The Varying Health of The Rooftops Family

The Varying Health of the Rooftops Family


Let's start with the really good news: Steve and I had our twenty week baby scan on Wednesday and everything is perfect.

In Aberdeen, there's no option to find out the sex at the twenty week ultrasound - it is very clearly an anomaly scan done for medical screening purposes. So I was a little bit nervous. But mostly not. Mostly, I felt like we had had our scare for this pregnancy. I could (can) feel the baby moving; I was pretty sure all was well.

And it is.

And, wow, I thought the scans were sharp and detailed last time around (November 2014) but the machines have had an upgrade since then - we could see everything. Everything except the carefully dodged sex parts, that is!

It was a bit weird, seeing the image squidge through our child as though the foetus is no more substantial than jelly, but incredible to see each chamber of the beating heart lit up blue and orange as the blood pulsed through it.

So: all is well with the baby, as far as the experts can tell.


And all is well with me, other than having had my whooping cough jab on Tuesday. It wasn't as bad as last time - just a bit achy and itchy.


She seems to be having another growth spurt which means she's a bit tired and liable to bump into things (presumably because her limbs aren't the length she expects them to be). She dragged her tired, overly-far-away heels all the way to and from the dentist on Thursday (normally a ten minute walk; it took her thirty) but didn't even get a sticker for her efforts; they were running so far behind they asked us to reschedule her appointment. Which we did. For a day when Steve's off work and can do all the cajoling instead.


On to the bad news: Gizmo had another emergency vet run on Sunday morning. The same thing as the last two times.

He has seemed so happy and healthy recently - he's been playful, sociable and even seems quite fond of Matilda at long, long last.

But, at four o'clock on Sunday morning, I was woken by him scrabbling to get out of the bathroom because he couldn't jump over the baby gate (we have a baby gate on the bathroom so the cats can use the litter tray without anybody hugging them). I spent the next three hours watching him trudge back and forth to the bathroom, tail between his legs, trying and failing to empty his system; pacing around the flat, clawing at random patches of floor because he was so uncomfortable; and occasionally cuddling up against me for strokes. As soon as I thought our animal-loving neighbour might be up, Steve called the vet and I called next door to ask for a lift. Steve took him in as I would struggle to carry his box right now.

The vet manually cleared his system and sent him off with another week's worth of eye-wateringly expensive medication. But he prepared Steve for the worst - most cats who start having these problems are gone within two years, he said.

Gizmo's first bout was a year and a half ago.

So, there are practical concerns: how on earth to do vet runs with no car, a toddler and a huge bump/newborn; how on earth to pay for treatment with no remaining savings.

But, mostly, there's fear of him suffering and dread of having to make that final decision... and not knowing whether that will be next week or several years from now.

But today he is happy. So today, we are good.


Polly seems well and (unusually) free from anxiety. She has been very focused on finding new hiding places recently, though; I wonder if it might be an age thing? This does concern me a little.


Evidence of cat-related stress, mostly in the form of sighing.

How are things with you?

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