serinde: ("What fresh hell?")
[personal profile] serinde
After 2.5 hours kicking around the animal hospital (this, with travel time, killing the notion of me getting into work for the afternoon[1]), we learn...nothing. Or, well, some diagnostic exclusions. The ultrasound does not show anything funky going on. They've taken blood, and a urine sample (which surprised me, as usually Mage waits to pee until he's back in the carrier, but I'm not complaining), and I should call tomorrow afternoon for the results.

They wanted to take an X-ray, too, which would have been another medical half-hour (i.e., 55 minutes), but I figured if I left then I could at least get some correspondence and documentation done, and not make a complete waste of the day. And it didn't seem, by the description, to be anticipated half as useful as biochemical reports are like to be.

Also: When sitting for several hours in a freezing cold waiting room fretting about your cat, the wrong reading material is the story of Shackleton's Antarctic expedition. Seriously.

[1] If I'd the brains God gave a kumquat, I would have gone dressed for work, dropped Mage off at the house, and taken the train in from Fair Lawn, or thus I was reproaching myself during the long cold wait; but it looks like, due to infelicitous scheduling, I would've just missed the last useful train from there anyways.

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