Numbers - I've never particularly cared for numbers. But, my sister on the other hand has made numbers her career.
Numbers can signify how much weight you need to loose, what your various lab values in your bloodwork are, your birthday, how old you are, how many siblings you have, your number of friends on Facebook, miles per gallon your car gets or how many miles you've traveled, and how many frequent flyer miles you get for those you actually traveled. Numbers show your bank balance or lack thereof or even how much sugar to put in cookie batter. You get the idea, numbers are everywhere. Numbers can mean so many things.
Right now, my world is centered around numbers. As in, number of days. The type of cancer Willy has gives 20 - 80 days as the average survival rate after detection of tumor.
Our clock started on February 13, 2010. That is the first time that we have evidence that there was a tumor. It was over two months before we were able to put a name to the tumor, but detection of the tumor clock started on 2/13/10.
I went to the calendar that hangs by the back door, and I flipped back to Feb 13th and I started numbering. Today I wrote his number on today's date.
He's eating, he's sleeping, cat-napping, playing, being social, affectionate. He spent part of the morning torturing another poor lizard who ventured into Willy's territory. I was sitting on the sofa and Willy was in my lap when all of the sudden, he was off like he was shot out of a cannon, across the room, through the door, onto the porch, and in a matter of seconds he wandered back into the living room with his prize. I have to confess that I got out my camera and shot some video of the events following the capture. I felt sorry for the lizard, I truly did, but for me, it was the joy of seeing my little boy active, feeling good, enjoying his life. I can rewind and watch it as many times as I want to.
It's the times like this that I am glad that I opted for not giving him chemo. I would not want him lying sick for days at a time, only to start feeling better and then us starting the cycle all over again with another dose of chemical in an IV.
The increasing number on the calendar everyday lends to the feeling that I, that we, made the right decision.
I have added ES Clear to his daily regimen. It's a combination of several herbs and it's made for cats with cancer. I've read testimonials singing its praises. I have to say, I was a little hesitant at first, especially when he threw up 3 different times after I started it. But, I kept at it because he'd really just upchucked hair balls. It is supposed to help rid the body of toxins, and I guess all that hair hanging around can't be a good thing.
So, back to numbers - he'd gained a tad bit of weight when I took him in for a quick check earlier in the week, all of the numbers on his last bloodwork looked good, and today, well, today - we made it to day 106. Willy has already beaten the odds, and I can't help but feel good about that.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Unintended joy
For Christmas, Chris got me a porch swing. He installed it on the back porch, the screened in porch. I loved it and looked so forward to the weather getting warm enough so I could enjoy the swing.
Finally, that day arrived and very soon, Willy and I started spending part of the evening on the swing together while Chris sat in his chair on the other end of the porch, and we talked, and enjoyed each other's company.
The unintended joy has been watching Willy enjoy the swing by himself, especially since he's been sick. More often than not, that's where he is. I'll go out there and give him a push. I stand in the house and look out the window, just to watch him in the swing. It warms my heart, and gives me joy. I know Chris got it for me to enjoy, but I don't think he realized that it would bring me so much joy in more than one way. Thank you Chris.
Finally, that day arrived and very soon, Willy and I started spending part of the evening on the swing together while Chris sat in his chair on the other end of the porch, and we talked, and enjoyed each other's company.
The unintended joy has been watching Willy enjoy the swing by himself, especially since he's been sick. More often than not, that's where he is. I'll go out there and give him a push. I stand in the house and look out the window, just to watch him in the swing. It warms my heart, and gives me joy. I know Chris got it for me to enjoy, but I don't think he realized that it would bring me so much joy in more than one way. Thank you Chris.
Friday, May 21, 2010
What's behind door #1?
Have you ever been going somewhere, and just looked at the houses, and wonder about the people that live there? Wonder about the events that have happened in that house, in their lives? The happiness, the fun, the laughter and the tears? The sadness, the despair that can be masked behind a manicured lawn and a picket fence?
I always tend to lean to the happy, because that is my basic nature.
Right now, I'm so sad because of Willy's situation, that now, I look at the houses and wonder most about the sadness that the occupants have had to deal with. I know that my mood is temporary. I know I'll get my feet back under me.
I always tend to lean to the happy, because that is my basic nature.
Right now, I'm so sad because of Willy's situation, that now, I look at the houses and wonder most about the sadness that the occupants have had to deal with. I know that my mood is temporary. I know I'll get my feet back under me.
Monday, May 17, 2010
The Cat Chronicles (reads more like a novel than a blog post)
I realize that some of you reading my blog may wonder at my attachment to my cat Willy. Those of you who are cat people know.
We (my ex and I) went to the Animal Rescue a few weeks prior to getting Willy because the cat ex's father gave us had disappeared due to a series of unfortunate events. We were so sad that Woody was gone. Woody was solid gray, a beautiful indoor/outdoor cat.
At the Animal Rescue, we found a solid gray female cat who I fell in love with. We'd gone to get one cat, but ex saw a Manx named Max that he just had to have. So, we left with two cats. Max had been a resident of the AR for 5 months. The female cat who we named Milly had just arrived and had been spayed the day before.
One week after bringing Max and Milly home, Max got sick. Off to the vet we go. One week later, he is sick again. Three weeks to the day we brought him home, he is very sick. He was diagnosed with feline leukemia. He had been tested at AR and tested negative, but he must have been tested in the window between being infected and it showing up in his blood work. We had to have him put to sleep on the 3rd trip to the vet, and several hundred dollars spent.
Of course, the fact that he tested positive for feline leukemia put the AR into a panic, because every cat who'd been there for the 5 months he was a resident had been exposed - including Milly obviously. They assumed the stress of changing environments was what cause Max to come out of remission (not sure remission is the right word, but you get the idea). We waited anxiously, but Milly never got sick.
AR felt bad that we'd lost our cat and not only paid the adoption fee for Max, but had spent those several (read $300) dollars at the vet, they told us we could have our pick of kittens at no cost to us. These kittens were in the overflow shelter and had never been exposed to Max. So, ex went out to choose his kitten, since Max was really his cat.
He brought home an adorable solid gray cat (see the theme here?) who could fit in the palms of our hands. He was adorable. He had an elongated face and big ears, he looked like a cross between an alien and Yoda. I fell in love the minute I saw him. He grew up to be a very handsome boy.
For whatever reason, Milly and our new kitten named Willy to rhyme (cheesy I know), chose their "person". Quite contrary to what we had decided, Milly chose ex, and Willy chose me.
Right from the start, he started sleeping on top of me, and 12 years later, he still does it. He was always social, LOVED playing and would leap 3 feet in the air and do a flip at the same time while trying to capture that feather on the end of a stick. Milly, well, she was affectionate too, but only on her terms. She wanted to be near you more often than not, but if she decided she wanted in your lap - she was insistent until you accommodated her.
Two years after bringing Willy and Milly into our home, I happened to be looking at the AR website. I don't know why I was, but I saw the cutest kittens named Ping and Pong. They were black and white, brother and sister. I called ex to look at them. For me, the looking was just the "awww" factor. Ex must have had a different read. The next day, he called me from AR and wanted me to come see Ping and Pong. I protested, but he was adamant that I come down. So, I did. Guess who we made arrangements to adopt and bring home a few days later after the spaying and neutering?
Oh, and here's the point where I should mention that along the same time as the "awww" turned into adoption, ex had come upon a cat in the middle of the road who'd been hit by a car. He took him to the vet. Un-named cat was a solid black cat. A few days later, on a Saturday morning in December of 2000. We brought Ping and Pong who we renamed Oreo and Cookie, and black cat home.
We kept black cat in the shop in the garage, he was injured, and we didn't want to have the new cat hissing and slapping that is associated with introducing new cats (this behavior can go on for weeks). We were able to doctor on black cat without having to worry about the other cats.
There was a lot of hissing and spitting and general unrest inside the house. Willy adapted the quickest. Like I said before, he was social. He got along well with Oreo and Cookie and was happy to have new playmates. Milly on the other hand was not (and still is not to this day) happy about the interlopers. She tolerated them, but that was all. There was a constant struggle between her and Oreo (the greedy piglet when it came to feeding time). Willy got along well with Milly too.
Eventually, black cat wormed his way inside, and Willy got along well with him too. I turned out to be allergic to black cat. Every time I held him, I broke out in hives. We had a cat friendly friend who agreed to take him. She named him Nicholas because he was found around Christmas time. He had a great life with her until a year or so ago when he got out and was killed by some animal bigger than he was.
Right from the start, I was obsessive about the cats not going outdoors. Cats are curious though, and every time that door would open, 3 or 4 cats would try to get out. You can imagine the difficulty, esp if you had something in your hands. Early on, I had protested to the smell of the litter box, and I asked if there was some way we could make an enclosure for them to go to in the garage to do their business. A little engineering and a well placed kitty cat door behind the washer and dryer and the cats were able to get to a cage for lack of a better word, that housed their litter box.
Ex decided to add a penthouse, then a cat walk to the other side of the garage, with a kitty cat loft. Then came the cat walk across the shop, and finally, a huge outside covered and enclosed space for them. It was referred to as the Taj Mahal. The cats loved it! They spent hours upon hours out there, running, playing, relaxing, napping. Sometimes it was quite a task to get them inside when you wanted to account for them all.
I developed a compulsion to SEE all cats before I left the house. To make sure none got out, therefore, unable to disappear. Willy was the most determined about getting to the outdoors. Luckily, he usually stopped at the first patch of grass he saw for a little snack and we could scoop him up and return him to the safe confines of the house.
Milly got out one time, and much to my horror, the redneck neighbor's vicious Rottweiler was loose. He took off after Milly, and I took off behind them. I didn't get very far, when just like a cartoon, here comes the Rotty with Milly chasing HIM!
One day, I came home after work, and couldn't find Willy. Ex had left the house after me. I went back and forth through the house, searching the Taj Mahal, and he just wasn't there. The only possible scenario was that he got past ex, who didn't notice. We lived on 5 acres of land, about 2.5 acres of it were wooded. All I could think of was that Rotty, or some other animal bigger than Willy hurting him (or worse). I made fliers, I walked the acreage, I called, I begged, I pleaded for my baby to come home. Friends came and helped me. I was distraught to say the least. I couldn't work, all I could think about was my baby boy alone, out in the big bad world.
Two days later, ex called to tell me a hungry Willy had shown back up and was in the garage when he got home. You only thought my obsession with seeing all of the kitties before leaving was bad before -- now it was a full blown, neurotic obsession.
There was the time Cookie began having seizures, and we found a black widow dead on the floor. We rushed her to the vet for a very expensive stay in ICU. The vet couldn't locate a bite site and was skeptical. We went back home and got the spider to show her. She eventually found the bite inside Cookie's mouth! Bad things reside in the big bad world outside of the safe indoors.
Mostly the cats were all 4 healthy, thankfully.
In 2005, ex and I separated and divorced. About 5 months later, we sold the house, which I'd been living in. I was moving closer to work which was an hour commute one way. I was having a hard time finding an apartment that would allow pets. I finally found a duplex, and the landlord agreed to let me bring one cat. There was never any question in my mind - it was Willy, hands down. Ex agreed to take the other 3. It broke my heart, I loved them, and to this day I miss them and get teary eyed when I think of them. Luckily ex and I remained friends, and for a while, I went to his house to visit them. He kept Willy for a few days while I went out of town.
On moving day, I finally let Willy out of the bathroom in the apartment, and only a few minutes after he was out of the bathroom where I'd kept him confined, someone opened the door and he bolted. We chased him and finally cornered him and brought him inside.
I hated living in that duplex, and soon started looking for a house. I felt so bad that Willy had previously had a Taj Mahal and now all he has was a spot in the window (which became his favorite location). One of my requirements for a house was a screened in porch. No screened in porch, and I wasn't even interested in looking at the house, unless there was a way one could be added. I had a few other things I *wanted*, but the porch was a deal-breaker.
One day while riding through a subdivision that we happened upon, we rounded a curve and I found my house, complete with screened in porch. Moving day couldn't get here fast enough.
Willy loves the porch. Chris put in a kitty cat door for him so he can come and go at will. He has taken over my swing as his personal spot (he does let me join him from time to time). He chases the lizards that wander onto the porch, and he wins most of the time - poor lizards. He watches the birds, the rabbits, the squirrels and the ducks.
Every time I leave the house, I have to find him, know where he is, kiss him on the head, and tell him to be a sweet boy and that Mama loves him. Call it obsessive compulsive, a ritual, neurotic behavior, whatever, I don't care, I'm fine with the label.
12 years of love - both given and received, and I'm so distraught about the cancer that has invaded his body. I was so busy looking out for the things in the big bad outside world, that the microscopic things took us all by surprise.
I am so thankful for all of the photos and the videos I have of Willy, I enjoy them now, and I will enjoy them always, just like I enjoy the photos of Milly, Oreo, Cookie, Woody and Nicholas. I suspect I will enjoy the ones of Willy the most, heck, I don't suspect, I know.
We (my ex and I) went to the Animal Rescue a few weeks prior to getting Willy because the cat ex's father gave us had disappeared due to a series of unfortunate events. We were so sad that Woody was gone. Woody was solid gray, a beautiful indoor/outdoor cat.
At the Animal Rescue, we found a solid gray female cat who I fell in love with. We'd gone to get one cat, but ex saw a Manx named Max that he just had to have. So, we left with two cats. Max had been a resident of the AR for 5 months. The female cat who we named Milly had just arrived and had been spayed the day before.
One week after bringing Max and Milly home, Max got sick. Off to the vet we go. One week later, he is sick again. Three weeks to the day we brought him home, he is very sick. He was diagnosed with feline leukemia. He had been tested at AR and tested negative, but he must have been tested in the window between being infected and it showing up in his blood work. We had to have him put to sleep on the 3rd trip to the vet, and several hundred dollars spent.
Of course, the fact that he tested positive for feline leukemia put the AR into a panic, because every cat who'd been there for the 5 months he was a resident had been exposed - including Milly obviously. They assumed the stress of changing environments was what cause Max to come out of remission (not sure remission is the right word, but you get the idea). We waited anxiously, but Milly never got sick.
AR felt bad that we'd lost our cat and not only paid the adoption fee for Max, but had spent those several (read $300) dollars at the vet, they told us we could have our pick of kittens at no cost to us. These kittens were in the overflow shelter and had never been exposed to Max. So, ex went out to choose his kitten, since Max was really his cat.
He brought home an adorable solid gray cat (see the theme here?) who could fit in the palms of our hands. He was adorable. He had an elongated face and big ears, he looked like a cross between an alien and Yoda. I fell in love the minute I saw him. He grew up to be a very handsome boy.
For whatever reason, Milly and our new kitten named Willy to rhyme (cheesy I know), chose their "person". Quite contrary to what we had decided, Milly chose ex, and Willy chose me.
Right from the start, he started sleeping on top of me, and 12 years later, he still does it. He was always social, LOVED playing and would leap 3 feet in the air and do a flip at the same time while trying to capture that feather on the end of a stick. Milly, well, she was affectionate too, but only on her terms. She wanted to be near you more often than not, but if she decided she wanted in your lap - she was insistent until you accommodated her.
Two years after bringing Willy and Milly into our home, I happened to be looking at the AR website. I don't know why I was, but I saw the cutest kittens named Ping and Pong. They were black and white, brother and sister. I called ex to look at them. For me, the looking was just the "awww" factor. Ex must have had a different read. The next day, he called me from AR and wanted me to come see Ping and Pong. I protested, but he was adamant that I come down. So, I did. Guess who we made arrangements to adopt and bring home a few days later after the spaying and neutering?
Oh, and here's the point where I should mention that along the same time as the "awww" turned into adoption, ex had come upon a cat in the middle of the road who'd been hit by a car. He took him to the vet. Un-named cat was a solid black cat. A few days later, on a Saturday morning in December of 2000. We brought Ping and Pong who we renamed Oreo and Cookie, and black cat home.
We kept black cat in the shop in the garage, he was injured, and we didn't want to have the new cat hissing and slapping that is associated with introducing new cats (this behavior can go on for weeks). We were able to doctor on black cat without having to worry about the other cats.
There was a lot of hissing and spitting and general unrest inside the house. Willy adapted the quickest. Like I said before, he was social. He got along well with Oreo and Cookie and was happy to have new playmates. Milly on the other hand was not (and still is not to this day) happy about the interlopers. She tolerated them, but that was all. There was a constant struggle between her and Oreo (the greedy piglet when it came to feeding time). Willy got along well with Milly too.
Eventually, black cat wormed his way inside, and Willy got along well with him too. I turned out to be allergic to black cat. Every time I held him, I broke out in hives. We had a cat friendly friend who agreed to take him. She named him Nicholas because he was found around Christmas time. He had a great life with her until a year or so ago when he got out and was killed by some animal bigger than he was.
Right from the start, I was obsessive about the cats not going outdoors. Cats are curious though, and every time that door would open, 3 or 4 cats would try to get out. You can imagine the difficulty, esp if you had something in your hands. Early on, I had protested to the smell of the litter box, and I asked if there was some way we could make an enclosure for them to go to in the garage to do their business. A little engineering and a well placed kitty cat door behind the washer and dryer and the cats were able to get to a cage for lack of a better word, that housed their litter box.
Ex decided to add a penthouse, then a cat walk to the other side of the garage, with a kitty cat loft. Then came the cat walk across the shop, and finally, a huge outside covered and enclosed space for them. It was referred to as the Taj Mahal. The cats loved it! They spent hours upon hours out there, running, playing, relaxing, napping. Sometimes it was quite a task to get them inside when you wanted to account for them all.
I developed a compulsion to SEE all cats before I left the house. To make sure none got out, therefore, unable to disappear. Willy was the most determined about getting to the outdoors. Luckily, he usually stopped at the first patch of grass he saw for a little snack and we could scoop him up and return him to the safe confines of the house.
Milly got out one time, and much to my horror, the redneck neighbor's vicious Rottweiler was loose. He took off after Milly, and I took off behind them. I didn't get very far, when just like a cartoon, here comes the Rotty with Milly chasing HIM!
One day, I came home after work, and couldn't find Willy. Ex had left the house after me. I went back and forth through the house, searching the Taj Mahal, and he just wasn't there. The only possible scenario was that he got past ex, who didn't notice. We lived on 5 acres of land, about 2.5 acres of it were wooded. All I could think of was that Rotty, or some other animal bigger than Willy hurting him (or worse). I made fliers, I walked the acreage, I called, I begged, I pleaded for my baby to come home. Friends came and helped me. I was distraught to say the least. I couldn't work, all I could think about was my baby boy alone, out in the big bad world.
Two days later, ex called to tell me a hungry Willy had shown back up and was in the garage when he got home. You only thought my obsession with seeing all of the kitties before leaving was bad before -- now it was a full blown, neurotic obsession.
There was the time Cookie began having seizures, and we found a black widow dead on the floor. We rushed her to the vet for a very expensive stay in ICU. The vet couldn't locate a bite site and was skeptical. We went back home and got the spider to show her. She eventually found the bite inside Cookie's mouth! Bad things reside in the big bad world outside of the safe indoors.
Mostly the cats were all 4 healthy, thankfully.
In 2005, ex and I separated and divorced. About 5 months later, we sold the house, which I'd been living in. I was moving closer to work which was an hour commute one way. I was having a hard time finding an apartment that would allow pets. I finally found a duplex, and the landlord agreed to let me bring one cat. There was never any question in my mind - it was Willy, hands down. Ex agreed to take the other 3. It broke my heart, I loved them, and to this day I miss them and get teary eyed when I think of them. Luckily ex and I remained friends, and for a while, I went to his house to visit them. He kept Willy for a few days while I went out of town.
On moving day, I finally let Willy out of the bathroom in the apartment, and only a few minutes after he was out of the bathroom where I'd kept him confined, someone opened the door and he bolted. We chased him and finally cornered him and brought him inside.
I hated living in that duplex, and soon started looking for a house. I felt so bad that Willy had previously had a Taj Mahal and now all he has was a spot in the window (which became his favorite location). One of my requirements for a house was a screened in porch. No screened in porch, and I wasn't even interested in looking at the house, unless there was a way one could be added. I had a few other things I *wanted*, but the porch was a deal-breaker.
One day while riding through a subdivision that we happened upon, we rounded a curve and I found my house, complete with screened in porch. Moving day couldn't get here fast enough.
Willy loves the porch. Chris put in a kitty cat door for him so he can come and go at will. He has taken over my swing as his personal spot (he does let me join him from time to time). He chases the lizards that wander onto the porch, and he wins most of the time - poor lizards. He watches the birds, the rabbits, the squirrels and the ducks.
Every time I leave the house, I have to find him, know where he is, kiss him on the head, and tell him to be a sweet boy and that Mama loves him. Call it obsessive compulsive, a ritual, neurotic behavior, whatever, I don't care, I'm fine with the label.
12 years of love - both given and received, and I'm so distraught about the cancer that has invaded his body. I was so busy looking out for the things in the big bad outside world, that the microscopic things took us all by surprise.
I am so thankful for all of the photos and the videos I have of Willy, I enjoy them now, and I will enjoy them always, just like I enjoy the photos of Milly, Oreo, Cookie, Woody and Nicholas. I suspect I will enjoy the ones of Willy the most, heck, I don't suspect, I know.
R.I.P. Patches 1989 - 2010
Patches was the lovable grouch of a cat who belonged to my friend Liz. Patches passed away this morning at the age of 21 from renal failure. Liz told me not to cry for Patches, so I'm trying. I know that like Liz said, she is feeling 100% better.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Hopes dashed
Falling from the top of the world hurts. UGA called back, on further examination, it is cancer. Hemangiosarcoma which has spread to the liver. We're devastated. He apologized for having to call back and give me a different diagnosis. I think I'm most upset about the liver. We have an appointment on Tuesday with the oncologist. I still believe in God's power and mercy. I need, we need the strength and the wisdom to handle this.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
God is good! & Willy's results are too!
It's day 12, biopsy results were supposed to be back within 3-5 days. I'm getting anxious, but ignorance is bliss. I have prayed and have asked everyone I know and even strangers to pray for Willy, my 12 year old cat.
1 mass the size of an orange, with a smaller mass attached to it
1 small mass in the omentum
2 spots on his liver
2 skin lesions
... and one known chondrosarcoma on his toe.
He has been recovering well, I'm happy with his progress. I have prayed and prayed, and prayed some more. I told a co-worker (who has a strong faith) just yesterday that it must be taking so long because it must be something odd. We laughed and agreed that it would have to be something odd because he was *my* cat.
The phone rang today, the caller ID said blocked - which is what it says when they call me from UGA. My stomach tightened up in a knot. It was the surgeon. He was calling to give me results.
The big mass, the one the size of a softball he calls it today - is odd. Yep, he said it, odd. He said they can't classify it. That it is mostly necrosis. They surmise that it was a previous mass of some sort that had a blood supply and lost that supply. He said, we can't call it cancer, so we have to call it benign. Thank you Jesus!
He said he the margins are clean and that they completely removed the mass. They will continue to try to classify and identify the mass, and will update me if they come up with anything, but consider it benign. It seems we stumped 'em.
1 small mass in the omentum -- a blood clot, benign.
2 spots on the liver -- benign
2 skin lesions -- benign, ulcerated skin resulting from clipper burn when they shaved him for the ultrasound.
Our God is a God of mercy, and I am so thankful to be one of his children.
The diabetes turned out to be transient, and is now gone.
His anemia is gone.
He's on the road to recovery.
We still have the toe to deal with, and while I hate that he has to go through one more thing, I know it is the right thing to do for him.
The thoughts that kept recurring during the waiting of the past 12 days were that we got him to the vet minutes before he would have died on April 19th. We again got him to the vet minutes before he would have died on April 23rd. That's the day we found out about the mass. That was also his 12th birthday.
The week he was at UGA, God blessed me with the funds to cover the vet bill, so treatment costs weren't a factor. I was able to cover the bill in full with some left over.
So, back to the thoughts -- why would he have survived those two very close brushes with death just the week before to have to battle a horrible disease? Why would the funds just appear for me to be able to get him the care he needed without having to worry about the cost only to find out it was something bad?
Those thoughts gave me reason for hope. My hope turned into joy today. Again, thank you God, and thank you to everyone who prayed for my little boy.
1 mass the size of an orange, with a smaller mass attached to it
1 small mass in the omentum
2 spots on his liver
2 skin lesions
... and one known chondrosarcoma on his toe.
He has been recovering well, I'm happy with his progress. I have prayed and prayed, and prayed some more. I told a co-worker (who has a strong faith) just yesterday that it must be taking so long because it must be something odd. We laughed and agreed that it would have to be something odd because he was *my* cat.
The phone rang today, the caller ID said blocked - which is what it says when they call me from UGA. My stomach tightened up in a knot. It was the surgeon. He was calling to give me results.
The big mass, the one the size of a softball he calls it today - is odd. Yep, he said it, odd. He said they can't classify it. That it is mostly necrosis. They surmise that it was a previous mass of some sort that had a blood supply and lost that supply. He said, we can't call it cancer, so we have to call it benign. Thank you Jesus!
He said he the margins are clean and that they completely removed the mass. They will continue to try to classify and identify the mass, and will update me if they come up with anything, but consider it benign. It seems we stumped 'em.
1 small mass in the omentum -- a blood clot, benign.
2 spots on the liver -- benign
2 skin lesions -- benign, ulcerated skin resulting from clipper burn when they shaved him for the ultrasound.
Our God is a God of mercy, and I am so thankful to be one of his children.
The diabetes turned out to be transient, and is now gone.
His anemia is gone.
He's on the road to recovery.
We still have the toe to deal with, and while I hate that he has to go through one more thing, I know it is the right thing to do for him.
The thoughts that kept recurring during the waiting of the past 12 days were that we got him to the vet minutes before he would have died on April 19th. We again got him to the vet minutes before he would have died on April 23rd. That's the day we found out about the mass. That was also his 12th birthday.
The week he was at UGA, God blessed me with the funds to cover the vet bill, so treatment costs weren't a factor. I was able to cover the bill in full with some left over.
So, back to the thoughts -- why would he have survived those two very close brushes with death just the week before to have to battle a horrible disease? Why would the funds just appear for me to be able to get him the care he needed without having to worry about the cost only to find out it was something bad?
Those thoughts gave me reason for hope. My hope turned into joy today. Again, thank you God, and thank you to everyone who prayed for my little boy.
Willy photos
How many ways can you lie on a bench?
According to Willy, at least 3...
All of the above shots were pre-surgery.
This is Willy's first post op day, I was amazed at how good he looked and was getting around, and I was a bit shocked by his new hair style.
This next one is on post op day 2. Chris went with me. I love the way Willy is looking up at him. (Hey Dude, can you get me outta here?)
Another one of his rock star hair style
First day home from the UGA Small Animal Teaching Hospital.
Feeling better... enjoying the swing on the screened in back porch.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Willy's story
So, we've been having quite a time with Willy on a medical front. I've had Willy since he was only a few weeks old. He fit in the palm of my hand. Right from the start, he was my baby. My baby is 12 years old now, and he weighs 14 lbs.
He's currently in ICU at the University of Georgia Small Animal Teaching Hospital.
He had surgery on Thursday to remove a mass the size of an orange out of his abdomen. They had to remove part of his colon, and they removed two other masses and took some biopsies of his liver. We are waiting on pathology results. We are praying, we are believing, we know that healing is available. I am claiming healing for Willy.
The skill of those caring for him at the hospital has been nothing short of excellent. We have been very pleased with their care. I thank God for giving those skills, and caring hearts and hands.
Thank you to the staff of the UGA Small Animal Teaching Hospital for taking such good care of my little boy. Thank you for being so kind to me and letting me visit.
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