Last month I posted a frantic plea for a ferret sitter because I had to go
out of the country on business and my little girl, Selena, had recently
been diagnosed with insulinoma and needed careful monitoring.  It was
heart-warming to have received offers from quite literally far and wide to
take my little princess into their homes and watch over her in my absence.
Fortunately, a nearby ferret-mom with years of experience (unfortunately)
dealing with this disease in her own furbies graciously came to our rescue,
giving most generously of her time.  Thanks to all who volunteered their
homes and most of all to Beth who spent time each day with Selena and even
played with my cats (to whom she is allergic).
 
It turns out Selena's disease progressed more rapidly than expected and I
cut my trip short (still waiting to see if I'll be in trouble at work for
that - not everyone understands my devotion to something they think looks
like a rat) because the pred wasn't keeping her stable.  Dr. Weiss removed
a part of her pancreas, both adrenal glands (she had only moderate symptoms
externally - mostly an overall thinner, drier coat that I had attributed to
her advanced age - she'll be eight in August) and her spleen (which had a
mass on the inner side, not palpable on external exam).  She seems to be
recovering, slowly.  I'm keeping close watch on her and keeping my fingers
crossed.
 
I was very conflicted about the surgery.  Not because I didn't think she
needed it, or because I doubted Dr. Weiss's abilities, but because I had a
very tragic experience last spring with Selena's companion, Bellona.  Bell
was about 3 years old, adopted a few months after Selena's lifetime (5 1/2
years) friend Rowan passed away from adrenal disease (both glands) and
insulinoma (didn't know about Dr. Weiss or lupron then).  Bell developed
the classic bilateral hair loss patern about six months after she came to
live with us and I took her to a clinic (not our regular vet who is
wonderful with ferrets and always willing to learn more about them and
their care) where they did cryo-surgery.  I stayed in the lobby during the
surgery and visited Bell in her recovery cage and she seemed groggy but
okay.  They told me they needed to keep her overnight for intensive care
(IV fluids, etc) as was their standard practice for ferret surgeries.  I
came back less than 24 hours later as was escorted to her cage where I
found her unconscious, cold as ice, bleeding from the rectum, lying on a
soaking wet towel, dehydrated (her IV pulled out - soaking the towels and
contributing to her cooling off), in a cage with a bowl of cold, hardened
feline AD.  She was also hypoglycemic.  My cry of anguish brought a vet
running back (the entire staff was up front for their weekly "customer
service" meeting).  She grabbed Bell and started shouting orders for warm
towels, another IV kit, prednisone, dexamethasone, glucose, etc.  Bell woke
for a few seconds, cried out, and slipped back into a coma.  Twelve hours
later, after numerous injections of meds to get/keep her heart beating, and
being put on a ventilator, she stopped responding to the treatments and
slipped away.  I was there petting her little head the whole time, knowing
in my heart that, from that initial cry, she wasn't coming back, but not
able to give up on her.  During all of this, I noticed her entire lower
back and hips were bruised and there was an abrasion over the lower half of
her spine.  I also noted that her hind limbs never twitched during any of
the seizures and that her little back feet never warmed up.  I was never
given an explanation for this though I suspect she may have fallen from her
cage and damaged her back at some point during the night as the cage was
about 4 feet above a hard tile floor and the doors, which could be slid
open, were held closed with surgical tape that any ferret worth it's salt
could've dug through.  For her to have been in such poor condition (severe
hypothermia and hypoglycemia don't just happen suddenly) means no one was
really checking on her (maybe they just looked in the cage to make sure she
was physically present?) or making sure she was warm or hydrated, etc.  I'm
still very angry, which keeps the sadness at bay, not just at this
senseless loss of a young, active and healthy ferret, but because the
loss of her second companion seemed to have taken a lot of the life out of
Selena who hasn't dooked or danced since.  Now, that may be due to the
insulinoma, etc.  But I think it was also grief.  I guess the lesson I
learned is, no matter how skilled the surgeon or how high tech the
equipment, appropriate monitoring and post op care are critical for these
little guys.  If you can't bring them home after sugery, don't be afraid to
come "visit" every few hours to make sure they are getting what they need.
As Beth reminded me, we are our animals' advocates, and as such must be
ever diligent and unafraid of how we will be perceived by the staff.  If
they are caring people (which we would hope all involved in caring for our
animals are) they will understand.
 
Anyway, I'm hoping Selena recovers fully and begins to dance again soon.
Perhaps I will find her another ferret friend or two to dance with (but
don't tell my poor landlords who never really wanted furry critters in
their house but took pity on me and my four-legged daughters when no
apartment complex would take us all).
 
Tammy, a.k.a. Selena's mom and servant to the Cat Girls
[Posted in FML issue 3033]