The Tarnished, Twisted, Scarred Non-Lucky Star Attached to My Ass

This day almost rivals January 6th in its awfulness.  Not quite though because no one is dead (or at least no one I am aware of personally).  Yesterday, when the vet finally called us, we were given the news I had been dreading: ET needed surgery.  His x-rays show two bladder stones and a very blocked colon.  See for yourself:

 (The two spheres in the middle are the bladder stones that are obviously way to big for him to shoot out his cloaca--they are literally as hard as rocks so they can't smoosh down in any way on their way out like say a baby would.  The bright C-shaped tube on the left is his impacted colon, which obviously opens right up to the bladder stone making it so no poop would ever be able to get out of there.  This is how serious it is!)

They were supposed to call us back with an estimate on how much that surgery would be.  They did not call us back last night.  I spent the night dreaming of a surgery that cost me my year's salary.  This morning I got up depressed and lethargic.  Yesterday was beyond boring at work, and I could not imagine sitting there with nothing to do for another day while thinking the whole time about my poor tortoise friend.  I sat.  I waited.  I read all my Google Reader subscriptions.  I tried to read a James Tiptree, Jr. story, but felt a nap would be better.  The phone finally rang close to 2pm.

Seems Austin does not have a tortoise surgeon.  That is some serious bullshit.  We were first given the choice to go to A&M or to Houston.  A&M actually offered a serious discount for their "exotic" pet surgeries.  Not only that, it is in a small town and well, it isn't HOUSTON.  It's an important distinction.  We were told to be at the vet's office (very far south of us) within 45 minutes.  The vet was going to call A&M to let them know that we'd be there by 5pm or so.  I take the quickest shower, hitting the stinky parts, quick wash to the hair, then ran around dripping and naked through the house trying to gather what I thought we would  need for an impromptu road trip.  Right when we were ready to go, the vet called to say that A&M was booked and can't do it.  Thus, Houston.  Gah.  Way more money, and Houston.

We get to the vet and enjoyed a tan-colored dachshund and a very large black cat.  We can at least appreciate other pets while we are peeing ourselves with stress and worry.  We get in to a room that had the most comfy chairs I've ever sat in at a vet--this must be the room they euthanize the animals.  I didn't say that there.  The vet comes running in saying, "False alarm, guys."  Seems the doctor in Houston hadn't looked at the clock, and didn't realize she was agreeing to check ET in at night.  Gah.  This was way more frustrating than just driving through rush-hour traffic out of Austin and in to Houston.  If you have not been to Houston, you may not realize the horror.  The thing is, I can't really miss two days at work and I have tutoring tomorrow.  It was way too late to find a substitute.

The Boy to the rescue.  He is going to take ET to Houston all by  himself tomorrow morning, which means he has to cancel some of his plans.  However, because his huge choral spring concert is happening next weekend, it means I will have to return the favor and drive to Houston by myself when ET is discharged from hospital.  Double gah.  I talked with the doctor in Houston, and she said that ET would have to do extraordinarily well after surgery to be picked up on Saturday.  So let's just go ahead and assume I will have to leave Monday after I do payroll.  Why? BECAUSE I OBVIOUSLY DO NOT HAVE A FUCKING SHINY STAR ATTACHED TO MY ASS.  My bad luck is rubbing off on The Boy now--he used to have quite the shiny star attached to his ass.  Ha, not anymore.  I have some serious tainting, corroding properties.

If you are interested on how this surgery works, the Long Beach Island Hospital has a very detailed site with pictures and a Quicktime video.  It is extremely informative, and it made me feel better about the surgery overall--especially how the shell is repaired after they cut in to it.  The thing to remember is that a tortoise's shell is living tissue--it hurts and bleeds.  It will take a long time to heal and for the muscles to reattach to it on the inside.  It looks like there is a very good survival rate after the surgery as long as he doesn't get an infection.  Gulp.

It's hot and I'm tired.  I had the last Nutty Bar in the freezer to make me feel better.  The Boy went to record to clear his mind a bit, which I am happy he has that outlet since I am totally beating myself up about having him go alone tomorrow when he is so busy preparing for some serious choral work.  Argh.