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wStuff You Don't Wanna Know But Are Reading Anyway |
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I dunno how you found this, but alas, here you are. So enjoy the frightening fruits of my troubled little brain.
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wThursday, November 17, 2011 |
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Ginger is gone. I stayed close to her as much as I could these past two weeks, and she breathed her last breath while I was in the shower. Yep... a feline to the very end.
Obviously (or maybe not... I keep forgetting the internet can't read my mind... yet), I chose not to put her through surgery. Everyone around me from random cat-owned internet strangers to family to professionals figured it was far too risky for a cat of 16, and especially in her weakened state after weeks of barely eating. Besides, I knew when the deadline day the vet had given us for her medications passed that there was no saving her. And rather than let her die under anesthesia or during a painful recovery in a vet office cage surrounded by cold metal and strange people and noisy animals, I wanted her to live out her days in her home, surrounded by her family. I like to think she appreciated it - right up until last night, every time I went to check on her and try to offer her water (which she stopped drinking two days ago), she always tried her hardest to look at me and purr.
She remained in the same spot unable to get up anymore since sometime this morning, couldn't lift her head to look at me anymore since sometime this afternoon, and she finally succumbed around 11pm. I was in the shower, but at least my parents were beside her... It kills me that there was nothing I could do for her, especially knowing that everything else about her was perfectly healthy and she could have easily lived a few more years... but ever since she reached the point where she'd vomit up everything she tried to eat, all I've wanted was for her to not suffer anymore. After all these long, horrible weeks spent watching her deteriorate, that, at least, is one small relief.
I suppose I'll continue to cry my eyes out for another day or two and then marathon on some Whose Line videos on Youtube or something until I can smile again and move on.
Rest in peace, my little booger. I'm sorry I couldn't do any more to help. Life will never be the same without you.
comment! (0)
dragged from Becky's stream of consciousness at 11/17/2011 12:17:00 AM
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wFriday, November 04, 2011 |
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feeling: depressed
listening to: nothing
So once again I disappear from the majority of the internet for a few months... actually I think this is the longest I've gone without updating my blog or LJ since I first started them in 2001 and 2004, respectively. Thought maybe posting here might finally vent out some of the stress and angst that's been going on for a couple weeks and hit a record high (low?) point today.
Remember my cat Ginger? My closest and truest and fattest little buddy who has the same birthday as me and has stuck with me for 16 years?
Well, somewhere between the end of September and the beginning of October, I discovered that I could just slightly feel her spine when petting her. Anyone who's seen her or the pictures I've splattered all around the net should recall that she was always a fat cat. Heck, she was born fat. Biggest in her litter, the boss of her three siblings... and the only one to find a permanent home and survive more than a few years. Anyway, yeah, fat. Hence my slight concern when I felt her spine that day. But she didn't really look any different and nothing in her behavior had changed... except being a little more picky about her food, possibly... so I just chalked it all up to the fact that she'd just turned 16 and was starting to slow down a bit as 80-something-in-human-years cats do.
But then over the next couple weeks, she ate less and less of her beloved senior citizen formula kibble, and when she did it looked like she was having trouble crunching it small enough to swallow, and would get frustrated and turn her back on it. Finally, just a couple weeks ago, she practically gave up altogether and was down to eating just a few bites a day. Consequently she grew weaker and stopped following everyone around whining for food and attention, and even stopped coming upstairs to my room, which was always her favorite hangout (and among her favorite activities was climbing all over me and licking my face to wake me up every morning). I thought maybe her teeth were just worn out with her age, and thought to try switching her to a canned food... of which she wolfed down half a can on the first offering and came back looking for more, which led me to believe this might turn her around. That was just Wednesday of last week.
Well, the next day, throughout the entire day, she didn't even finish half of what was left in that can... and from then on she ate less and less by the day. Out of the two cans we started with last Wednesday, as of this point 8 days later, Thursday night, she hasn't even finished the second can... and a lot of what we've offered her just dried up and went to waste. Seemed she wasn't really eating it; she was just licking the wet runny parts out of it, and leaving the drier chunky bits behind. So much for that.
By the end of the week she was literally skin and bones, and was so weak she couldn't walk straight and could barely even stand without wobbling, so I caved in and brought up the dreaded V-word. The rest of the family thought this was ridiculous and insisted that she was just old and losing her appetite... but I knew it was all just too sudden and too drastic to be simple aging, when she's always been the picture of good health (fat, but good) up to just a matter of weeks ago.
However, by then it was Friday and too late to call any vet offices... and of course, like every weekend, my nephew was here from Friday through Sunday and the world revolves around him when he's here. And of course, Ginger doesn't like him since he's too noisy and rough and thinks she's just a toy and thinks it's fun to scare her and pick on her, etc etc... so yeah, one long, stressful weekend later...
On Monday, however, she actually seemed a little more active, occasionally walking around the house talking to us and even wanting to go outside, and staying there for a few hours. Still didn't eat much, but we thought since she seemed to have some strength back, some appetite might be close behind... so we put off the vet call.
Tuesday, again, she went outside for a bit and was a little more active, but still no positive changes in her eating... so we made a vet appointment for Wednesday afternoon. But when the day came, she went outside again... and didn't come back by the time of her appointment. Mom and I searched and called and waited and waited, but no sign of her... so we had to reschedule the appointment and I spent the day worrying that she was stuck somewhere too weak to get back home. The sun started to set and still no sign of her... so both my parents and I went out looking again, combed every inch of the property and beyond for about an hour, when it got too dark to search. So I came back in and was so worried and depressed I couldn't get anything done for hours. When I went downstairs for one last drink refill around 10:30pm to see her at the door waiting eagerly to come in, I was so relieved I could've cried. She even went straight to her food dish and ate more than I'd seen her eat in one sitting (in one day, even) for over a week. Her old dry kibbles, no less.
Was feeling slightly better about things when I woke up today (Thursday), the day of her rescheduled appointment. She was still weak and not eating though, so we kept to the schedule and Mom came with me to bring her to the vet. Her first time seeing one (first time in the carrier as well) since she was spayed and vaccinated as a kitten. Hated to stress her like that in her weakened state... but if there might be some simple issue causing it, like a broken tooth or weakening kidney, I wanted to know and fix it instead of just letting her waste away over something potentially treatable.
So we got her to the vet, and within about 30 seconds of taking her out of the carrier, he found the problem.
A big mass in her abdomen. Somewhere between her stomach and large intestine.
He took an X-ray to confirm, but couldn't conclude what it actually was beyond three theories: a hairball, backed up fecal matter, or at worst, a tumor. So he gave her an appetite stimulant, an anti-inflammatory, and a laxative/lubricant, and sent us home with directions to keep them up for a few days and see if she'd pass the thing on her own, and call him early next week.
So we got her home, got her calmed down (she was very quiet and still through the whole thing, only meowed or growled a few times, but I'm pretty sure she was frozen with fear and her heart was running a mile a minute), and just... waited. A few hours later she started with this constant, pitiful, distressed crying, and walking around all weak and hunched over and stepping tenderly and looking just like I'd imagine a cat with a nasty tummyache would look. Of course, the one time in my life I ever had to take a laxative, I immediately felt like I was going to puke too, so I couldn't blame her... but there was nothing I could do... she kept going into the kitchen and looking for food, but no matter what we gave her she'd only take a few licks and walk away again... then come back a minute later only to repeat the process... all the while looking just absolutely pitiful. Even her voice sounded different for the rest of the night, these weak, scratchy, painful-sounding, heart-stabbing little meows... constantly... constantly...
ugh... *takes a cry break*
You know, many years ago, I had a friend whose family had a cat that was like, 20 or 21 years old or something. Peewee, her name was. And every time I saw that cat, my heart just broke at how pitiful and decrepit she looked... all skin and bones, fur falling out, walking low to the ground and with wobbly baby steps when she walked at all, voice all weak and scratchy and barely audible.
With the exception of the fur loss, that is what Ginger has looked like all evening since she came home from the vet.
She's 16. Yeah, that's old, but not decrepit-old. Barely a month ago she was still eating and active and pudgy and annoying and still my Ginger. She didn't even look this bad in the morning before her vet visit. I don't know if it's just the meds... the laxative was supposed to be super-gentle and not much different from a daily anti-hairball lubricant, and the appetite stimulant should've made her want to eat more, not less (though she's been constantly looking for food, just not eating more than a couple licks at a time before giving up)... she's not so old that she should be wasting away like this all in the course of about a month.
Even if it's just a tummyache from the meds... I can't stand seeing her like this. It's breaking my heart and I've been fighting tears for all I'm worth ever since we took her to the vet. My fat annoying little shadow isn't supposed to look like this. Not until she's 20-something years old and actually showing normal signs of aging. Seriously, her eyesight is perfect, her hearing is perfect, her heart and lungs are strong, her skin and fur look gorgeous, her teeth are fine, her urine and stool have been normal (except reduced lately with less food going through her)... she should have had a good few years left. I'm having trouble believing that a simple hairball or backed-up stool could reduce her to this. For one thing, in my (limited) understanding, when a foreign object like that blocks the digestive tract, there's usually vomiting or bleeding or some other unwholesome messy symptom involved. A slow-growing tumor seems less likely to do that. But then, a slow-growing tumor also doesn't seem as likely to cause this much degeneration in such a short time.
But isn't that just how it goes? An animal that's been sickly all its life can live on and on and on before quietly and peacefully succumbing to old age complications, while the healthiest animal in the world just starts to get "old" and then suddenly, WHAM - ends up with the least likely of anomalies leading to the most painful and agonizing death. It was the same with all the bettas I had - the ones that were strong and healthy and robust and never got sick all their lives, died in prolonged and untreatable pain from horrible things like Pixel with her random tumor and Magnus with his dropsy.
I know nothing is conclusive yet and it's still early in Ginger's case... but honestly... I'm not optimistic. For her sake I want to be, but something tells me no laxative is going to push that mass out of her. Of course I'll spend the rest of her life praying that it will until something tells me with 100% certainty otherwise, but I just... can't see this reversing itself. I also don't want to keep forcing these drugs down her throat if they're going to make her so miserable all the time. Whether it's mostly the meds or not, it's already like she's not even the same cat anymore. She doesn't look, sound, or act anything like my Ginger should. The only time she feels like the same old Ginger is when I'm holding her and she relaxes in my arms purring... but even then it's not the same since she's so much quieter, limper, and much, much lighter.
And if it is a tumor, from the shape it seems most likely to be benign and thus removable, but between the anesthesia and the pain and stress of recovery, operating on a 16 year old cat is risky at best. I could try to prolong her life by a couple years only to end up stressing her enough to shorten it by the same amount. Vets always do all kinds of tests to determine whether all a cat's organs are in good enough shape to handle an operation... but as weak as Ginger has been these past few weeks, I just don't know if she's strong enough to take it.
So, assuming this is a tumor... and my inherently pessimistic gut tells me it is... this is probably the end of the line for my baby. It'll just be a matter of keeping her as comfortable as possible until she just can't keep going any longer. I wonder if she'll even make it another year...
Of course, I fully intend to stay close to her as much as possible and give her all the help I possibly can... and just hope and pray that the low odds of that stupid mass being just a hairball end up miraculously winning out.
...I just know I won't be getting any sleep tonight. Just like pretty much every night for the past two weeks. I can't help it... she's been my closest friend since I was 13. At one point or two she was my only real friend. And now it's like she's not even the same cat and she looks so miserable and I just feel so powerless...
...Ok, time to quit. Vision is getting too wet and blurry to see the screen anymore. Sorry for whining forever.
comment! (1)
dragged from Becky's stream of consciousness at 11/04/2011 01:34:00 AM
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