Getting My Stitch Fixed

Hey interwebz, how’s it going?

This last year has been a difficult one…lots of struggles and changes. The biggest being that I was laid off from my job of thirteen years this fall. I’m only 31 and although I had several positions at the company over the years, it was the only company I had ever worked for. Though it is definitely a jarring change, it is a change that is long overdue and so I’m actually pretty pumped to see what the future will bring.

Aside from spending hours Netflixing Saved By The Bell (just kidding…sort of…), I’ve been sending out resumes. I don’t have a lot of experience looking for jobs or interviewing, so the whole process makes me very apprehensive.

I’m also nervous about my large wardrobe of clothes that are either inappropriate for work or simply don’t fit anymore.

(2 years of stress eating….really not good for the clothing situation. Two steps forward, one step back, eh?)

I realize that I HAVE  to do something about this so that when the calls start coming in for interviews, I’ll be ready.


I am completely incapable of dressing myself.

Seriously. If there are no stained tees or yoga pants involved, then I really just sort of freeze up and panic.

So I decided to jump on the bandwagon and give StitchFix a try.

What is Stitch Fix? I will try to give you a quick rundown:

1) Register with the website and fill out a style survey.

2) Schedule a “fix”, which can either be on a reoccurring monthly schedule or a one time only deal. Once you schedule a fix, your credit card will be charged a $20 styling fee.

3) A stylist goes over your survey and comes up with 5 items of clothing and/or accessories/jewelry, packs them up in a box with suggestions on how to wear them and sends them your way.

4) Once you receive your fix, simply try everything on, and return anything you don’t want in the prepaid priority mail envelope included with your order.

5) Check out online — You’ll be able to make comments about your items so that any future fixes will be more accurate. In addition, if you take all 5 of your items, you receive a 25% discount. Lastly, that $20 styling fee? If you keep anything in your fix, it will go towards the purchase (ex. You keep a $50 blouse, you will only be charged an additional $30 at checkout)

And that’s about it!

So I just got my first fix yesterday:


Cosie was pretty stoked about the whole thing. She figured she’d help me unpack….



Styling suggestions for the items I was sent.


Bensen 3/4 Ruched Sleeve Blazer

Heartbroken! I saw the awesome color on this blazer when I opened my box and I reached for it right away. The material is SO soft and I loved the look and style of this jacket. The problem, however, is that it was WAY too small. Even though it was no where near fitting, I tried it on a few times and kept wondering how long it would take for me to lose 25 pounds. Ha.

One of the problems with me and blazers is that I carry a lot of weight in my mid section…even when I was 40 pounds lighter I couldn’t find a blazer that fit right. Whoever can find me a cute blazer that actually fits gets a prize. For reals.

Verdict: Sent Back



Donelle V-Neck Button-Up Cardigan

Right out of the box, I noticed a problem. A hole! Bummer!

I knew I couldn’t keep the sweater, but I did try it on. It was way too form fitting for my chunky mid-section. It was a definite NO. That being said, the material felt nice. Don’t know what the hole says for the quality of the garment though.

Verdict: Sent Back


Mercer Houndstooth Print Henley Blouse

This blouse is a sheer material, but comes with a built-in cami underneath. The shirt fit, but it didn’t really do a lot for me. I sort of looked like a boxy rectangle. I did like the built-in cami though, as it helped smooth out my lumpy bits. I actually spent some time debating this item. Though I didn’t look great in it, it was something that is work appropriate and I really don’t have a lot of items that fit that bill right now. Maybe if it had been cheaper, I’d have kept it.

Verdict: Sent Back


Thisbe Colorblocked Open Draped Cardigan

This item, was a winner. The material is lovely. It also is fairly flattering on me and very comfortable. I almost skipped out on it though, as I do have another open draped cardigan, which is also gray. This one, however, fits me so much better, so I pulled the trigger.

Verdict: Kept!


Just Black Connely Skinny Jean

I also received a pair of black skinny jeans, which I didn’t take a picture of.

They were the most puzzling item for me out of the entire fix. Why? Because Alexa doesn’t do skinny jeans. Seriously, I don’t own ANY skinny jeans. I have a lot of weight in my thighs and my calves are huge. Skinny jeans have always just seemed like a big mistake.

But I gave ’em a go anyway.

I was actually pleasantly surprised….I could get them on! They were too long, so I had to cuff them. Then I looked in the mirror: I couldn’t figure out if I looked stylish and trendy or like a sausage.

I tried several different tops/sweaters/etc with them and I almost kept them. I mean, I wear yoga pants outside, which are skin-tight, and I don’t care about that, right? The deciding factor was that they kept sliding down in the back, which would force me to yank them back up. Maybe I needed a size up? Too much junk in the trunk?

If they had been cheaper, I think I would have kept them despite the fact that the fit wasn’t perfect. But when you’re unemployed, $78 is just too much for something that you’re unsure of.

These pants did, however, convince me of the fact that maybe I should try to find a good pair of skinny jeans that actually fit.

Verdict: Sent Back

Overall, I had a really good experience with StitchFix. Despite only finding one piece that I really loved in the box, I think the stylist got close to what I’d like to try. I’m definitely going to try this again, as the fixes are supposed to just get better and better as they get more information about what works for you. I’ve also made a Pinterest board, which I think will be helpful. If any of you have an interest in giving StitchFix a whirl, please use my referral link HERE so I can get a $25 credit and not have to go to any future job interviews naked!

NOTE: I am not affiliated with StitchFix in any way, shape or manner. I paid for this fix myself and am blogging about it only because it seems like the only thing I’ve had worth blogging about in months.

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R.I.P. Steve Jobs

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma—which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown our your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.” — Steve Jobs, Commencement address, Stanford University, June 12, 2005


I am heart broken. Rest well Steve, we’ll all miss you.

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10 Years

10 Years ago today, I was 19 years old. My alarm went off and I rested in bed, trying to decide if I was going to go to my abnormal psychology class, or instead, play hooky, and go into the city to pick up my copy of “Love and Theft”, Bob Dylan’s new album. My mom kept knocking on my door, telling me to get up and look at the news…but I still didn’t get up right away. She said, “A plane has flown into the World Trade Center”, and all I yelled back through my closed bedroom door was, “On purpose?”

From my LiveJournal, 9/11/01:

“In general, I’m not terribly patriotic. I’m usually damning our government about all of the bad things they do to us, and more importantly to others in the world. Today is the first day in my entire life that I have felt patriotic.

I guess tragedy does that to people. I don’t know. For most of the day I kept saying we should blow the bastards up…take out a country…whatever. This is not Alexa-speak. That isn’t what I believe in. That isn’t what’s right. I do believe that no man who is the cause of thousands of lives lost should be allowed to keep his own, but is it our right to kill others? Does it make it better? Will it bring our loved ones back? No. It’s just more terror. More tragedy. More misery.”

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Alexa Ran Bay to Breakers 2011….three months ago!

And now may I present the race recap that I started writing nearly two months ago about the race that I ran over three months ago. Um. So sorry?

Although I have only been running for a year or so, there is one race that I have always wanted to participate in. As a native San Franciscan, I knew that I somehow would have to find a way to walk, run or crawl the course one day. Having been so un-athletic and insanely opposed to running for most of my life, I always assumed I’d probably be crawling. Luckily, it didn’t turn out that way at all, as I surprised my family and myself this past May by running the 100th running of the Bay to Breakers 12K footrace.

The Bay to Breakers race is exactly what the name implies. It is a race from the San Francisco Bay across the city to the Pacific Ocean (the breakers). It originated back in 1912 as a way to boost morale in the city, which was still trying to recover and rebuild after the 1906 earthquake. The race is 7.46 miles (12K) long, and the course definitely has some challenging aspects….namely, Hayes Street Hill.

Can’t visualize it? Check out this video:


Awesome, right? Right.

 While I have run several 5Ks in the last year, I was still pretty nervous about B2B. It was a  distance further than I had ever run before and I was wondering if I really had it in me. In the end, I decided to be like Nike and “just do it”. I mean, if there was ever a year to run the race, it was 2011. 2011 marked the 100th running of the race and to celebrate they decided that for the first time ever the race would have finisher’s medals to commemorate the event. What? Did someone say bling? I am so there!

Thus, bright and early on Sunday, May 15th, I hopped out of bed. And when I say early, I mean it. It was 4:30am!

I left the house at about 5:45 (later than I had planned) with a piece of peanut butter toast in hand and headed straight for Church Street station. A quick Muni Metro ride and walk brought me to the entrance of my corral, Corral C.

I think I forgot to mention that people dress up for this race, didn’t I?

I think I also forgot to mention that people often wear nothing to this race.

Don’t worry.

I have no pictures of that.

Just tweets.

Anyway, before I corralled myself, I decided to hit the port-o-potties. You see, at home before I left, I hadn’t had much luck…well..getting things moving. Though I had never had any gastric issues during a run, I’ve read enough to know that it is definitely a plus to get that out of the way before you get out on the road. I still didn’t have much luck, but I wasn’t too worried. I just went ahead and saddled up with my fellow Corral C’ers.

While we waited, we were entertained by the annual tortilla toss. For some reason, people apparently toss tortillas around at the start line. I have no idea why. I am a newbie. I got pelted a few times. It was strange…as were so many other things I saw during this race.


I only had my cell phone with me, so my tortilla photo attempts really didn’t turn out too well.

In between tortilla dodging, I signed up for FourSquare (so that I could check in at the start line, of course!) and spent time taking pictures of myself. Boredom leads to narcissism, you know…cough.

I still can’t believe I had the balls to wear a horizontally stripped tank top. Yikes. Thank goodness for race bibs to hide a gal’s spare tire…

Aside from tortillas a-flyin’, beach balls a-bouncin’ and my impromptu photo shoot, we also had giant speakers relaying what was happening up at the actual start line to keep us entertained. First they counted down the start of the female elites. Then the male elites. We were getting pumped. Then corral A went and the walking started. Then it stopped. And started. And stopped. And started. There were a lot of people to get up and through the start line before it was our turn. We got there eventually though.

The beginning of the race was really surreal for me. I couldn’t believe I was finally running a Bay to Breakers race. Normally I spend Bay to Breakers Sunday irritated as I try to figure out how to get to work for my Sunday opening shift with all of the road closures. It was nice to not have to fight the crowd, but for the first time actually be moving with them!

The first mile went well, as did the second. It was the first time I had ever been in a corraled race, and as it turned out, I really liked it. Normally when I run a DSE race or most other races, they are free for alls. I find that I run so hard at the beginning and I wear out pretty early. Being with people who signed up to run the same pace as I was running made the experience so much more comfortable and pleasurable.

At this point I was feeling good, but as I looked up ahead, I started to get nervous. There it was. THE hill. Hayes Street.

I thought about a strategy…run walking…what should I do? In the end, I just went for it. Run up the hills, walk across the intersections.

And I (along with about a gazillion other people) made it! And got Nesquik! w00t!

I nabbed the Nesquik as we rounded onto Divisidero and then started chugging it as we made another turn onto Fell. It tasted delicious, but turned out not to be all that awesome of an idea. At first it was fine, I ran happily along the Panhandle (my regular route!) and then we got down to Stanyan and entered Golden Gate Park. I was pretty excited to be just about halfway done with the race, but I also was feeling a bit queasy. My stomach was rumbling….in that way that runner’s stomach’s rumble.

Yeah. Ick.

I thought about trying to push through, as I really wanted to finish before 1:30. I slowed down to walk. I thought about stopping as I passed some port o potties. Then I thought about how I wish I had stopped instead of just thinking about it. Luckily, there were tons of opportunities to visit a port o potty this year. You see, due to a decent amount of participants winding up drunk along the way, people tend to start relieving themselves…well…everywhere. They wanted to fix that this year, so they upped the amount of port o potties and they started giving out wristbands to those who “eliminated responsibly”.

I decided at some point between miles 4 and 5 that it was time for me to become a “potty hero”.

Now as I mentioned, people who used the port o potties all got bracelets to celebrate their…achievements.

(I grabbed this off of the net somewhere back when I started this post…I don’t remember from where. So sorry if it’s your pic!)

I figured, well, hey, if I had to become a “real runner” right now and I’m going to lose my time, then at least I will get a bright neon green wristband.

Not so.

There were no potty hero monitors at my stop. I was. so. bummed.

Luckily, Zazzle was ready to remedy the problem:

Well, at least they SAID they were going to. I never got one. Just sayin….

Anyway, I became an unadorned hero and continued on my way, feeling MUCH better.

The rest of the race was a breeze. I might’ve been a little bit tired, but I was having fun and there was never a shortage of things to look at. Once you get to mile 6, there’s a happy downhill to the ocean, which is just how I like it. Plus, you get to see buffalo.

Ah. The ocean!

(Okay, I cheat…this picture is from way after the finish line…but who stops with only .4 miles left to go to take a picture?)

As we turned onto the Great Highway I got pumped. I could SEE the finish line. I tried to kick it up a notch, but I’ll be honest with you, I really didn’t have much left, so I settled for jogging over the finish line with a huge, goofy grin on my face. I had just ran the farthest I ever had run before.

And it was awesome.

My official time wound up being 1:35:22. I was sort of disappointed. I mean, I didn’t make it in under 90 minutes. It was the damn port o potty break that did it.  But then again, I wasn’t -that- upset. I mean, I just ran Bay to Breakers for the first time…what’s there to really be upset about?!

After the race I started off towards “Footstock”, which is a kind of post race party thing that people get all jazzed about. I didn’t have much interest, and wasn’t even going to go, but there was something missing….my bling! I had to head down there to get my medal, so you better believe I high tailed it over as fast as I could make my way through the crowd!

The bling actually turned out to be pretty sweet looking!

I hung around Footstock for a bit, and then I walked (seriously! 3 miles!) home. And ate a huge breakfast. And slept. And it was good.

Anyway, if you ever are able to run B2B, I highly recommend it. I don’t know if I’d do it every year, or anything, but it’s definitely an experience to be had.

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Cosie’s Triumph

As I was telling you all last week, Cosie has been diagnosed with feline hyperthyroidism.

Her new medicine regimen has proven to be fairly easy to adapt to. For the first week, she got her pill once a day, in the evening. Then, as per doctor’s orders, on Friday I increased her dosage to twice a day. Now Cosie is taking her pill at 7:30am and 7:30pm. Or as close to those times as possible.

Her overall health seems better, as I mentioned before. She is eating normally now and has energy to play and saunter around my apartment with her prior swagger. She also isn’t throwing up as much. I’m pretty jazzed about that fact, as for several years it’s been a problem. I always assumed it was your typical senior digestion problems, but the drastic cut back in occurrences lead me to believe that in recent times it may’ve been her thyroid problem. So all of that seems good.

Her condition does pose some challenges, however. For instance, in the past, when I’ve gone out of town for a couple of days, I’ve just had my sister or a friend stop by once to check in. Now I have to coordinate someone to give Cosie her medicine. Luckily, my sister has been missing her cat, Daniel, so she volunteered to actually stay at my place for two nights last week while I went to Reno for my birthday.

I was a little nervous leaving Cosie, as she has been sick so recently. Not to mention that the day before I left she developed the sniffles (which after 8 days, she still has…). My co-worker and I had already made our reservations though, so the trip needed to go on. Plus, my 29th birthday was coming up and gambling my guts out is my favorite way to celebrate.

(I guess I’m not supposed to admit that, am I? Oops…)

 I shouldn’t have worried about ‘ole Cosie though. She apparently is well enough to handle herself.

Remember this problem? Yeah. I haven’t forgotten about it either. Despite my meticulous lock up of all dry goods and my installation of sonic mouse “shoo-ing” devices, I still had the sneaking suspicion that the little guy was still around. I hadn’t seen any more mouse droppings, nor had I ever laid eyes on the creature itself, but on Sunday night, Cosie was stalking some unknown thing in the apartment, and she looked serious.

On Thursday morning afternoon, just before I got on the road to head back to the bay area, I received the following text from my sister:

“All is well with the kids again. Cosie pilled beautifully, and ate. Unfortunately, I have to break the news to you that you have a mouse, which I have seen. So has Cosie and Daniel…Daniel is curious….Cosie wants the mouse’s arse. She has been on patrol all night, running and chasing. So, be sure to check around just in case she catches it. Sorry. I saw the bugger in your closet area, you may want to go through there…on the up side, I think that there is just one…”

 Do you know what I said in response? It really wasn’t very eloquent, but expressed my feelings very accurately:


It totally killed the good mood I had been wrapped up in. All I could think about was how much I really didn’t want to see the mouse…dead or alive.

When I got back to my apartment, I didn’t even want to go in there. I felt so grossed out at just the THOUGHT of that mouse running around and the idea of the cats catching it made it twelve thousand times worse. For 1.5 days upon my return, Cosie and Daniel ran around the apartment, meowing strangely (battle calls?) and pouncing on everything they saw. I, however, was choosing to ignore the situation completely. I didn’t go through my closet and I just kept trying to pretend that none of this was happening.

My plan was working splendidly.

Until Saturday morning.

On Saturday morning I got up to feed the kitties, scoop out the litter box and then I was off to take a shower. I had work during the morning shift, so I needed to get a move on. Just after getting out of the shower, I passed through my closet (I have a walk-through closet…you walk through it to get from the bathroom to the living area of the studio) and then I saw it:

Cosie and Daniel were sitting in the middle of the living area floor…with a dead mouse between them.


Let’s be honest, I could say that I reacted all cool about seeing a dead mouse while standing naked in my apartment, but that would be untruthful. I screamed and retreated to the bathroom. I realized I needed to handle this pronto, but I had never imagined it would happen while I was unclothed. I decided I would throw on some clothes so I could pick the mouse up in a bag and run it straight down to the garbage cans. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to work. Cosie was now batting the thing across the hardwood floors…and then she picked it up in her mouth and tossed it up in the air.

Obviously I panicked and started to shriek, “AHHH! OMG! Cosie! Drop it! Drop it! Drop it!”

Some would say it was wrong to yell at her and rain on the proudest moment of her life. I, of course, realize that Cosie is hard of hearing and had no idea I was saying anything other than, “Nice kitty! Good job! Disembowel it!”

The scene looked a lot like Kitty Christmas:

Except, you know…with a real mouse.

I quickly ran into the kitchen, grabbed a plastic bag, picked up the mouse (before Cosie could take it off somewhere I couldn’t find it) and shoved it in my kitchen trash can. Then I dressed faster than I ever had before so I could take the garbage outside. So. Fricken’. Gross.

Cosie seemed kind of depressed after that. She tried in vain to play with a toy, but it just wasn’t the same. I had taken away the best toy she had ever had in her entire life.

Unlike Cosie, I was quite relieved to have the mouse removed. I figured the worst was over.

Then I remembered…it was only 7:20am. I was going to have to feed mouse breath over there her morning dose of felimazole. Well happy belated birthday to me.

I washed my hands a bazillion times afterward. As a matter of fact, I think I may go wash them again. Just to be sure.

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Happy 70th, Bob

I had so deeply wanted to do a special birthday post today, dedicated to Bob Dylan. A really long one.

Unfortunately, last week got eaten up by life and I only have a few minutes to discuss his Bob-ness before my ride comes and sweeps me off to my own birthday adventure.

(My birthday is Friday. I’ll be 29. Since I was a c-section, I’m still bitter that my parents didn’t work it out so that Bob and I could be birthday twins. Oh well. I guess I’ll get over it…)

Bob Dylan came into my life at a time during which I needed him most. I was 18 years old and I had just started college. I had never felt more…alone. Sure, I had friends and hobbies. More importantly, I had my friends’ hobbies. I didn’t feel like I had anything to call my own. Nothing was speaking to me and I hadn’t found my “place” in the world. I was just…there.

Then I found Bob.

I spent 4 or 5 years, traveling all over the country to see Dylan, with friends I had met on the internet. I think it scared my mother, at first. I mean, her kid was just traipsing all over the country, hunkering down in hotel rooms and hitching rides with people she had only ever met on some weird site called “The Dylan Pool“…but it was one of the best times of my life.

Outside one of the best Dylan shows I ever saw…Augusta, ME 8/4/02…look! I’m wearing chucks!

I even made some really great friends along the way. While we don’t keep in touch as much as we used to (life gets in the way…), we still love to occasionally connect and discuss all of the craziness that went on during our trips. Just recently, a friend of mine was recalling our love of soft serve and I dug up this picture:

Robert, Julie and I during the infamous California summer fair series. We got soft serve before every single concert. We were documenting the experience for posterity!

Now I have seen Bob nearly 40 times and in 7 different states. Those stats really aren’t that impressive when you compare them to other Dylan fans, but for me, I feel good about it. Bob has a special place in my life and I always go back to him.

Everyone wants to call Dylan the voice of a generation and make a huge hoopla about his music. Don’t get me wrong, I am all about his music. Thing is, what I love about Dylan is much more than music. It’s about an entire world that opened up to me through his work. It led me to authors I had never read and old scratchy blues musicians I had never heard of. It led me from Kerouac to Rimbaud, from Roy Orbison to Hank Williams, from the White Stripes to The Waifs and from one side of the country to the other. I didn’t stop just with Dylan’s vast discography….every single thing that Dylan puts out makes me want to read and delve further into history. It was something I never did prior to that and I am who I am today because I did. It helped me find my place, and I am forever grateful for that.

Thanks Bob. Happy 70th Birthday. Have some soft serve for me.

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Tough Week

I had a difficult week last week, which is unfortunate, but that is the way life goes.

The first problem I had was on Tuesday morning. I was in bed with my laptop. I had only been awake for a little bit and I hadn’t even had my coffee yet. All of a sudden, it seemed like the sound of rain falling had gotten louder. In fact, it sounded almost as if it were raining inside of my apartment.

It was raining inside of my apartment.

I have a small storage area next to my bed in which I keep a lot of things that I don’t use every  day. The space is very strange..sort of sunk into the wall. We believe it may’ve been the site of a trundle-bed back when the building was originally built. I live in an old Victorian, and it was really common for Victorians to have murphy beds. We believe that in my studio’s case, it may’ve been a trundle. Anyway, there is no bed in there these days. Just my junk.

My next-door neighbor moved out at the beginning of May, so the landlord had some cleaning  people coming to spruce up the place. I share a wall with the next apartment’s bathroom. In their zealous cleaning attempt, they caused the great flood of 2011. When I realized what was going on, I leaped out of bed and ran next door, barefoot and in pajamas to tell them to stop. They didn’t speak English. I sort of half ass understand Spanish, but my ability to construct a sentence, especially in times of crisis is greatly limited. I just kept gesturing and saying “STOP!!!” a lot. Finally the lady I was talking to got one of her co-workers to come over who kind of spoke English and she apologized. I thanked her and went back to my apartment. I was in here for 5 minutes before it started AGAIN. I ran back over and repeated the same scene.

When the water finally stopped flowing, I assessed the damage:



Luckily most things that I keep in that area are stored in plastic crates and were protected. There were a few casualties though. I had stashed some Cooking Light magazines and a few instruction manuals under there. Also the Wii box got pretty wet (don’t worry..the Wii was on the other side of the room at the time). The items that took the most abuse where my spare external HDs. The one on the right side had been in that box, which essentially disintegrated when I attempted to open it. The one on the left didn’t even have a box. I’m not sure if either of them work anymore. I plan on checking, but I wanted to give them the opportunity to dry out.

Aside from my own property damage, there was also some damage to my unit:

Even after I cleaned the walls and floor, there was still staining. You can essentially see where my storage boxes had been sitting. Going to have to make sure to send this picture off to the landlord so I don’t get charged upon moving out..

After that drama was over and I had my first cup of coffee, my next problem began.

I noticed that my cat, Cosie, was acting strangely. She wasn’t eating for starters. Secondly, she kept pacing in and out of the litter box. She would pee, and then leave, then go back and strain. I was concerned about her, so I tried to feed her a little human food (chicken salad). She ate a couple of bites, but wasn’t too interested. She was spending a lot more time than usual lying around and her eyes didn’t look very good. I was concerned, but I decided to watch her for another day.

When Wednesday came around and she still refused to eat and the litter box behavior continued, I got scared. I went to the pet store and got some senior cat nutrition supplement (kind of like Ensure, but for cats). She drank a few sips, and then sat back down. The only time she really seemed to get active was to go pace around the litter box, or to lick her behind. You see, she was licking a lot more than usual…when paired with the other symptoms, I did not feel good about Cosie’s state at all. That evening I called a 24 hour vet, explained the symptoms and asked if she should come in. They said I could bring her in right away if I wanted to, but it was a very busy night. I decided to make a 9am urgent care appointment, and hope that she would start eating again in the morning on her own and she wouldn’t have to go in.

The next morning came and she still looked pretty bad and eating still wasn’t on her to-do list. I packed her up in her carrier (her least favorite thing ever) and had Peter, my co-worker, drop me off at the vet on his way to work.

To be honest, I think I reacted to taking Cosie to the vet worse than she reacted to being crated. Historically, whenever we have had older animals who have gotten sick and had to be taken into the vet, the result has always been the same: They got put down. So the immediate thought that came to me when I realized I was going to have to take my 14-year-old cat to the vet was that she wasn’t coming home with me. As irrational as it was, I cried for half of Wednesday. I had hoped that my early tears would spare me from acting like an idiot at the vet, but no such luck. As soon as I sat down to fill out the paperwork I started sobbing again. Then I got better. Then we went into an exam room and it started again:

Vet: “Hi. I’m Dr. ____”

Alexa: *shakes hand, starts hysterically crying* “I don’t do well with pet illness….”

Vet: “Okay…”

As the appointment went on, I improved. The vet examined Cosie and said that off the back he couldn’t figure out what exactly was wrong. He said there were a few ways we could go about testing her for a diagnosis. Having heard me explain that Cosie hadn’t been to the vet since she ripped her paw open and needed stitches about 10 years ago, he suggested that he go get print outs of the two plans so I would understand the cost involved. When he returned, he presented me with a $321 plan and a $730 plan. We discussed the options and decided to go with the $321 plan, with the understanding that we could add-on additional tests if needed.

So for $321, Cosie got her annual exam, a senior wellness exam (blood panels, urine tests, etc.), a shot of anti-nausea medication (to hopefully induce hunger) and some IV fluids to rehydrate her. Then we went home to wait, as the results wouldn’t be ready until Friday. On the bright side, once home, Cosie dove into some food I put down and seemed a little better. Still sick, for sure, but more herself.

On Friday at work, I received the news. Cosie has feline hyperthyroidism. He cautioned me that though he could see no other problems, the hyperthyroidism could be masking issues. So the plan is to medicate Cosie, then have her come back in after 3-4 weeks and check her levels to see how she is doing. He also still wasn’t sure about why she was licking so much, so he asked me to bring her back in (for free) when I came to pick up the pills. He said he didn’t see something he normally checks in his notes, so he wanted to check her anal glands (yeah, I know. ick.) before we start running other tests at additional cost to me.

So after butt poking and pill popping, Cosie seems much more herself. Eating plenty, using the litter box the normal amount and licking far less than she was earlier in the week. I have to give her a pill once a day for the first week, and then every 12 hours from then on. My sister is totally lucking out. She’s going to be staying at my place, cat sitting while I am in Reno celebrating my birthday this week…she only has to administer one pill! Trust me, the fewer the better…Cosie does NOT like pills!

While I am not excited about the new expense or the idea of trying to get Cosie to take her medicine, I am glad that she is doing so much better. I realize that being 14, Cosie is probably in her last 5 years of life, and that I will have to lose her at some point, but I’m glad that point wasn’t this week. I’ve had my kitty since I was 15 years old. She is the best.

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