From the "strange care of aging ferrets" department:
 
Glitz, one of our 6.5 yo fixed jills, had been losing hair prominently over
several months.  Her vet thought it might be the adrenal, but suggested
doing an ultrasound to help make a diagnosis and perhaps a skin biopsy.
After some discussion and thought, we decided (against the vet's advice) to
go for an exploratory surgery, figuring it was in all likelihood the adrenal
and that would significantly improve the quality of life for her.  Also, we
figured the $100+ that would go for ultrasound and skin biopsy would be
better spent on care we thought would be necessary anyway.
 
Well, Glitz came through surgery with flying colors.  Only -- the vet
couldn't find an enlarged adrenal!  He also decided, while she was
unconscious, to do a skin biopsy.  The skin biopsy came back with a positive
on mast cell tumor (if I heard his Australian accent right).  He now agrees
with us that she has an adrenal problem, but that it just isn't large enough
physically to determine which adrenal needs to be removed.  After some
research, he said that treatment for metastasized mast cell tumors (I think
a steroid chemotherapy) might create problems for the adrenal glands.
(According to his description, she right now has no problems with the mast
cells, but as it metastasizes it may hit some vital organs.)
 
So (after some consultation with U Tennessee folks) what he has suggested is
putting Glitz on oral antihistamines (Benadryl) and Tagamet until the
adrenal that's the problem shows its face.  Then we go after it, and the
chemo after that.
 
Fortunately, at the moment, Glitz is rambunctious and happy.  Well, not
happy when we've put her in her cage the last week or so, for she has
several times tried to rip up the paper at the bottom of the cage.  Ah, ferrets.
 
Rael (the one with insulinoma) is going along fine, gaining some strength
slowly with Nutrical.  She's still a skinny widget, and my instinct is she
would not do well with surgery.  But she seems to be doing fine, healthy and
happy with no symptoms.  After what happened with the last surgery, we're
not sure we want to spend another $400 if there's a chance the tumors are
too small to pick up.  We are on a tight budget, however much we'd like to
make medical decisions otherwise.  We're not very upset to have spent the
money for Glitz, as at the time we had very good reason to believe surgery
would dramatically improve the quality of life for her in the long run.  But
once bitten, twice shy.  We'll keep folks up to date.  As of now, they're
comfortable ferrets.
 
And now, funny ferret story about Mego, Elizabeth's ferret in college:
 
One spring, I was the assistant stage manager for a college version of
THREEPENNY OPERA, and I had bought a bunch of carnation for cast and crew.
The extras I gave to Elizabeth before one of the shows, and she quickly ran
to her room and put them in a basin of water on top of her desk.  After the
show, she returned to her room to discover a basin of decapitated flowers.
Almost every flower had been chewed off where it connected with the stem.
Mego (who hated water) had found his way to the top of her desk, reached
over the edge of the basin, and chewed off ALL the flower tops.  Oh, yes, he
took some of them to hide, but left the rest as a warning.  To what, I
didn't know at the time, but now I'm sure he was warning cows.  Yeah, that's
the ticket.
 
This was also the creature whom we knew couldn't jump up through the air
more than six inches.  THis was, of course, until I bought a care package
for Elizabeth at an auction and we brought it to her room and left it in a
high-sided cardboard box on her bed with a pound of grapes in it.  We
returned to find half of the grape stems empty.  Mego was calmly
investigating a bit of clothing on the floor, and we thought maybe the
grapes hadn't been all there to begin with.  Fifteen minutes later, I was
casually reading something, and I caught him crouching, on a short bookshelf
about 30 inches away from the nearest corner of the care package box.  He
then launched himself like a flying squirrel toward the care package and
caught the top edge of the side with his front paws.  He clambered up and
slithered down into the care package.  I picked him up, astounded, and put
him on the ground.
 
Victory dance time.
 
___________
Sherman Dorn
Vanderbilt University
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[Posted in FML issue 1136]