My Cat Had Gender Reassignment Surgery (Kind of)...

MY bench seat...

Normally, my blogs are... really random...? I suppose that's the best way to put it. I write about whatever happens to be bopping around in my brain at that moment. But this entry is different and I have good reason for writing it.

The big puffball pictured on the left is my reason... This is my Maine Coon mix, Sebastian. Recently, my poor baby had to have Perineal Urethrostomy surgery. I'm sure that most of you, even those that are cat parents, are sitting there asking yourselves, "Perineal Urethrostomy...? What the hell is that?!?" I know I had asked myself that very question, which led me to do some research online to find out exactly what that was.
I found the answers to my question... If you follow the above link, you, too, can have the answer. A word of warning; there are photos and they are NOT for the squeamish. So if your stomach turns easily, maybe you want to check out a less graphic explanation.
The problem is that, while technical or medical explanations are helpful, they really don't prepare you for what all of this really means in the long run or how difficult and unnerving post operative care can sometimes be. I was fortunate that I found two people who had written blogs about their own personal experience, which was the best information I could have read. And, since there were only two blogs on this, I thought I would add one myself.

I'm not fat; I really am just fluffy...

But before I delve into a personal look at what I've been referring to as "feline gender reassignment surgery", let me give you a feel for my fluffy friend...
Sebastian knew from the start where he was meant to be. It began with a stroll through the mall pet store, a chance passing with a fuzzy little kitten in a cage with a few roomies... Every time I passed by the cage, there was only one kitten who meowed (loudly, I might add) at me. I've had cats all my life (it's a lot of years, trust me) and have never owned a male cat nor owned more than one at a time.
When I met this very vocal little guy, I already had a cat at home and she wasn't very fond of other cats... I mean, she hated other cats. I would often hear this strange thumping and find that it was her, thumping her tail harshly against the living room window because a neighborhood cat walked past the house. I wasn't sure another cat would be welcome from her standpoint, but if it was going to work, I knew it had to be a kitten, someone she could boss around and teach them how to cat. And it was obvious that this vocal, hairy little bit of fluff knew where he was meant to be in this world. What else could I do...? I gave it some thought, returned the following day and the newly named Sebastian came home with me.

Ah, there's no place like home...

Thankfully, the two dogs and other cat in my home welcomed this new addition, either with curiosity or indifference. Over time, he definitely won them over. And he stole my heart...
Sebastian is probably the best cat I've ever had the pleasure of sharing my life with. Look at that face! How can you not love that face?! Okay, that's cat mom bias, there... But he really is the best cat I've ever had. I was leery about having a male cat. They have a bad rep for spraying if they're not neutered as well as getting nasty as they age. Thankfully, Sebastian didn't spray at all before he was neutered at two years of age. He did hump... but it was only this old blanket, nothing else. And after he was neutered, his "girlfriend" broke things off (otherwise known as I threw her in a bag and put her out for the trash).
Sebastian has the best personality. He's very mellow and laid back. I often call him a marshmallow because he's such a softy. He's very affectionate and loving, is the most social of butterflies... He's even loving and affectionate with the staff at the vet's, which is unusual for a cat. I have never had a cat that liked the people who shoved thermometers up their asses...

Don't replace the microwave! I love this one!

For over 7 years, Sebastian has been an amazing part of my home. He's been the best companion, the most loving ball of fluff. Then, about a month ago, something suddenly changed in my feline friend...
One day, I noticed Sebastian squatting right in the middle of the living room floor! That wasn't like him. No what the condition of the litter box, he was never particular like some cats ("Omg, there's a tiny piece of poop in this box, IT'S TOO DIRTY!!") and never went outside the box. Yet, here he was, squatting on my living room floor. I tried to give him a gentle nudge, but he remained in the same position. Then I tried gently guiding him towards the direction of the litter box. He hissed at me... My marshmallow of a cat actually hissed at me! I was confused... even more so when he hissed again when I walked near him. I decided to back away and just observe him for a few minutes. He squatted several more times at various areas throughout the bottom floor of the house. But his squatting wasn't what was most concerning... What was most concerning was that, even with all this squatting, nothing was coming out. Not even one tiny drop of pee was to be found anywhere. Frantic, I immediately called the vet.

Silly human, thinking the chair is yours...

They informed me it sounded as if Sebastian had a urinary blockage and I had to bring him in. I made the appointment for later that evening as I had a few appointments of my own that day.
Thankfully, Sebastian was finally able to relieve himself (several times, on the bare floor where I would find it) before we went to the vet. He was a happy boy again! However, the doctor informed me that he was probably very close to having a full blockage and it could happen again... She sent us home with some pills to relax his urethra as well as a liquid pain medication. He seemed fine for a few days, until...
You guessed it; the squatting began again.
I had been reading up on the condition of a urinary blockage in male cats. It wasn't pretty... When I first took Sebastian to the vet, this sounded like the feline equivalent of kidney stones. And, in some ways, I wasn't wrong. Cats, particularly males, can develop crystals, stones and/or mucus in their urine which can block the urethra. But unlike most kidney stones, these blockages aren't always temporary. When I took him to the vet the second time, he was fully blocked and his tiny feline bladder was the size of a small orange and firm. I was told he had to be catheterized to try and unblock him. If I didn't, his bladder could rupture or he could suffer kidney damage.

This will be your cat on pain meds...

Sebastian was sedated, catheterized and drained. Due to his urine not being as clear as they would have liked, he had to stay two nights. He was sent home with more of the pills, more pain meds and a liquid antibiotic that he promptly spit all over the floor every time I gave it to him. I don't know why they make them banana flavored... It's a cat, not a monkey...
Something to make note of... your cat will be stoned off his fuzzy little ass. That's not an exaggeration, sadly enough. I mean, your cat will literally be tripping balls. They will hallucinate, drool all over themselves and forget how to chew because they're so high. Sebastian came home Friday evening a very happy cat. However, I noticed he wasn't drinking or eating. I thought, perhaps, it was because he was so incredibly stoned. The first time he was on these pain meds, he had difficulty doing both for that reason. I thought he just figured the hell with it, he'd wait until he was in his right mind. So I cut back on the pain meds, hoping he'd sober up enough to at least drink. But no such luck... He still wasn't eating or drinking and he was running to the litter box often with urgency, grunting with effort and producing nothing. By late Monday, he'd taken to hiding by my drafting table and refused to come out of the dark corner he'd found.

My state of mind for the past month...

By the next morning, not only was he acting sick, he looked sick... I knew what that meant... When I had picked him up from the vet, the doctor told me that, if he blocked again, he was a good candidate for surgery. Now, I had also read up on that and, after my conversation with the doctor, I had wrestled with what I was going to do...
PU surgery is incredibly radical... To put it simply, they would charge me a large sum of money to turn my cat into a eunuch so he could pee on his own again. Literally... The urethra of a male cat is more narrow than that of a female, especially through the penis. PU surgery entails that the penis be removed (as well as the testicles) and the wider part of the urethra be rerouted down near the anus where they stitch it fast to the abdominal skin.
I literally wrestled with this dilemma when I noticed that Sebastian was still not functioning. Surgery sounded like some sort of cruel mutilation to me. How could I do that to my marshmallow?! Worse, how would I afford it?! At that point, I had spent well over $1,000 due to these blockages, the majority of which I had to borrow from family. How could I afford something as great as a major surgery?! So many people had told me to do the humane thing and end his suffering. Yet I didn't think I had the heart to do that...

A must have chart for cat parents

Sebastian will be 8 years old next month. In human years... he's probably close to my own age. I know I still have a lot of life to live yet and I know Sebastian does as well. I couldn't bring myself to snuff out the life of anything so young, especially my marshmallow feline friend.
I called the vet and was informed that Sebastian would need surgery and would have to come in right away. I had to make a 30 minute drive... in a snowstorm... in a Toyota Yaris... Yes, I was insane, but I love my cat. After all he's done for me, this seemed like a small feat to perform in order to save his life. I found out the cost, called a family member to borrow what I needed, then I made the trek out in the snow to rush Sebastian to the vet as fast as I could safely travel.
There is not a worse feeling in the world than telling someone to purposely mutilate your cat... Well... that's not exactly accurate. The only thing worse than that is having to sign a paper that states, if your cat goes into cardiac arrest, that you do not want them resuscitated. That is the most horrible feeling... I was so riddled with guilt over all my decisions and was terrified that this may be the last time I see my cat, my friend... Despite the road conditions quickly taking a bad turn, I took time to spend in a room with him, hugging him, tears streaming down my face, apologizing to him over and over again. Eventually, I handed him to one of the techs and promised that I would see him when he was ready to come home.

My mind set while my cat got his knob lopped off...

I came home a blubbering mess... I was overwhelmed with anxiety and guilt. And no matter what I did to try and distract myself, I found that it only made things worse.
I was relieved when they finally called me mid afternoon that day to say Sebastian had a successful surgery, everything went great and he was still sleeping off the anesthesia. He had made it! So I assume even prayers of atheists get heard and can be answered!
Okay, I don't really believe that... I just told you, I'm an atheist... Did I pray that day? In a way, yes. Do I really think that there is a being called God that answered said prayers? No. But I don't want to get into a religious discussion. They're unnerving and irritating. I'll have my beliefs, you have yours, and we'll just call it even...

Human, we need to discuss my lack of a knob...

Even though the vet makes sure you're well informed before surgery as to what you'll be in for, even though you do research and read people's personal experiences, I will tell you... you don't know shit...
I'm not saying that to be an asshole or to make it seem like anyone reading this is an idiot. I'm saying it because it is a simple truth... I spent hours online doing research, reading blogs, talking to Sebastian's doctor... Even she seemed so impressed that I had educated myself to the degree that I did. And I'm telling you, despite all that, I didn't know shit...
I had planned on confining Sebastian to the old dog crate I used for puppy training years ago for his safety. After all, he had a feline friend here at home that just loved to have wrestling matches and NASCAR races with Sebastian all over the house. There were also two crazy, hyper Shiba Inus in the house, one of whom has cataracts and dementia, both of whom will race after each other in the house without caring what they're about to run over. I had the special (and insanely expensive) cat food, a small, shallow litter pan for the Yesterday's News litter he needed to use while recovering (yes, they need special litter) and I bought bottled water, hoping that would be better for his condition than the hard water that came from the tap. I had an old mattress cover for him to lay on and I was hyped up like a Nike ad, "Just DO it!"

Your cat will not be happy with you...

Obviously, Sebastian came home sporting the "cone of shame" as he was not allowed to lick the incision. That was a no brainer... He came home with an antibiotic pill, four days worth of an NSAID, more pain medication and a heart medication because he was having difficulty regulating his heart rate. They weren't sure if this was due to surgery, the meds or a possible underlying heart condition. Personally, I think some of it was due to the polar vortex that had come through the area and made it feel as if everyone was living the movie The Day After Tomorrow...
Sebastian had to have his meds once a day (I got bit a lot) and his pain med twice a day. Every evening I had to wipe his incision gently with a wet washcloth to clean it, keep it free of any hair, and twice a day I had to apply sterile KY Jelly to the incision. Doesn't sound too bad, right...? Wrong... All cats give you a hard time swallowing pills, but Sebastian took this to a whole new level. I got bit more times than I care to think about when I tried to put the pills in his mouth before I decided to just spend the $5 to get a pill shooter. He goes to great lengths to spit the pill out no matter how far down his throat and spits it out in a mess of foamy drool that makes him look rabid. He tried conning me into believing he couldn't eat and drink with the collar on (he failed)... And all that paled in comparison to the incision...

Comfort takes a while to achieve...

Sebastian's crotch area looks much like Dr. Frankenstein sewed it together from pieces of other cats... I was in shock and terror the first time I saw it and not just due to the amount of stitches. Everything was so red and angry looking (eventually things began to bruise to make it look even more horrifying). Your nerves are on edge when you have to wipe it with a washcloth because you feel you can't possibly wipe gently enough or that you'll catch the stitches with it and pull. Your cat will give you the stink eye for having to put cold jelly on their sore abdomen and will shoot eye daggers at you for having to touch their incision (especially because you have to get pretty close to their butthole with the jelly). They leak pee for days, which will be tinged with enough blood to freak you out and make you think that they're going to bleed out. They'll be constipated for at least a week. And you'll find yourself throwing a party for your cat the first time he pees and takes a dump. Yes, you will look insane...

Much happier...

And this is not a short process... The stitches have to stay in for 10 to 14 days, during which time, they need to be confined and they won't like it. From leaking blood tinged urine, you cat will be covered in it and will not enjoy you trying to clean it off with cat dry shampoo. And your heart will break, hearing them cry because they want to be free, seeing the misery on their faces because they loathe the "cone of shame", especially because they can't wash or scratch. They'll hate you for having to limit their activity to absolutely nothing...
Worse, there's no guarantee that the surgery will be a complete success. They can still have a large stone that can't pass through the new, wider urethra. Scar tissue can form around the new opening and close it partially which requires yet another surgery. Every day, you find yourself checking to make sure they're still eating, drinking, peeing, pooping... What they make sound like an easy undertaking is actually more like caring for a dying loved one 24/7. It's hard, on so many levels...
It's been a week today since the surgery. The bruising is gone, he's no longer leaking or having blood tinged urine. He pooped for the first time yesterday! It's been a long week, but it's worth it to see my marshmallow returning to normal.

Serenity now...

So, in closing, if you feel you can spend at least a week of pure hell and anxiety, PU surgery is a good option for cats that still have a lot of life left to live. Difficult as it's been, all the scares and frantic calls to the vet to be sure my cat was okay and wasn't about to bleed out and die have been well worth it. Even though, in some ways, I feel I mutilated him (he doesn't seem to mind, he can pee), the affection, the rolling around all fluffy and cute, makes it all worth it. He's my happy marshmallow Sebastian again. And I wouldn't have it any other way...
Just ask the universe for the serenity to handle it...