Hills n' Valleys

Where did June go? I swear it was just here. I'm sure everyone has felt this way at some point, and recently things got a bit crazy here. For one, my school semester was particularly challenging, secondly, I've been cast as Banquo in Macbeth and finally, there was some pet drama here in the form of Scuttle.

My last class of the semester was on Thursday and boy am I relieved it's over! Deep Tissue and Trigger Point Therapy, while useful as a modality for treating chronic muscle tension, is a bitch to cram into your brain in a few short months. The final exam had a written and practical portion, and let me tell you, being in a hot room (81 degrees F) with twelve other students - all of them really nervous - is no way to spend your morning. The exam was like this: while waiting your turn with the professor, you work on whatever muscles your partner asks for. When your turn comes around, you choose a slip of paper from a bag, on which is written one of potentially twenty-odd muscles that you had to study. I chose supraspinitus, a relatively easy one, because it is small, specific and has only two trigger points. As per the routine, I explained the location and attachments, the action, where the trigger points are, then the referral pattern for pain. After this, I was asked to demonstrate my technique for working the muscle and finally how to "set" it. I lost points because I blanked on the referral pattern, (it's down the radial side of the arm), but passed with a 93%. I was mostly just happy that it was over and done. When my partner switched places with me, he got vastus medialis and kinda froze. I felt bad for him, but the prof gave him a second chance. He scraped by with an 80%. (The pass/ fail mark is 75%). Even worse, when I got dressed again, my bra was wet from how much I'd sweat during my test. Yuck.

Banquo is an honourable character from the famed Scottish play, and yes, a man. I'm interested in how the director plans to address my approach to the role, which is to not address gender at all. My first rehearsal was supposed to be on Sunday, from noon till 6pm, but a handful of actors flaked out when they belatedly realized that it was Father's Day. This marks the first bump in what will be a very long road. The director and dramaturge, by the way, are planning an ELEVEN MONTH process of analysis and rehearsal. I'm still not sure why I agreed to this, except perhaps for a sort of morbid fascination. I'll keep you posted.

And then there was Scuttle. As some of you may have noted in previous posts, she's gotten skinny and unpredictable. It's been a very gradual change, and there was concern mixed with rationalization that it was a natural part of aging for our fourteen year old ice princess. About two months ago, she peed on our couch (the expensive one of course), which is totally out of character for her. Then she peed on the ottoman. One day after I'd spent hours with a rented steam cleaner on the furniture, she peed on the ottoman again. Then the other couch. Twice. Obviously, something was wrong.

Given my schedule and relative stress level, I decided to wait until classes finished to take her to the vet while Phillip and I both adapted to this upsetting new routine by keeping everything off-limits and/ or covered in plastic sheeting. We spent more money on cleaning products and kept a close eye on her. On the last day of classes, I took her to our vet and she was kept overnight for extensive tests after learning that she'd went from nine pounds to only six. That's a lot for a little cat. The vet was also concerned about a mass in her abdomen.

The dreaded phone call was to tell us that she was very dehydrated and constipated - which explained the mass in her belly, and that she might have a tumor. I authorized treatment and another test and we waited. When I was called to pick her up the next day, she was in rough shape from an enema and the resulting mess. They had washed her, but she messes in the cat carrier out of nervousness, so I had to wash her again at home. Nightmare!

Diagnosis: hyperthyroidism. The vet has given us pills and an appointment in three weeks to check her T4 hormone level (which was extremely high) and her kidneys. The drugs should stabilize her metabolism, so she'll stop eating so much but gain back some weight. There are potential side effects, of course, but the medication is common enough and inexpensive, so she may safely be able to take it for the rest of her life to manage the condition. Poor old lady. Hopefully, this will calm down her strange behaviour, but we're not taking chances. We'll be the youngest couple on the block to have plasticized our furniture like old biddies. Maybe I should buy a candy dish and peppermints to set out for guests too.

All in all, relief is the emotion of the day. Scuttle is recovering - though I think she got a bit of a strain in her hind legs from struggling against so much handling - and I'm embracing some free time to help Phillip with a bit of yard work and of course to write. I've stopped playing Warcraft since school got so busy and I'm disinclined to return to the time-wasting. I have regular clients wanting massage every week and two more classes to complete before I will be certified. I hope the excitement is done for the year, I've had about as much as I care for.