Not lack of sewing, just silence.
Lily the cat seems to have lost her voice. Normally she has a very loud and demanding meow, particularly when she's standing outside the workroom.
Yesterday, low scratchy meow. Today, nada.
This happened before - about a year and a half ago, when she had the expensive butt surgery, her voice changed. It changed back, but I don't remember when.
One of the many negatives about the internet is if you go looking for something, you're sure to find it; searching "cat voice change" gives you lovely frightening ideas like laryngeal tumors and renal failure.
So I took her to the University of Penn's vet emergency room last night around 7:00 p.m. My vet didn't have hours until Monday and Ididn't know if I could get her an appointment, so even though it might just be something minor, I wanted to get her checked out. Minor has a way of turning major very quickly, and animals rarely show when they're in pain.
When we walked in, the waiting room was overflowing. A tech comes out, asks what's wrong, I give her the symptoms - also licking her lips, a little lethargic, maybe a little weight loss, just not acting like herself - and the tech says they'll probably run some blood work to see what's up.
8:00. 9:00. 10:00. Another tech comes out. "Lily?" she asks. I raise my hand. She's come to take a full history, including all about the surgery in January 2009, even though she's got the chart in her hand - which she obviously hasn't read because she asked if Lily had sustained another animal bite. Two hospital visits, one surgery and several thousand dollars later, it was determined it was never a bite; she'd simply been picking at her own infection.
But whatever. She takes a new history, disappears.
11:00. Midnight. Doctor comes out, with tech in tow. "Lily's people?" We get up, go into an exam room with her. She goes over the history again.
Why did I think my cat was sick? I repeat the symptoms. So that's enough to make me think she's sick? Yes. She's lost her voice, she's licking her lips constantly, she seems a bit lighter than usual, she's not acting like herself and she hasn't slept with me in a few days. The last time she exhibited most of that behavior, she was nursing a $3K infection just left of her tail.
The upshot: her bloodwork is fine, her kidney function is completely normal, her temperature is good, she's a sweet cat and I'm apparently a competely hysterical paranoid mother. That'll be $175 please - and 6 hours of your life.
I'm still taking her to my vet tomorrow, because now she has no voice at all, and I know my cat better than an overworked doctor in a Saturday night emergency room who can't see a (hopefully) minor issue with Lily because she's got way worse problems to deal with.
Fingers, toes and paws crossed, everybody. Even though I complain about her constant yammering at me, it's too freaking quiet in the sewing room right now.