Today's plan: to remove two stents and a drain. My plea: sedation. This agreed by any of the staff who have had anything to do with The Little Princess over the past few days, queried by those who have only seen her unconscious, but fully endorsed thankfully by the dr who had the thankless task of trying to cannulate her on Sunday.
And so, Midazolam. And a very quickly loopy and ultra chilled LP, who suffered having stents (which would later turn out to have been stitched into place) pulled out; coped with one snapping and needing to be fished for with a sharp and poky knife, and managed to have a drain removed with nary a "Stinky!" being shouted. They couldn't get it out; we'll have to go back at some point in the next six months and have it properly fished for.
But huge sighs of relief from all on duty as tLP has all day being asking for people to come in and see her, wanting to hold hands and paint and generally been sweetly sleepily loopy. She is now asleep and snoring (and oddly, despite not being hooked up to her nippy, has substantially better sats than she had last night with it).
We did push it a little by attempting to shampoo a week's worth of blood and bile out of her hair, and I think it's safe to say she objected to that quite a lot despite the sedation, but even so the fighting was less than it is at home. I wonder if we could have a prescription for every hair wash? Probably not, but I think I shall be pushing for it for blood tests and other big time stresses for her in future.
So, what could have been the worst day so far definitely transformed into the most peaceful. And excellent news from Helen House who have sorted a seamless transition from respite to hospice for Mog on Sunday; our last worry this week out of the way.
Cats appear to be surviving nicely without us although I think Sarah needs some seriously good chocolate for clearing up after an unfortunate cat trapped in a bedroom incident!
Now if we could just get this bowel working again, then we could start looking at home