Cat Tales 49
Come on in, darlin’. The door’s unlocked,” said Miss Ellie.
I was on a scheduled medical visit to check on the elderly woman. Miss Ellie, eighty -five years old, lived alone in a small, one-bedroom house with her two cats, Bogie and Bacall.
As I entered the small living room, a blast of hot dry air from the black wood -burning stove hit me. Miss Ellie was sitting in her worn, green- plaid recliner, practically on top of the hot stove. The petite woman, dressed in a blue flower-print cotton dress and two frayed dark green wool sweaters to keep her wa rm, smiled brightly as I entered her home. Her full head of snow-white hair looke d like it had gotten away from he r and caught up in a wind tunnel. Even though he r legs were elevated, I could readily see they were ede matous.
“How are you feeling, Miss Ellie?” I asked as I checked her blood pressure, which was dangerously high at 190/100. “Oh, I’m doin’ just fine. It’s just me and my babies, ya know,” she said. “Winter’s upon us, though, so I keep myself warm in front of my stove. Been sitting up all night, ’cause it just seems to get colder and colder."
"Miss Ellie, I see your legs are swollen. I need to take off your hose so I can see how puffy they are,” I informed he r. “All right, you just do what you nee d to,” she said.
When I tried to re move the dark brown hose from he r legs, I was shocked to find the y were stuck to he r skin like paper on glue. I knew from the dried drainage stains on the stockings and the foul odor coming from the area that her legs were badly infected. I gently started to re move the stockings, but stopped abruptly when I saw that the skin was peeling away with the nylons. I realized then that Miss Ellie had suffered at least second-degree burns on her legs and feet from sitting too close to the stove. With a history of poor circulation, she had little feeling in either leg and hadn’t felt the heat from the stove burning he r tissues. I knew she needed to be hospitalized immediately to treat the burns, infection, and high blood pressure if she were to survive the winte r.
“Miss Ellie, I’ve got to get you to the hospital today. Your blood pressure is way up, and I think you have infected burns on your legs."
"Oh no, I can’t do that!” she cried. “Who will take care of my babies? They’re all I have in this world. I’d die without them. Please, please help me.” Tears streamed down he r sallow cheeks.
The two cats sitting on the arm of Miss Ellie’s chair stared at me intently with thei r green eyes. Bogie was solid black, and his female counterpart, Bacall, was rust colored.
I ponde red a solution for the unusual situation I was confronted with. Torn between honoring her wishes and leaving the cats at home to be dealt with later, I followed my conscious.
“Tell you what I can do,” I said. “I’ll call the ambulance, and we’ll take the kitties with us. After I get you settled into the hospital, I’ll contact a vet who can board them until you are well enough to come home.” Miss Ellie burst into sobs of relief. While we wa ited for the ambulance to arrive, I emptied the contents from my black leather nurse’s bag and stuffed the wailing cats inside. That quieted Miss Ellie’s tears, but not the screeching cats now zipped into my bag.
The ambulance arrived shortly, and as we l oaded Miss Ellie into the back, she held out her thin arms and called out, “My babies, my babies."
"I’ve got them, Miss Ellie, they’re coming with us,” I assured her.
I slid into the back of the ambulance with my hidden cargo. The medics didn’t see the cats, but I’m sure they wonde red what was making all the ruckus inside my nurse’s bag. The ambulance left Miss Ellie’s home with the lights blinking and the siren wailing.
The cats must have thought they we re on their way to kitty heaven, because their shrieks soon matche d the screaming siren. To calm my patient and my own jangled nerves, I unzippe d the bag, and out jumpe d the cats. They immediately took refuge on Miss Ellie’s chest, where they purred contently. That is the scene that greeted the surprised parame dics when they ope ned the back door of the ambulance to unload Miss Ellie and wheel her into the hospital. “Don’t ask,” I said calmly. The wide-eyed looks on the para medic’s faces were nothing compared to the shocked expressions on the physicians’ and nurses’ faces in the emergency room. I moved along with the stretcher, holding onto the cats to keep the m from jumping ship, as they wheeled Miss Ellie into the trauma room. The attending doctor looked at me as though I would make a good candidate for the loony bin. I smiled. “Family,” I said nodding to the two felines, whose claws were now imbedded in my bl ue sweater.
Miss Ellie was admitted for treatme nt. The cats were boarde d for free by a kind local vet.
Miss Ellie had a difficult time adjusting to the hospital and to being separated from he r babies. She had suffered second-degree burns ove r 75 percent of her legs and feet, which required massive amounts of antibiotics, meticulous care of the burned areas, and freque nt physical therapy to get her limbs functional again. It was a slow and difficult healing process, and she wasn’t responding as well as she should have. To make matte rs worse, she refused to eat and rested fitfully.
I realized that Miss Ellie was ailing not only from physical trauma but al so from emotional distress. She was grieving for her babies. So I made a proposal to her. “If you’ll eat and do your exercises, I’ll bring your babies in for a visit.” She readily agreed to the deal.
How I woul d accomplish that task, I had no idea. I figured I could conceal the cats in my black leather nurse’s bag again, but I hadn’t thought about how I would make my way through the hospital corridors without the squirming, squealing stowaways being detected. Yet, somehow, I managed to sneak the cats into the hospital for a few visits. The tricky part was the elevator ride to and from he r private room. As expected, the cats would bec ome quite vocal. When they starte d me owing loudly, I’d feign a deep, openmouthed yawn, in hopes the people on the elevator would think the noise was coming from me. I didn’t have a convincing meow.
Miss Ellie’s special hospital visitors had exactly the effect I’d hoped for. Her spirits lifted, she started eating and doing her physical therapy, and he r body began to heal. When her burns healed and her blood pressure stabilized, she was allowed to return home with her small creatures. I had a safety cage built around the stove so she couldn’t get close enough to cause additional burns. I continued to visit her and monitor he r progress, and she continue d to live happily with he r babies for several years.
The kitty’s visits with their mama supporte d my belief that someti mes it takes more than me dicine to heal the body and soul.