Something Fishy

I covered a traumatic cat trip to the vets in an earlier blog and I regret to say that time hasn’t soothed the feline’s reaction to travel – they loathe it.  Loudly.

Current circumstances dictate weekly short trips by car for them and honestly, you’d think they were being racked or squeezed and spiked in a medieval iron maiden.  Seriously, these cats have taken complaints to a whole new (voiciferous) level.

Him Outdoors, always so cavalier about managing these things ( which could have something to do with the fact that he never has to!) volunteered to take over their temporary homing.  Involving a four hour car journey for them.

Taking pity on him (actually, in a preservation move to save their lives, cos if they start their chorus with him it’s likely they’ll be abandoned on the side of the road) I trundle off to the vet (sans cats) to discuss sedation and best tactics for a less traumatic journey.  The holistic vet suggests a more natural approach to deliver calm and reduce angst – a salmon flavoured gel pumped onto their food or rubbed on the back of their paws.  At a price equal to a long distance bus ticket, of course, but any port in a storm.

You would think that a cuddle, tickle and paw rub, delivering salmon flavoured goop onto their limbs would delight and please them.  Not so.  Speckle learned to disappear the minute the pump appeared while podgy Anushka, less nimble on her feet, developed an amazing knack for drawing her paws into her body with an iron grip.  Still, enough was wiped onto their fur (and my lap) to hopefully make a difference and they did seem to collapse into a lazy heap and doze more deeply afterwards. 

So much for the practice runs, now for the real deal.  Pump, wipe, drop into the cat carriers.  All good so far, they stare dopily through the mesh.  Place in car, close door and start engine.

“Yooooooowwwwwllll” came from the back seat.  “Meeeeeeeeeooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwww” yodelled the carrier next to me.  In a series of unearthly howls we travelled two kilometres.  Once released into their new lodgings, they crawled under the bed and snoozed the day away, exhausted.

Result?  Yes, I’d say so.  If I want the cats to sleep deeply on the couch, this is the remedy.  If the goal is transporting them, the only solution appears to be a brick to the back of the head.

   

Statute of Limitations

Faced with a medical history form to complete, inevitably I chew the end of my pen in some state of perplexion. (Yup, another word invented for my personal lexicon).

The questions are directed towards 'yes or no' responses, and many of them seem rather obsolete.  For instance 'Have you ever had any major surgery / operations?' Yes. But a removed gall bladder (33 years ago) and two caesarean sections (26 and 22 years ago respectively) hardly seem critically relevant today. Should the question not read 'Have you ever reacted badly to a general anesthetic?' or 'Have you had an organ removed?' - isn't that the meat of what they really want to know?

Where do long cleared childhood conditions fit in?  My temporal lobe epilepsy was declared treated 40 years ago after a series of normal EEG's.  So how do I answer the question 'Have you ever suffered from Epilepsy or any similar brain disorder?' Couldn't they put a time limit on that, say, 15 years, and rephrase that question 'Have you suffered any incidence of Epilepsy or similar brain disorder in the past 15 years?' 

It's not as though the forms are blessed with oodles of space for awkward handwritten explanations - 'yes I did but it was cured 40 years ago with no further sign of it since.'

Yet, drilled by some Puritanical need to come clean and confess, I religiously scrawl cramped notes with arrows directing the reader from the question to the answer.  Only to have the Dr / Technician glance at the form, ask when the condition ceased, then proceed to ignore the information.

Today, medicated conditions such as ADD and ADHD are all too commonly diagnosed and treated.  With time, many youngsters learn to manage the condition without drugs and continue to lead fully functional lives.  Until one day, needing a medical certificate for the opportunity of a lifetime, they are faced with 'Have you ever been treated for a brain disorder?' and minutes before a blood pressure test they overflow with anxiety and adrenaline.  'Do I answer Yes because I was on Ritalin for a while decades ago?'  A particular conundrum as in this case, Iron Man honesty combined with the reality that a false answer will mean eviction from the project, while admitting to a 'brain disorder' could kibosh taking part at all.

Yup, I realise that a) space is limited and b) the medics need to get the info as fast as possible, there isn't time to read essays, but it seems to me that better phrased questions could elicit monosyllabic answers in a more meaningful, useful way.  

An Unselfish Love

Living life through my kids?  Phah!  They stole my dreams. Long before Number 1 son was wearing long pants, I wanted a spoil vacation at Phinda Private Game Reserve. That's clearly a long term goal, because 20 odd years later I'm still waiting to enter Phinda's portal whereas he's lived there for weeks at a time. 

Being offered his first real flying job was cause for celebration, although his being based at Phinda was kinda freaky. And sending photographs and anecdotes about lionesses and cubs in the hangar and elephants in his garden was downright cruel.

Think about it in terms of someone who wags her tail at the slightest prospect of boarding a plane. That is what he does, EVERY day.  Gaborone, Maun, Victoria Falls, Antananarivo, Pemba, Harare, Windhoek, Vilanculos - Number 1's daily coffee stops.

                          

Number 2 son morphed into a microbiology scientist. Something of a surprise because I had him pegged more hands on with rocks or lizards, even dinosaurs. Yes, he battled to shrug off toddler fascination with feathers, interesting stones, Jurassic Park, reptiles of all shapes and sizes but never in a Mesozoic Era did I visualise him glued to a microscope, pouring over spores, bacteria and horrid little germy things.

How is it possible that he is almost en-route to the Antarctic on a scientific expedition? Well, two expeditions actually.

AND he goes via Chile for the first one so he can add South American stamps to his passport, which is a continent his mater has never stepped foot upon. 

The real miracle is, though, that I'm overwhelmed and completely delighted for both of them. Truth be told, I suspect I'm more excited about their travels and careers than they are. They are both so good at what they do and so totally in their natural space that they don't see how remarkable they and their lives are.  

Every now and then (OK, probably three times a week. At least) I almost pinch myself to make sure this is all real.  There are definitely not 50 shades of envy but I own up to 50 shades of thrill and happiness.  It's so exciting to watch my sons visit the places I've always wanted to but never will.  I lap up the photographs and stories and am on tenterhooks for the Antarctic chapter.

In a dog-eat-dog world where jealousy rules and whatever your colleague and neighbour has or does highlights what you don't, it's rather refreshing to be genuinely excited and delighted for something someone else has and does. 

Especially when it makes the ordinary look extraordinarily mundane, and involves my dreams. 

Parenthood continues to teach important life lessons long after our chicks have fledged.