Ben is not pleased with his meds.
The first dose got by because he didn’t see it coming, the second dose was easy because I had an assistant to pin His Felinity to the couch while I shot Clavamox down his throat.
The third dose…well, most of it got in him, and my right thumb looks like it tried counting coup with a blender. (In fairness to Ben, he pulled most of the punches–he was trying to fend me off, not murder me, so they’re thin slices, not gashes.)
In a way this is almost easier–he’s decided he’s going to be obstreperous, fine, there are workarounds. Ben and I understand each other perfectly well. I just feel bad getting out the towel and jumping him without warning if he’s taking his meds meekly and all.
But he definitely feels better with painkillers in him–he went and chased Angus around for a bit this afternoon. This is a bit of an improvement–last night he was positively stoned. He crawled up on my lap and went completely limp for an hour or so, then sacked out in the chair and never did come to bed. Petting him resulted in vague purring, and a “The cat you are trying to reach is out of service” message.
Well, were I Ben, I’d much rather be stoned than in pain for the next week, so I’m glad of that.
Meanwhile, I’m on the fourth day of half-doses of Effexor, and have noticed no particular side-effects. (They were probably lost in the flu.) I’m not notably less tired, but I do seem a trifle more motivated (could be a kind of un-placebo effect.) I have gotten the occasional mild head-zap, but it’s no worse than what I get from having low blood-pressure, and they don’t freak me out particularly.
Further reports as they happen!
