I am happy to say that Lucy is back from the vet and is perfectly fine, although not without one or two developments.
Right around 2:30 Wednesday afternoon I got a call from the vet, and thought "Great! It's time to go pick her up!" Nope - turns out her gums were worse than the vet thought, and she needed to have a tooth pulled or else it could get much more serious. Well, when you get a call like that, of course you tell them to go ahead and do it, which I did. But then I spent the next 3 hours worrying and waiting ... and waiting ... and waiting.
The vet never called me a second time to tell me she was ready. When it got to be 5:30 I decided to call them myself, since I know they close at 6 and I really wanted her to come home. So I called, but got the answering machine, and finally decided the heck-with-it-all, I'd just drive there and see for myself.
All along the way I was worried and nervous; not because I was really afraid that something was wrong, but I just wanted to know what was going on.
Well, I got there, and turns out they were having a very busy day and just hadn't had the chance to call, which was fine, since everybody has those days and deserves some slack. Lucy came through just fine too, only she has to have some antibiotics twice a day for a week ... and in less than a day she's already learned what the dropper is and runs the second she thinks I'm going for it. Fortunately, I am still smarter than my cat and can catch her pretty easily, and once I have her it's relatively simple to grab the scruff and force the dropper in her mouth.