We went back to the doctor (to get another shrink...sorry. Wrong song) for Delilah's kidney recheck. He poked and prodded while she put up with it, then he took her out of the room to draw some blood. I'm glad they don't do that with me in the room. Partly 'cause I'd be upset to see it, and partly because I think she'd be upset for me for not helping her get away from the man with the sharp object.
While they were gone, I read this poster with a chart on it that was equating dog and cat years with human ones. It only went up to 15, and at 15 (according to the chart) a cat's age is equivalent to that of a 75-year-old human. Cripes! When Dr. M. came back into the room with my cat, I mentioned that the chart stopped at 15 years. His assistant found me another one that went farther. 18 is 88, 19 is 92, so right now Delilah is the feline equivalent of 90! Yowza.
I got a voice mail from the vet on Thursday. He says she's stabilized, and that actually it looked like her levels had improved a little. He dismissed that as a fluctuation. He wants me to put her on calcitriol, and called Franck's Pharmacy for me--said they'll call me in a day or two. He gave me an 800-number, which made me wonder if this was going to be a mail-order prescription.
I looked them up on the web. It is. They're in Ocala, FL, and it looks like they're the only people who compound calcitriol for veterinary use. Here's the article on the stuff she's going to take, and what it does for her. Sounds promising.
I can't get over the age thing. 90. I hope I'm still galloping around at 90.