I realize it’s been quite some TIME since I’ve written a post, almost a MONTH!, so today I decided to sit down and write one, and it’s going to be a long one, so get yourselves some tea and get comfy… 😉
CHAPTER ONE. PEEKABOO: in September I spent a lot of time researching possibly helpful but definitely non-toxic treatments for Peekaboo, my 11-year-old kitty whom I’ve written a lot about in recent times. She has a slipped disc, basically, and has been having a VERY hard time walking. The risk, of course, is that she’d stop walking altogether. Couldn’t let that happen!
I discovered that laser therapy might work…the vets agreed…so we planned about 10 sessions. I had to take her to the clinic for these treatments. Sounds easy, but driving with a constant whiny and quite loud “meow…meow…meow…!!!” in my ears, to and from the clinic, three times a week, in TRAFFIC (anyone who has ever driven in Florence will sympathize with me, I’m sure), almost drove me batty. The important thing, though, is that this therapy has worked quite well. She is walking again, in her own way (with her back end low to the ground), but yes, WALKING. Indeed, now that I’ve added arnica to her wet food once a day, she has also been seen RUNNING. Amazing recovery. Amazing cat.
CHAPTER TWO. PINGA. That’s our 9-year-old kitty, the apple of my eye. Stefano’s apple, too. But really, everyone adores Pinga. She’s an adorable little thing. Anyway, point is that months ago, almost suddenly, we noticed that she’d lost some weight. She’s never been an overweight cat…Her top weight was 3.5 kilos (7.7 pounds) in 2015. But before we left for Scotland, her weight had decreased to 3 kilos (about 6.6 pounds). We were worried, but to be honest, the worry over Peekaboo and her cancer had taken over our lives back in July, and we just couldn’t deal with Pinga. However, I vowed that if she weighed less than 3 kilos when we got back to Florence, I’d take her to the clinic for a checkup.
Indeed, she lost a bit more weight in August. She was down to 2.7 kilos (5.9 lbs). I took her to the clinic as soon as I could, with fear in my heart. I’d read online that weight loss could be due to a million horrible things…diabetes, cancer, etc. Scary stuff.
Pinga didn’t collaborate with the vets. She never has. Our sweet, tiny, darling kitty who will wrap her paws around your neck and purr ecstatically into your face, giving you loving head bumps, turns into a ferocious tiger whenever she smells a vet. In her file at the vet clinic, a note defines her as a “dangerous cat” (“gatto pericoloso,” in Italian). No kidding. This time was no different: three vets tried to hold her down and draw a bit of blood from her hind leg. Nope. Didn’t happen. And the screeches…mamma mia! I had to leave the exam room…too unsettling…
She had to be sedated. Under sedation, she had an MRI and a bunch of other tests…The RESULT is that she appears to have nothing more serious than a slight intestinal inflammation. That, we can deal with. Relief…So Pinga is okay, just…TINY.
CHAPTER THREE. MARGARET. Because of what had happened to me in Scotland (the leg pain/aching business that I wrote about in an earlier post), I decided to take action, even though everything is back to normal again…no leg pain, I mean. And so in mid September I joined a before-dinner Pilates class with my neighbor (also one of my best friends). Twice a week. We have an amazing instructor and love the class. So that is a good bit of news. I always felt fabulous after each class.
But…something happened ten days ago…on October 9th…the last class I attended.
Before our Pilates class, there is another class devoted to some sort of gymnastics for small children, aged five, more or less. On that infamous October 9th, once the children had left with their parents, we walked into the room, and it smelled terrible. Yuck. We opened all the windows and aired the room out for ten minutes. Clearly, not enough.
I must have picked IT up there. No other explanation.
IT happens to be bronchial pneumonia. Broncopolmonite, in Italian. A bad case, to boot. IT began on October 10th with some non-pneumonia-like symptoms, such as vomiting and extreme fatigue (I slept all day Wednesday, and then most of Thursday, too). In the beginning I thought it was “just” that well-known, pesky virus that gets me when I’m tired and/or stressed out. Indeed, perhaps it was. I felt much better on Friday, but then not so great on Saturday. The timeline is a bit fuzzy, to be honest. I didn’t write anything down. I should have.
Anyway, what’s certain is that by Sunday afternoon I had a fever of 39.8° Celsius, equivalent to 103.64° Fahrenheit. Wowsie!
Funny thing was, I felt okay even though my forehead was burning…I mean, I wasn’t delirious or anything. Gave Stefano quite a scare, though. Monday morning we called the doctor who wanted me to go over to his office, but we had to get the fever down first. So I didn’t actually see him until Wednesday morning. To get the fever down and cover a few bases, he put me on a high dose of paracetamol and an antibiotic.
The worst was the pain, which began on Monday, as I recall. IT felt as though a medieval knight had stuck his spear into me, just under my left shoulder, and had left it hanging there to torment me. Ouch. I figured I had pleurisy, which I’d already had (on the other side, other lung) many many many years ago. Same kind of persistent, awful, at times almost unbearable pain.
Okay, so on Wednesday morning, after almost 24 hours without fever, we made it to the doctor’s office. He heard some “activity” in that shoulder area and told me to go have an X-ray. Stefano drove me over to a clinic where I had the X-ray, which the doctor had marked as urgent. The X-ray technician told me that my results wouldn’t be ready, however, until the following EVENING. I almost died on the spot. Well, okay, exaggerating a bit there.
I asked her if there was ANYTHING she could do, explained about the myeloma, and that, = mentioning the myeloma!, did the trick. She said that, with my consent, she might be able to show my X-rays to another radiologist in the building. You can imagine my answer. So Stefano and I sat down and waited. After about an hour, I had my result. We drove back to the doctor’s office, which did wonders for my spear pain…ouch. He wrote a prescription for the ANTIBIOTIC BOMB that I’m going to be taking for the next ten days.
I’ve been on the BOMB for more than 48 hours now. The good news is that the spear is gone. Actually, there is only good news! All that is left is an occasional mild dagger-like pain. Yay. Yes, I’m coughing, but it’s not major coughing, oddly enough. I feel so much better, although very tired of course. And I’m slowly getting back into my household routines, such as feeding the cats, preparing and administering Peekaboo’s (non-toxic!) meds…This morning I even did some laundry! I have to be careful, I know that, so I’m also taking lots of naps surrounded by my furry nurses…and watching lots of TV series and documentaries.
Unfortunately, I think my time with Pilates has ended. I can’t risk getting sick like this again. Too bad, but oh well. I know the basics now and can do some exercises at home. I’ll figure out something…
Anyway, the main thing is that I’m going to be fine…in a couple of weeks…or less, even! 🙂
When, many many years ago (19, but who’s counting?
The Fairy Pools are a series of waterfalls and crystal-clear green/blue pools located on the Isle of Skye, Scotland. it’s an absolutely beautiful spot…highly recommended…My photos don’t do it justice, but you can check online for MUCH better ones.
The best moment, though, was when I looked down into one of the pools, almost directly below my feet, and watched in wonder as a sopping wet young man (a Scotsman), wearing nothing but bathing trunks and sneakers (compare that to Stefano who was wearing four layers of clothing, including a Gore Tex jacket!), climbed up the steep ravine. After reaching the top, he walked right past me and, to my complete surprise, JUMPED, as you can see in the ONLY blurry photo (above) that I managed to take with my cellphone. What a scary (exciting, too, I admit) moment! Jumping off those steep rocks to land with a splash into one of the Fairy Pools isn’t something that I would recommend, for sure…unless you know what you’re doing. This guy did, of course. But…brrrrrrrrrrrrrr, just the memory makes me shiver…

Instead of going on and on about each place we visited in Scotland, I’ve decided to put together a series of anecdotes, cute or funny things that happened during our stay there.
I have a couple of videos of that encounter. Lots of fun. Oh, and I shouldn’t forget to repeat (see my September 4th post) that we had tea in our first ever cat café in Glasgow, the Purple Cat Café. I noticed it as we were driving around trying to reach our hotel. The navigator gave us the wrong directions, so we ended up driving around in circles a couple of times. And at one point during these “circles,” I happened to notice the sign, “Purple Cat Café.” If it hadn’t been for that batty navigator, we would have missed the café. Sometimes things just…happen! For a good reason, I mean!
We spent three days there. It was here that I got quite high after a tour of one of the distilleries, and Stefano tried to make friends with what he thought was a hen but instead was a rather upset rooster. And we were also able to go have a look at the Kidalton Cross, see photo below, on the right, one of the finest and best preserved early Christian crosses, carved probably in the second half of the 8th century AD. 
, mainly so we could go on a all-day boat and bus tour of Mull, Staffa and Iona, three small islands with different types of appeal. We also visited a nearby fantastic ruined 15th century castle, Kilchurn Castle (see photo on left), as well as a few other ruined castles (Dunollie, Dunstaffnage, and Stalker) in the area.
theropod 170 million years ago more or less. You can find this footprint, marked by small stones by some kind-hearted person, at the An Corran beach at Staffin. The best time to view dinosaur prints, by the way, is in the winter, when they aren’t covered by algae. Since it wasn’t winter (although it was cold enough, at times!), we didn’t find that many…

Anyway, now we can say, “been there, done that,” plus we got to spend an entire day at a Highland Game in Drumnadrochit, which was heaps of fun, sort of like being at a HUGE family reunion (the Scots are so friendly!), with adorable young girls doing traditional dances in kilts (see photo), big strong guys in kilts throwing extremely heavy items up in the air, bagpipe marches and competitions (see photo), and a final kilt race (I tried to get Stefano to participate, but he refused, I wonder why…….)…
Yes, lots of fun. Highland Games, highly recommended!
I couldn’t help ending this long series of photos with one of a “Skye” goat that had just moved off the road so we could pass. He doesn’t look too pleased about it, does he?
Speaking of encounters: one morning, while walking through a wood on our way to visit a ruined castle, we came across a doe and her two fawns. They popped out of the trees right in front of us. We froze, they froze, then the mother jumped across the path and disappeared into the trees. The rather fearful fawns just stood there looking at us (especially the one that isn’t in this photo). My biggest regret is that I was so startled that I didn’t start taking photos until the fawns began following their mother…Plus, it was a bit dark down there, so, yes, all my photos turned out fuzzy, as you can see. No matter…Fuzzy or not, these photos will remind me of that magical moment…
The Purple Cat Café in Glasgow (see photo of one of the 26 rescue kitties that live there). Trust
Going on a tour of a whisky distillery. Note: I don’t drink alcohol, generally speaking, although I don’t mind an occasional sip of a good Brunello di Montalcino. Stefano, however, is a whisky connoisseur, and so we spent three full days on the isle of Islay, the southernmost island of the Inner Hebrides, which is well known for its distilleries–Laphroaig, Lagavulin, Ardbeg, and a bunch of others. I finally gave in and accompanied Stefano on a TWO-hour (!) tour of Ardbeg, at the end of which some very amusing things happened. Upcoming post, upcoming post…
Peekaboo, my 11-year-old cat, is such a star. Our amazing little star…And yes, in case you’re wondering, all of these photos are recent, post-surgery photos. Obviously, her right side looks better than her left, as you can see…But once her fur grows back, she’ll be as good as new (not that that’s the most important thing, of course!).


They tested forskolin with other conventional myeloma drugs, too: bortezomib (Velcade), cyclophosphamide, doxorubicin, and melphalan.