Jack

My precious little soul-shard is approaching the end of his life.  The past two weeks he’s been eating less and less to the point where he was only taking two bites of his food and then never going back for more.  I couldn’t even sway him with cheese!  His food looked like refried beans with cheese – even microwaved to melt the cheese – but no dice.  He wouldn’t eat it.  So I took him to the Vet on Monday.  I wanted an update on his kidneys and to adjust his pain meds anyway.  So away we went. 

It did not go well.  He screamed like a banshee as they tried to draw blood.  I could hear him and I was horrified.  I wanted to run to him and help them.  He’s better with me.  But it continued.  I called Mr C to keep from crying.  Finally, the vet came in and asked if they could sedate him to draw his blood.  Of course, I agreed.  Please dear God let him sleep.  I know that cats hide pain well, but I knew Jack was in pain.  I thought I was just attuned to him.  I had no idea the amount of pain he was really in. 

I knew when I trimmed his nails he was much more sensitive than usual.  And He took a lot longer to get comfortable laying down.  But apparently, I only saw the tip of the iceburg.  His lack of eating might very well have been that he was just miserable and in pain.  He gets gabapentin twice a day for pain.  However, they gave him a brand new arthritis medicine at the vet.  It’s a shot they get monthly.  And while he was out, they took X-Rays to try and understand what was wrong with him while the blood tests processed.   I was much calmer knowing he was asleep and I no longer heard his wails of anguish so I waited to hear what the vet thought. 

Surprisingly, his kidney function is actually better than when he was diagnosed with kidney failure.  The vet commended me on my obvious work to get him healthy.  We had both expected him to have taken a turn for the worse and that was what was happening.   But no.  The X-rays showed a far worse problem.  He has a large mass in his abdomen.  It already almost fills his entire abdominal cavity.  She was surprised he didn’t suffer from shortness of breath.  The only thing I’ve noticed is more pain and the lack of eating.  I’d have never known.  

So this is much more dire than kidney failure.  Without knowing what kind of mass it is, we don’t know how aggressive it is.  It could be weeks, it could be months – but this mass will choke out his lungs and heart.  She talked to me about the options.  She made clear the emphasize that we needed to consider “to what end.”  She could send me to a veterinary oncologist who could do a soft tissue biopsy and find out what kind of cancer or growth it is.  Then we could possibly treat it with radiation or chemo.  But to what end?  He’ll be 17 next month.  He’s already outlived his kidney diagnosis.  And he absolutely HATES the vet.  Jack does not want to leave the house.  It pains me to take him to the vet at all.  He’s an old man cat.  He doesn’t need that stress.  And a surgery at another vet just to diagnose?  And for what?  Another month or two with him?  Weeks of cancer treatments and vet visits?  A life in a cone to keep him from opening his wounds? 

No. 

I just watched my sister take her senior dog to another state for cancer treatment.  Only to have to put her down a week later.  And the dog suffered because she wouldn’t let her go.  I won’t do that to Jack. 

I explained to the vet that money was not the issue.  Jack is my everything.  I cried.  He’s my little familiar.  My fuzzy soul mate.  But what would she do with her own cat?  Would she pursue it to no end?  No.  I will not do anything invasive.  I want him to have the best quality of life with what he has left.  So we decided on hospice – palliative care.  We’ll treat his pain and try to get him eating.  In 3 weeks we’ll check him out again and do a quality of life assessment.  And when the time comes, I will have someone come to the house.  I don’t want his final moments to be terror at the vets office.  We’ll have cake icing and oreo cream and Arbys sandwiches and he’ll fall asleep at home with me. So we decided on ramped up pain medication via the monthly shot.  We’ll do a appetite stimulant that gets rubbed in his cute little ear.  And potassium as his levels were low and it might put a little more pep in his step.  I’m pleased to say that when we got home he went to his food bowl and took a bite.  Not much, but progress!  He didn’t even notice that I gave him his appetite stimulant as I love petting his fuzzy little ears.  I put his potassium gel in a butter cup and he slowly lapped it up.  That cat loves cream.  Throughout the evening he ate more and more.  I felt terrible that it must have been the pain that was causing him not to eat.  As the shot took effect, he was much happier to nom on his leftover breakfast. This morning I can happily say that he cleaned his dinner plate for the first time in weeks!  And I told him what a good boy he was via some ear rubs with a little appetite stimulant snuck in.

Shout out to Jack

A few years ago (maybe 3?) Jack had an abscessed wound. It had to be left open to heal from the inside out. Because of this, Mr C didn’t want him in the bedroom leaving puss and such where ever he sat. Well, I’m not gonna leave my precious hanging, so I spent a month sleeping on the couch with him so he wouldn’t be alone at night. He’s my special, I’m not gonna leave him – especially when he was in pain.

These past two and a half weeks, I’ve been sleeping in a recliner in the living room. And this wonderful bastard has spent almost all of these nights and days sleeping in my lap in the recliner.

Sure he takes breaks when he wants to go sit in a sun ray and heat up in the afternoon. But come night time, he’s back in my lap. He doesn’t usually sleep with Mr C and I at night in the bedroom. But while I’ve been down here recovering, he’s been with me almost every single night. He’s a damn lava rock of heat, but I don’t care. I love him.

I adore this fucking cat. Thanks for taking care of me, Jack.

Some Things 2/19

1) Chicken bologna has 4 carbs per slice. Beef bologna has less than 1 carb per slice. What the fuck are they putting in that chicken bologna?

2) Jack had his vet visit for vaccinations and kidney check up on Friday. They took him back to get blood and returned with one tech holding him and another scrunching his neck while he growled like a feral. “I’ll take that. Sorry.” LOL Then they found a heart murmur. Booo. So they wanted to get a blood pressure. The vet wanted them to take him back and the poor tech was like, can we do it in here? He’s calm with his mother. Again, sorry yall. So I held him while they did everything else. His blood pressure was fine. His kidney levels are, as expected, still stage 3 failure but have improved by like .01. And he hasn’t lost any weight. So good on that front!

Unfortunately she said cats don’t usually show signs of heart trouble. And the sign of a heart murmur is usually just finding them suddenly dead. Well, can’t fault them for holding back. So thats nice. Now he has kidney failure and a heart problem. Nothing to be done for the heart problem since his blood pressure was fine. Oh and they are transitioning him from the kidney pills to a power you mix in his food. Nice! He still has the liquid to take, but now we dont have to wrestle with pills twice a day. Which will be great when I’m recovering from surgery…

3) I had my pre-op on Friday! Breasts are paid for and scheduled for march 15th. I’m having the side and back fat removed and a lift with implants. They’re also gonna do a revision to my tummy tuck to get more skin now that my swelling has gone down so much. Yay! I’m more excited since I got to REALLY sit down and talk about size with the nurse. They’re gonna order multiple implants (high profile, smooth silicone gummy implants). I’m asking to be around a DD but not bigger as I don’t want shopping for bras to be difficult. She assured me they’ll try different sizes and the whole team of nurses and the professional plastic surgeon will all weigh in on what looks best. So I feel more relaxed about it.

She also gave me one of their bras (you have to buy your own but they had a few) to show me what to get. I thought my current zip fronts were fine but they’re not because they’re flattering and push your boobs together. Apparently we don’t want that. We want the implants exactly where the doctor put them. So the bra she gave me has absolutely no support. Why ever wear it? So I ordered two more of them so I’ll have 3 total.

I’m gonna have drain(s?) again. UGH.

4) Jack wasn’t the only one getting vaccinations Friday. I got my Covid booster shot. Woot!

Some Things 12/17

1) My poor sweet kitty, Jack, has a cold. Yesterday, bless him, he was a mess. Sneezing and mouth breathing with watery eyes. K was going to help me take him to the vet today but he’s doing much better. He woke up when I did and went straight to his food bowl. He ate a good bit and meowed (you can tell he sounds congested) and harassed me and purred for pets. So he’s feeling much better. I’m so glad.

3) I hear Mr C whistling the Top Gun theme song. I guess Christmas music is getting old. At least he’s happy. He only whistles when he’s happy.

2) My surgery recovery is well. I had two breakdowns yesterday. One, the physical. I noticed leakage from my tummy tuck incision. Oh no. I freaked out. I sent pictures. I talked to the doctor. It’s dead skin and a popped stitch. It might turn into a gross wound that takes a while to heal. But it’s normal. Just put some ointment and a bandage on it. EWWW. Dammit.

The second breakdown was mental. Combine me worried about my precious being sick with a OPEN WOUND – Panic. I had a panic attack. I laid down for bed (on the couch) at 7:30 pm. I was so upset with myself. “What have I done!?” And freaking out — I did everything right! Tons of protein, being careful, watched all the videos, got all the supplies, followed all the directions — why me boo hoo.

A Cat and His Harness.

As you know, my precious cat has kidney disease. I’m losing my beloved little familiar. So now he has a special diet, lots of medicine, and regular vet checkups. However my amazing cat does not like his expensive fancy cat carrier. He never has. He pretty much just screams the whole time he’s in there. If you recall: my cat talks, screams, and wails a lot. It’s his thing. He was named Screamer before I adopted him. Hes got a good set of pipes on him. He has songs he needs to express. The vet is 20 minutes away. Add in the vet time and 20 minutes for the return and both of us are at the end of our perspective ropes. It’s such a stressful experience for both of us! So I decided to try something new.

I decided to go sans carrier. I decided to get him a harness and leash. Sure, I took the carrier with my just in case, but I figured maybe it could at least ease the stress on me.

I did not expect him to take this well. However, since he’s getting older and on all that pain medicine, he’s more chill than ever. So a few hours before the vet, I harnessed the cat. He had to hold his front legs further apart, but he didn’t really act too bothered by it. In fact, he was kinda adorable in it. So adorable that I added a bow tie and took a picture. Oh don’t worry, I didn’t make him wear the bow tie to the vet.

I dare say it went well. It turned the whole thing into more of an adventure than a torture session. He was freakishly alert while driving in the car. He insisted on sitting in my lap and observing everything through the window. He didn’t whine a bit. It was just pure curiosity. It was actually kinda fun driving with my cat. And it didn’t stress him out at all! Score!

Then we got to the vet. Since covid, you can’t wait inside with your pet. You wait in your car and they call you when they’re ready and tell you what room to take your pet to. So there was no passing other animals to worry about. I just carried him in straight to room 3. It was great. The only downside, I think, was for him. He didn’t have a hole to crawl into after the mean lady took his blood. He had to settle for sitting under the bench I was sitting on. Then he eventually progressed to my lap where he proceeded to hide his face in my arm when the mean lady returned. So he didn’t have that protective factor while in the office.

Checking out was simple enough. I just held onto his leash while he sniffed the floor. Then I carried him out to the car. He was much less thrilled on our way home. He was much more subdued and a little pissy about it. BUT — there was no wailing. He just sat in the passenger seat and stewed over what a horrible person I am. He could have sat in his carrier which was in the floor board, but he chose the passenger seat. So success again!

He’s a harness cat now. I will still continue to take his carrier along as a backup, but this leash thing is solid. I was so much less stressed out by the whole ordeal. I think it went great. I’d love to take him out on the leash, but I don’t want him to start begging to go outside all the time. But yeah. I recommend using a leash instead of a cat carrier. It’s great.

Your pet is not your “baby”

OK yall, we gotta stop with this calling your pet your baby shit. I know im gonna get a ton of flack for this because literally everyone I know calls their pets their babies. Hey, my dad calls his dog my sister. He likes the dog better though, and thats why he’s a bastard.

I know, your pet is your family. You might even, like my father, openly admit you like the pet better than your children. It happens. I don’t want a kid. Have yall met my precious J? He’s my soul creature, my witchy familiar, maybe even my soul mate, but he’s not my baby. He’s a piece of me and will ALWAYS be a piece of me. He’s a splinter of my soul in cat form. I get it.

But I just got a paragraph into a Facebook post about a friend of a friends baby dying and was terribly upset for everyone involved, only to realize, like two paragraphs in, that it was a dog. THERE IS A DIFFERENCE. I thought you were mourning a human child who had been in an auto accident that another human driver was going to have on his conscious for the rest of his life. I repeat: THERE IS A DIFFERENCE.

Some Things 1/15

1) I’m trying to get stuff for the funeral organized. We need to pick a photo for the main mom photo. But my sisters are still too distraught to look at photos. Sister I was talking to said she didn’t even leave her room yesterday. She just ate some cottage cheese she had in the fridge down there. Okay, thats not healthy.

Also, I can’t shut down. I have a job and a mortgage and a husband and a cat I had to take the the vet today. I know she’s fucked up and grieving but I kinda want to smack her. Get off your damn ass.

2) Took the cat the vet today. The good news is, all of his levels have improved! I think the vet was very impressed that I followed directions. She basically treated me like I was a good dog. I’m cool with that. Go me!

Problem is he’s still in kidney failure. I got the copies of his labs so I could look stuff up. He’s right at the bottom levels (good end) of stage 3 failure. Ugh. So I don’t think he’s going to get off the fluids and stuff. He has an average life expectancy of 2 years at this point. Let’s make ’em good.

After the bath, he was licking himself so much he had a hair ball… in the new heated cat bed. He was obsessed with it and now he wont go near it. Fuck. It’s like Mr C and grape juice. He’s traumatized now.

3) Someone was using “my” bathroom stall at work and it was surprisingly weird. There is like one bathroom per floor where I work with 6 stalls. I always use the same stall. Row 2, Stall A. It’s a good one. Row 1 Stall B runs forever. 1 A flushes too much (sensor calibration issues). I can’t use a handicapped stall so I stick with my safe 2 A. But the other day someone was in there! I had to use one of the handicapped stalls.

Am I the only one who always uses the same stall?

Some Things 1/10

1) K came through with the most adorable, soft, crocheted blanket for my familiar. It’s now adding more padding and a shit ton more style to his heated cat bed. What a good friend. It’s such a sweet comforting gesture when I could REALLY use it. I wish I could show mom. I love you, K!

Fuzzy

2) I saw a Lysol commercial today. We’re still smack in the middle of Covid (for future reference). Has ANYONE seen a bottle of Lysol since February last year? Why are they spending money on advertising? It’s not an old commercial either – it said it kills the Covid virus in the commercial. We fucking KNOW, Lysol. Put your money into getting that shit on the shelves. You think you need to advertise your product right now? It’s aerosol gold.

Wait. Let me check something.

There is literally an 8 pack on ebay for $129.99 plus $19.99 shipping right now. People are scalping Lysol. And they’re advertising.

3) I’m using wool dryer balls now. How hippie is that? We finally ran out of dryer sheets and these things are supposed to last forever without all the chemicals. Do they really prevent static? We shall see… free-trade, ethically sourced-from Nepal, hand-felted by little old hippie ladies, happy sheep dryer balls. We shall see.

My Spirit Animal is Slowly Dying

So when mom died I freaked out.  Oh shit, no one else is dying.  I told Mr C I was taking the cat to the vet.  He’s only ever been to the vet for emergencies.  Which hey, I grew up poor, animals didn’t go to the vet.  Hell, he’s already been to the vet more in his short life than I’ve been to the dentist.  But I have money now so I’m taking the cat to the vet. 

I had them do everything.  Full work up.  Six hundred dollars of work up.  This cat is my soul.  I got him when I was agoraphobic in college and he’s all I had.  We’ve come a long way.  I’m married, I graduated college, and even more importantly: I’m medicated now.  But this cat is still my soul outside of my body.  No one fucks with my cat.  No one.  When he had an abscessed open wound and Mr C wouldn’t let him sleep on our bed, I slept on the couch for two months.  Not because I was mad at Mr C.  No, but I’m not shutting my soul away from me because he might get blood on the bed.  Especially when he’s in pain!  I’m sleeping with the cat.  Goodnight. 

Anyway, so his first ever vet checkup – at the grand old age of 15.  He has mild renal failure and arthritis.  My poor familiar!  He’s never more than 10 feet from me when I’m home and now he’s gonna die?  I just assumed he was immortal.  Aren’t witches familiars immortal?  I didn’t see myself living another 15 years when I got him, this shit just wasn’t considered. 

Oh… what if Satan showed up and offered me my cats life for my soul?  That’d be fucked up.

Anyway.  Now he takes medicine twice a day and I have to give him fluids through an IV under his skin twice a week.  Poor little guy.  I gave him fluids for the first time today.  They went all lopsided and now he has like 200ccs of liquid on one side.  Sorry buddy.  That can’t be comfortable.  With that and the pain meds for your arthritis, maybe you should just lay down. 

Well.  I didn’t get to tell mom about any of this.  So now I feel better.  It’s out there.  I did order him a heated cat bed.  I got out the heated blanket in the meantime.  He likes it very much.  And I ordered him a staircase to get up on the bed.  And he has to switch to a new diet so I ordered three different kinds of kidney food so he can pick his favorite.  He has options.  Is there anything else I can get you?  Beer?  More stinky wet food? Blood sacrifice?  TELL ME WHAT YOU NEED.