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I was awakened this morning by Stupid Junior Cat going "YOW! YOW! YOW!" with the regularity of an alarm clock behind my shoulder. I swore at him, swatted at him, finally accepted that I was awake at 7:30 am, and went to see what his problem was.
"The water dish! It is new and strange!"
"I changed the water dish at nine am yesterday. Idiot boy."
As I drove the hour's drive over to the hospital, I got a call from the pulmonologist asking permission to do a small procedure to suction Bear's bronchial tubes so that his right lung could inflate properly. I said yes, of course, and they were in the middle of the procedure when I showed up. The doctor came to talk with me, and he said that they had got quite a lot of mucus out, that it did not appear to be infected, and that he should be able to breathe much better now.
It was the nurses who were discussing the collapsed lung they'd reinflated, and at that point part of me really wanted to have a meltdown. I got that under control, since the problem, however serious it sounded, had been handled and the situation resolved.
He is running a bit of a fever, and they have started him on antibiotics, and an infectious disease specialist is coming over this afternoon sometime.
He's sick, but he's in the right place, and in good hands, and I am not quite ready to freak out just yet.