Runester

I just got home and received the message from the vet. When they opened her up, the cancer had eaten away at her shoulder muscle and the tumors ‘were everywhere.’ So, the vet put her to sleep on the operating table.

I’ve known this could happen from the first time I took her in and learned what kind of cancer she had. Then, when it came back … I knew this day was inevitable. Each time I hoped, maybe this time they’ll get it all and she’ll be ok.

The decision today was to, hopefully give her some more time … more weeks … more months. I still held out a little hope …

Anyway, enough about her death. Here’s something about her life.

When I first moved out of my parents house and moved into an apartment, I found the quiet disconcerting and the loneliness depressing. My whole life had been in a house with people and animals, noise and activity. So, I decided to adopt a cat and make my apartment a little more like ‘home’.

When I first went to the Humane Society, I fell in love with three little gray kittens … but there was a problem with my landlord and that day was a disappointment. By the time I resolved that and returned, the three kittens had been placed. I had to choose another … and by far, the gentlest, most affectionate was a mature female named “mama” with a luxurious white coat.
I adopted her and renamed her “Snow” but had to wait for her to get her vaccines and be spayed. When I brought her home she was sick from the anesthesia and spent days laying on my pillow recovering.

Ever since then, and right through to this morning when she crawled up into bed with me to welcome the new day and get a little attention - she has been a great companion, a great comfort, a lot of fun, and a joy in my life.

Snow, I will miss you. I hope you had a good life for a cat, and I pray I was worthy of your unconditional love and affection.

Good bye.

This morning I took snow to the vet. She hadn’t been in for about four weeks now. Her tumors have grown back, bigger then before, and in a new location, on her left side. Also, caused by the rampant tumor growth, fluid is filling the tissue just below her skin along her forward spine. It looks like a growth, but feeling it, demonstrates that it’s filled with fluid.

I’ve been watching her behavior as best I can. She does not seem to be in any serious discomfort, but I may not be able to tell. She still eats and drinks and uses her litter box. She still climbs the stairs at night to visit me in bed before I go to sleep - so I don’t think the tumors have damaged her internal organs.

The Vet looked her over and pretty much gave me three options. I could have her put to sleep today. Or, I could taker her home without further surgery … but he predicts that within a month her tumors will erupt through her skin and cause a septic mess. Or, I can admit her for yet another surgery. He strongly advised … if I didn’t want to put her down then I should agree to the surgery, letting her die at home with an erupting tumor and an infection would be miserable.

So, I admitted her for her fourth (4th) surgery. This time, he is going to remove the skin above the tumors as well as, as much tissue around them as possible. He also had me sign a waiver that allows them to put her to sleep should the tumors be inoperable (fixed to her bones) or if there is not enough skin to seal over the incision, or if the spread is found to be more malign and having infiltrated her abdomen.

I’ll get the update tomorrow.

This whole matter is upsetting. She’s been a good pet, a good companion, for me for years now. I understand that everything living must die … but having to make these kinds of decisions are excrutiating. Who am I to rob her of her last month of life … each day is precious  and what is a month to a cat? A year of experience, maybe? But, how can I let her suffer in her disease? And, there are practical considerations as well; each surgery costs me over $300, I’ve already spent over $1,000 and this one will cost me more still. I do not have endless financial resources, and the return is poor as each time the tumors come back as bad or worse then before.

The best I can hope for is that maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to get all of the cancerous tissue this time and she can live the rest of her life in relative health for whatever time she has left. Or, that she is quietly put to sleep during the surgery and never has to wake up to another day in a body that has betrayed her.