Okay! Back to our regularly scheduled programming, where curse words are allowed and no discounts are offered.
So Max. It's his kidneys. Not exactly a shock, but the...good? semi-good? not-horrifically-bad?...news is that his numbers currently point to only "moderate" kidney failure, meaning not any sort of imminent death sentence, and it's worth trying some diet and low-level interventions. We picked up some prescription low-protein food at the vet (and donated nearly all of the cans and kibble we had on hand to the vet's pet shelter charity pile), and will be injecting him with fluids about three times a week.
I was worried he'd reject the special food and we'd end up mixing it with something else, thus reducing the effects, but the minute I opened a can and smelled how totally freaking gross it is, I knew it wouldn't be a problem. Anything that smells like rotten fish and dog farts is Max's jam, and he's already devoured several full cans of it. He even let me mix in some fresh pumpkin for further de-constipating efforts, which he's never, ever done before. THAT'S how pungently disgusting this food is.
He's only had one fluid injection, and I know it's easy to see what you want to see, but I SWEAR he already seems...happier. A bit peppier and moving around like he's more comfortable. The shot wasn't his favorite thing and he certainly voiced his displeasure in his distinctive Siamese way ("GRRRRRR YOWWWWL WTF MAN?"), but once it was done he didn't really seem all that bothered. So. We'll stick with this plan for however long this plan seems to help, and I'm admittedly very sorry I didn't sack up and get his bloodwork re-done earlier. I was scared to know, I guess. Now we do, and it's a good thing.
(BROUGHT TO YOU FROM THE DEPARTMENT OF "NO DUH, AMY.")
Ceiba's medicine also seems to be helping her cough, although I cannot seem to administer it without singing the tune to "London Bridge Is Falling Down" but with the words "trach-eas are co-laps-sing, my fair Cei-ba!"
She is not amused. No one else in the house is amused. I am SUPER amused.
Speaking of getting to the bottom of medical mysteries, remember that weekend my kids barfed in All The Movie Theaters? At first I was amazed and a little self-congratulatory that the stomach bug didn't spread to anyone else in the house.
(Likewise we are officially out of the incubation period woods on the Epidemic Keratoconjuntivitis aka Zombie Pinkeye, so GO GO GADGET DECONTAMINATION POWERS.)
Yesterday I decided to tackle Ezra's literal hellhole of a bedroom, cleaning and decluttering from top to bottom, rearrange the furniture, etc. I came across this, hidden under his bed:
Dozens and dozens of candy bar wrappers, of the same leftover-Halloween variety we've had in a big bowl downstairs, which I'd mistakenly assumed the kids were more or less ignoring.
(And since everything else about this post is already completely gross, let me elaborate and explain that the wrappers were carefully hidden under a wadded mass of toilet paper that was...stained. With something. My best guess is chocolate-tinged spit-up BUT having landed on the wrong side of the "is that chocolate or poop?" FAR TOO MANY TIMES, I've learned some stains are just best left un-examined.)
When I questioned Ezra about them, he claimed total ignorance. Likewise Ike had zero knowledge of this gluttonous horde. Obvious lies were obvious, and with a bit more pressure they both turned Judas and placed the blame on each other, before FINALLY admitting that the Great Candy Glurge had been a joint effort, and yes, they'd swiped and eaten all that candy in one single night.
One single, gloriously epic night. A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away. The night before we saw Star Wars, to be exact. Right before we spent two days in a row stuffing them with basically nothing but pizza and movie theater popcorn because WE CAN BE FUN TOO, DAMMIT. Ezra's stomach cried uncle first, while I guess Ike held on a little longer (or else repeated a solo candy heist the next night).
Either way, it explains A LOT, including why the special candy treats I've been packing in their Friday lunches have been coming home unopened.
Hide yo candy, hide yo wives, I can't believe I let these two criminal masterminds stay home from school God I am such a sucker.