A Million Prayers Answered

So Friday morning, I was going about my buisness, feeling better, wondering if I would be able to get out on Monday. As early mornings are known for in the hospital, people were bustling in and out of my room... why hospitals think simulating Grand Central Station at 7 am is good for anyone's health is beyond me. Anyway, my nurse casually mentions that they are discontinuing my Vancomycin, one of the most powerful IV antibiotics, and one of the very few that have any efficacy against MRSA. MRSA... the big bad boogeyman bug that had the media all in a tissy in the last year has colonized in my lungs for the last few years. While it did not cause a great change in my health, it was a complication that was unwanted all the same. Once MRSA colonizes, it is very difficult to get rid of. So when it was mentioned they were pulling my vanco, my mind started reeling... could it be possible? Could MRSA not have shown up in my cultures? I eagerly awaited the med team arrival that morning. Sure enough, my cultures came back, MRSA free... and I gave an amazing sputum sample. While I am not saying that it is gone until I have a few more cultures under my belt... I feel like great prayers have been answered. I never prayed for my CF to be gone, as I would never feel okay if I was the only one cured, taking this one small burden from me was something that I hoped for in my darkest times.

With the news of my MRSA being gone, and my general energy level increasing by the hour, my cough no longer roaring, and mucus no longer coming up with every hack of my warn lungs, they released me today to continue my IV's at home. My shortest stay ever... one where I did not have the constant worry of my weight, where I did not struggle to heal. I know not every visit will be like this, but a bright spot is something to illuminate so many other times.

Tonight, when I got home, I immediatly looked to connect with my husband, roomies, and kitties. I was told that my Hazard had not been seen since Friday morning, not unheard of him to be gone so long, but not normal either. I called him a few times, then decided to wait until night when he normally comes home. On our way out to dinner, only a quarter mile from the house, I saw a sickening site. The body of a pure black cat was laying on the side of the road. My heart rate quickened, but I did not feel an instant pit in my stomach... hope despite the evidence. Matt and I pulled over to take a closer look. The cat was in bad condition, you could tell they were gone instantly. I looked for Hazard's distinctive qualities... and found some on this cat. Long black hair and no color patches... but I also did not see his long hair sticking out between the pads of the paws and the ears did not seem to be the same as my baby's. Matt and I could not definitively tell if it was Hazard, but I let the cat know whomever he was he was a good kitty. I was sad, but okay if it was my Hazard. I knew that my boy could still be alive, but wouldn't believe it until I saw him. After dinner we came home, and I called him again... no answer. Thirty minutes later, Tyrone opened the door to talk to his cat, and my big black fuzzy boy came bounding into the house. He meowed when he saw me and immediately nuzzled his mom, who'd he missed for the last few days. I hugged him tight, and he couldn't understand why we were all fussing over him, but tonight I am so happy to have my boy back.

So tonight... my prayers are full of thanks... and I thank all of you for the ones you have sent my ways!

Hazard

I know I have not introduced many aspects of my daily life... so here is the first..

This is my baby boy Hazard.




Right before Matt and I were married, we decided that we wanted a kitty for me. He already had Lil' One, who was devoted to him for life, and while she accepted my existence, she definitely was not a kitty I could call my own.



After much difficulty with the Willamette Humane Society in Salem, we decided to go to the Oregon Humane Society up in Portland, to see what they had. We already decided we probably wanted a kitten. While we are fine adopting older kitties, we wanted someone small to make the adjustment on Lil' One better. We showed up to the very busy Humane Society, as there was a mass adoption of Labradoodles going on. All of their kittens were spoken for, except for one black baby. We asked to visit with him and were escorted to a private viewing room. Soon they brought the kitten to the room, placed him down, and left, giving us a chance to interact with him. However, the little fur ball was not interested in us at all. He was not scared of us, but would not even feign interest in the toys that we dangled, did not want to be petted. No, instead this kitty needed to check out the room. He sniffed every surface, wiggled into all the corners, and got the lay of the room. As soon as he did, he switched into an entirely different kitty. He became playful, loving, and like any other friendly kitten. This personality quirk of fully exploring his surroundings when changed became the first of his many endearing traits.



That very first night, he taught us his name. We were driving him own, on a rain drenched, wind swept, dark night that signals the start of the stormy season in Oregon every late fall. The freeway was covered in water, visibility was bad, and the wind shifted the car like it was a small child's sailboat. Hazard was restless in the car, again showing his need to explore every surface inch of his new surroundings. He climbed out of my reach in the passenger seat, up Matt, the driver's shoulder, and out on his head. Two paws onto Matt's hat bill, chaos broke lose. Suddenly, in slow motion, I watched as the hat fell to cover Matt's face, his glasses tumble into his lap, quickly followed by a black furry streak. I grabbed the wheel with one hand, picked up the cat, popped the hat off of Matt's face, then handed him his glasses with a flair and coordination that I can only exhibit in situations where my livelihood is on the line.



After we were safely piloted by a driver who not only no longer had a hat across his face, but could also see with the aid of his glasses, I turned my attention to the small black cat. Exactly what type of cat would try to kill the people who just saved him? He didn't even let us get home before he tried to kill us! You would think that cats would know that part of being adopted was not to kill the adoptive parents... shouldn't they have a class or something? I held his face firmly in my hands and looked deep into his eyes.....

"Hey little guy, you can't be a road hazard".

As soon as the word hazard left my lips, the cat lunged forward towards my face, head butting me with a force of a big bear hug. I pulled him back and looked at him again...

"Hazard?"

He responded with another emphatic head butt, and another, and another. We had found his name... and another of his endearing qualities. The number of times that head has butted against mine are numerous. Soon we found that he communicated by varying his meows, able to express exactly what he thought about any situation. Him running in one morning, meowing a blue streak, telling me that Matt dared to feed them pate food was probably one of the funniest moments of my life.



My sweet, fuzzy, wild Hazard. There is no question in my mind how much he loves me... even if he did try to kill me!