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Wheels Keep On Turning
Jan. 4th, 2007 11:08 pmMy Heleny thing had surgery on Tuesday for her tumour, at which point the vet also checked out her (lack of) eye. I guess I post a lot about the babies, but the other side of rats is that they don't live long, and especially rats from unknown lines are prone to some scary and expensive illnesses.
Both Sprite and Helen went in for lump removals, Sprite is at this point doing very very well, Helen is drinking kitten formula but not eating on her own yet. The vet checked her eye out, I've been keeping antibiotic drops in it, and said there was basically no eye in the socket anymore. I kind of knew that. She's a hairless, and has always had bad trouble with her eyes. The eye infection has flared up again, probably due to the stress of the operation, and I'm concerned that it's at a bad level for her. She's going in to the vet again either tomorrow or this weekend, to see what should be done about that. She needs to be eating, and she's not.
Right now both Helen and Sprite are in sort of 'racing corsets' made of medical tape and bandages, so they don't hurt their incisions.
Helen is only the third rat I got as a real, honest-to-goodness baby; first were Sweetie and Small, then Merlyn and Arthur were maybe a year or fourteen months or so when I got them, Caramel was little but not a baby, and then my little Hellion of Troy. Rats really do go from little balls of energy to very very sweet as they age; it's a progression that mingles sadness and joy, like anything in life but more poignant because you know what's coming. Each rat has a distinct personality that doesn't come again, just chantges flavour with age. To be random for a moment:
in every wood, in every spring
there is a different green
Eva is looking after both the little ones right now, because there's a potential mold problem in my house still, and with their weakened systems we don't want to subject them to extra stuff. Need to bug the landlord again about that.
Less crazy than I have been; I slept in this morning, had a fascinating dream where Bob worked at the Pan Pacific, bellman uniform and all, and turned into a craggy-nosed blond girl halfway through without unduly disturbing anything. It was nice. Maybe it's just that I'm not bleeding anymore.
The moon was very clear tonight, and very full.
I go to bed now peacefully. I'm glad that lately, even when my days have been distressing or chaotic, my bed is always serene.
Both Sprite and Helen went in for lump removals, Sprite is at this point doing very very well, Helen is drinking kitten formula but not eating on her own yet. The vet checked her eye out, I've been keeping antibiotic drops in it, and said there was basically no eye in the socket anymore. I kind of knew that. She's a hairless, and has always had bad trouble with her eyes. The eye infection has flared up again, probably due to the stress of the operation, and I'm concerned that it's at a bad level for her. She's going in to the vet again either tomorrow or this weekend, to see what should be done about that. She needs to be eating, and she's not.
Right now both Helen and Sprite are in sort of 'racing corsets' made of medical tape and bandages, so they don't hurt their incisions.
Helen is only the third rat I got as a real, honest-to-goodness baby; first were Sweetie and Small, then Merlyn and Arthur were maybe a year or fourteen months or so when I got them, Caramel was little but not a baby, and then my little Hellion of Troy. Rats really do go from little balls of energy to very very sweet as they age; it's a progression that mingles sadness and joy, like anything in life but more poignant because you know what's coming. Each rat has a distinct personality that doesn't come again, just chantges flavour with age. To be random for a moment:
there is a different green
Eva is looking after both the little ones right now, because there's a potential mold problem in my house still, and with their weakened systems we don't want to subject them to extra stuff. Need to bug the landlord again about that.
Less crazy than I have been; I slept in this morning, had a fascinating dream where Bob worked at the Pan Pacific, bellman uniform and all, and turned into a craggy-nosed blond girl halfway through without unduly disturbing anything. It was nice. Maybe it's just that I'm not bleeding anymore.
The moon was very clear tonight, and very full.
I go to bed now peacefully. I'm glad that lately, even when my days have been distressing or chaotic, my bed is always serene.
