever or other negative reactions. The first feedings through the peg tube went well and he even ate on his own last night. They fed him a fish head. I didn't ask if it was rolly polly.

We all visited him on Saturday and I went alone today. He is wearing a sweater so we couldn't really see the feeding tube. I didn't ask for a better look since I will have to start dealing with it in a much more intimate fashion tomorrow. What did break my heart a little more is that his right forepaw is wrapped with the heplock going into it. In addition to a multitude of woes, the poor little guy is denied access to a grooming appendage. At least that will be off tomorrow.

I spent some quality time with him today, since I didn't have the distraction of a baby. The vet tech brought him in, plopped him in my lap and Cheru stayed there for 45 minutes while I pet him and read. When he gets home, he's not supposed to jump or run -- which he doesn't really seem in the mood for but give him a few days -- so we're going to buy a large dog cage for him to sit in when I'm unable to be with him. There will be room for him to walk around, see what's going on and socialize with the other cats while we can still monitor what he's eating and keep him from injuring himself. I imagine we'll be watching a lot of movies and doing a lot of reading in the next few weeks after Yelena's asleep, so Cheru can cuddle in one of our laps.

Despina and Theo seem sad, so it will be especially great to have him back home for their sakes as well. We miss our Buddha.

Looking Up-date

Thankfully, there is no sign of lymphoma in Cheru's liver. He had the feeding tube put in and is recovering well from anesthesia, rubbing up against the oncologist. In 24 hours they can start feeding him through it. We will visit him tomorrow and he will be home either Sunday or Monday.

We all miss him so much.

Correction

They are about to asperate Cheru's liver to ensure it's hepatic lipidocis. If it is, then they'll put in the feeding tube. (Which will only be in there until he's regained health and the disease is treated.) There is a chance that the lymphoma has spread into his liver. If that's the case, then it's pretty much the end of the line.

Sad sad sad

Briefly, Cheru is still in the hospital. The lymphoma is still in remission, although his white blood cell count is low. However, he has hepatic lipidocis (sp?) or, as those who took their Latin know, fatty liver. That explains the anorexia. They're giving him fluids and vitamins and testing to see how his coagulation is, so we can decide if we want a feeding tube put in his stomach, which we can then use, once he's home, to feed him and administer the medicines -- for both the cancer and now the liver -- without him throwing them up. I talked to the oncologist and our vet and, as grusome as the whole thing sounds, it has a high probability of working.

Of course, all of this is outrageously expensive, but what can you do? This is Cherubino we're talking about. The oncologist said he was rubbing up against him during today's procedures and very affection with all the vet techs, which they rarely see. Here's praying.

When the cat's away the mice are sad and lonely

Cherubino isn't doing so great. For a few weeks he was showing signs of increased health: weight gain and stabilization and a bit more pluck. We started him again on the prednisone and, whether that was a trigger or merely timing, he started declining again. He is now about 11.5 lbs. (maybe less since we haven't the heart to weigh him yet this week), is not eating and has figured out how to throw up his pills once we give them to him. Although he still comes in to sleep with me at night and is gentle, he pretty much sleeps in one or two spots upstairs all day, not coming down to play at all or even great us or guests. This from a cat who would come running the second he heard the front door, jumping on guests like a dog. He's not unkempt but, for a cat who used to be incredibly vain, his fur is a bit ruffled, as if he's not bothering grooming very much. I can count his vertebrae and feel all the bones of his pelvis. It's terrible.

Tonight Eli drove him out to Buffalo Grove (BFBG) so the oncologist can see him first thing tomorrow morning. This is the first time he's spent the night away from home since he was fixed. (Although, even then, it might have been a one day thing, I can't quite remember.) The thought of him alone in a kennel surrounded by other sick animals makes me queasy, but the oncologist is leaving for a vacation on Friday and this is the only way he can be seen before July 6. I'm praying the oncologist can recommend something to get him over this hump -- I'm willing to bring him in for chemo every week if I need to -- but I'm not too optimistic. Hopefully they can give him an IV and help me with suggestions to put a little weight and strength back in my brave boy.

Very sad.

Happy Bloomsday

Stately, plump Yelena and I are taking advantage of Eli's odyssey to Atlanta, hardly the Dublin of the South, and are half-way through Ulysses.

Ravinia

Gramma is in town and accompanied us, and Tony and Eric, to Ravinia to see Elvis Costello with Alan Toussaint. It was a great concert and Yelena loved her first trip, ex utero, to Ravinia. Eli took these with his phone, since no one thought to bring a real camera. The first one is before the concert and the second one about an hour into the show. She needed a power nap to make in through the generous encores!

Preparing for the World Cup

New use for Old New Yorkers

More regarding crawling. Yelena is starting to dig her knees in a bit when doing the land swimming thing. If I put my hands of the soles of her feet so she can use them to push off, she will work her arms and drag across the floor. That is if there is something in front of her she wants. The flashing light musical stacker: no. A block or stuffed animal: not really. Her egg shaker: more likely. A New Yorker: go, go, go! Constantly moving a New Yorker an inch out of her reach, she will cross the entire width of the rumpus room. PAPER! It doesn't work as well with other magazines -- the thickness of the New Yorker's paperstock has that je ne sais quois that babies love. Problem: she managed to work faster than I could and ripped a page right out of the Martin Amis short story. Everyone's a critic.

Skim babyccino with a shot of lame

Today Yelena and I tried a free class at Gymboree. Thank God it was free, since I would have been greatly irritated if I had paid for it. With the pediatrician breathing down my neck about her crawling (although everyone else insists it's no longer even considered a developmental milestone) I thought taking her to a physical-oriented class might not be a bad idea. Well, this one was. It was the Starbucks of early childhood education. The only benefits were Yelena seeing other children and the bouncy equipment they have -- which the kids only played on for 10 minutes in unstructured play, with no guidance from the instructor. The 5 minutes of blowing bubbles and playing parachute were fun, although a piece of the parachute backing peeled off on my hands. The teacher was not engaging at all (makes us appreciate Valerie at Suzuki more), there were too many kids, the mothers were way too North Shore for my comfort level and quite cliquey, and the singing was lame -- especially since most of the songs worked "Gymboree" into the lyrics as branding. Oh, and Gymbo the Clown -- yikes.

I also got bit. Yup. I was bit by a child probably for the first time since my brother chomped on my plump little baby arm or, at least, since preschool. Caleb, in a yellow shirt, crawled up to me and bit my thankfully socked foot. It hurt. His mother apologized sheepishly. "He usually only bites me. See, I have these bruises all over my arms. He's never bit anyone else before. You should be flattered." And you should get your child a frigging teether. I told her it was ok, but I sure didn't smile about it.

Yelena did like watching all the other children, although I am realizing she does not act like a typical baby. A whole bunch of babies were crawling all over each other in a drooly crying mosh pit while she looked on calmly. When playing with a ball Yelena did her new object routine: pick up, turn around to see all angles, shift from hand to hand a few times, bring to mouth for a quick lick, drop, pick up, throw. A boy crawled up to the ball and, without sitting up or missing a beat, unhinged his jaw like a crocodile, salivated all over it, and then crawled away. Yelena did smile and say, "Ooo" or "Oh," or "Ba-ah?" when kids came up to her but -- and perhaps I am reading too much of my own school room mishigos into this -- she seemed quite apart from the other children. Not antisocial, since she was quite cheerful and happy, just not part of the gang. Maybe because she doesn't crawl or maybe because she spends most of her time with adults (which worked for generations of European aristocracy), but she appeared quite different from a dozen randomly selected babies. Well, a dozen randomly selected babies whose mothers like Gymboree. In her Suzuki and swim classes I never got this impression, even though the other kids are more physical, so maybe it is the Gymboree thing. I shall not return.

Tomorrow we try out a Wiggleworms class at Old Town School of Folk Music.

Dance-a-thon

Both yesterday and today I did a 3 hour dance workshop. I could have done 2 each day, but 12 hours of dancing within 30 hours is too much for my brain, if not my body. I was away for about 4-5 hours each day, which is actually the longest I've gone Yelena-less in the past 10 months, except when she's sleeping at night. Neither Yelena nor Daddy seemed to miss me.

Magda and Atef Farag, members of Cairo's Reda Troupe, were in town. Saturday I took a Saidi and Nubian workshop and today a Melaya and Ghawazee workshop. My butt was kicked so hard. Atef led both workshops with Magda, thankfully, helping out with the more feminine versions of the steps. They went crazy fast. The dances in and of themselves weren't necessarily difficult -- if they were learned over a 4-6 week class, instead of in an hour-and-a-half. The classes were also very full, which made it difficult to see the steps at all times, and Atef didn't really call out the steps (bump - camel walk - cross - 3 step turn) and when he did he didn't always use the terms with which I'm familiar. I fared ok yesterday with the Saidi dance. (The Nubian wasn't as much as a challenge for me since it's a lot like West African dance -- I wouldn't mind doing more of it, but it is very different even from most folkloric belly dance, let alone classical Oriental.) Today I was lost. After a half-hour, I put down my veil and just concentrated on the foot work. Even then it was too much too fast, and then my brain couldn't remember the order of the choreography. I talked to Jasmin afterwards, saying I felt out of my depth, and she reassured me that it was very difficult and that they took on way too much for the amount of time. I left feeling intimidated and invigorated.

Bambina is up from her nap and trying to type, which is my cue to go play with my 10 monther.

Budding Pirhana

We have a tooth!

Friday night I definitely felt something sharp and ridgy poking through Yelena's lower gum. Upon offering her my finger as a chew toy tonight I felt a bit more of it. For the record, let's say her first official tooth emerged right on her ten month birthday!

Majorly major

Why are all baby toys in major keys? Yelena got a cute little toy tiger xylophone/piano combo from Bubbie when we were in Erie. She likes hitting the keys, just like on our big kids electric piano, but it's in C major, without any accidentals. Ditto her Octotunes octopus. All her musical toys play stuff like "Twinkle Twinkle," which is majorly major. Listen to a kids album and it's all major. Why? Do children intrinsically like the major scale? Do adults perceive it as happier and thus more tot suitable?

Ever since she was tiny -- as opposed to little, like she is now -- Yelena has really enjoyed us playing scales. Like stop playing with the spinning gorilla on the Exersaucer and smiling enjoyment of scales. She particularly grooves on me playing harmonic minor scale or dominant scales/arpeggios in the circle of 5ths. Now, I'm not suggesting she's musically advanced (oh, who am I kidding -- of course I think she's musically advanced. She's got a much better sense of rhythm than that guy who davened Musaf a few weeks back.), but perhaps toy makers should break out of this major mold.