I have a nasty rash. The itchy and redness started during our most recent heatwave and it hasn't gone away. Not for weeks. Don't worry, I won't burden you with any more details than that. Today I finally broke down and made an appointment with the dermatologist – a week from Tuesday. I wasn't satisfied with that so I also tried my nurse practitioner, but she's booked even further out.
But that's not the point of this post. Roy Hobbs is.
In the middle of July he had his annual checkup. He got his vaccinations and was declared healthy ...
except. The vet noted some gingivitis and advised that he have a thorough teeth cleaning, which requires anesthetic. It's always a good idea to have bloodwork done before putting a cat under, so we scheduled that. Since he's lost a bit of weight – the vet tech praised Roy Hobbs' "beach bod" – it seemed a wise to take a closer look. Is he just reaping the benefit of a better diet and closer attention to his digestive tract, or is something wrong? So when we scheduled the bloodwork, I enthusiastically agreed to an urinalysis and abdominal ultrasound. I am thrilled to report he's 100% healthy and his dental work has been scheduled.
It occurs to me that if Roy Hobbs or Connie had an angry red rash, I wouldn't wait weeks before calling the vet, and I wouldn't wait even more longer for an appointment. I admit I'm not eager to see the dermatologist and am hoping against hope this itchy, scaly mess clears up before the appointment so I can cancel. Oh, I know that's unlikely. I'm just expressing where my head is.
Roy Hobbs – who has nothing especially wrong – will have had three vet appointments to my one doctor's appointment. I should be as nice to myself as I am to my critters.
Photo by Olga Kononenko on Unsplash
