Flat on my back

Another post I started but didn't finish, I did decide to finish this one up though, so it is a complete post.

I've known for a while that I was going to have to have back surgery, what I didn't know was that I was going to recover while lying flat on my back - no sitting up.

I have missed Willy so much, I am thankful that my family and friends have been with me round the clock because otherwise I couldn't stand being in this house without my little boy.

Tomorrow will be a month since he died, I can't believe he's been gone that long, and yet, at the same time, it seems like forever.  (it's been longer now, but I started this post on July 20th)

I've had a hard time trying to decide whether or not to get another cat.  I know there will never be a replacement for Willy, and I don't want a *replacement*.  I know my little boy wouldn't want me to be sad, he was always so in tune with me when something was wrong, either physically, or if I was upset.  Finally, it may sound silly, but I feel like Willy had a paw in picking out the new addition to our family.  For the last couple of weeks of his life, when I would take Willy to the vet, there was a cage with five kittens for adoption.  I was immediately drawn to one of them, but Willy needed all of my focus.  He was the most important to me.

Then there were 4, then 3, then 2 - and she was still available.  I walked away every time.

Then, Willy died.  My heart was so raw that I couldn't even think of adopting another cat.  Two weeks went by.  My surgery date was drawing near, and my emotions were running high.  Bless Chris, he put up with the rollercoaster ride I was on, and he just loved me through the tears.  We talked a lot about to adopt or not to adopt and when to adopt.

If I was going to adopt, I'd need to do it the very next day, a Saturday, it'd be the only chance I got to get out and find a kitten before my surgery.  I went back and forth with myself, the argument yes or no.  I finally decided no, that it just wasn't the right timing.  I didn't want to rush and just pick out any kitten even though I'd been checking out all of the local shelter websites.  Chris would have to worry about taking care of a new kitten while I was in the hospital and he was worried about me.  I would be away during what I thought would be some crucial bonding time.

I had to take Willy's sharps container with his used insulin syringes back to the vet's office for disposal.  I had some unused cans of prescription cat food that I wanted to return, along with a few other unused items.  So, instead of going out to find a kitten, I gathered up my courage and headed to the vet's office to return the stuff.  I told Chris when I left the house that if that kitten was still there, then I was bringing her home.  He said good.

I walked in the vet's office and was immediately deflated, the cage was gone.  The vet saw me from the back and came out right away to hug me and ask how I was doing.  Of course, I broke down right there, and all of the other girls hugged me.  I turned and was walking out the door and I stopped and turned around and asked if all of the kittens were adopted out.  The answer was no, they were in the back, because they'd caught a nasty case of coccidia and they were being treated.  I asked if the one I was interested was still available, and the answer was yes.  They brought her out to see me, and I fell in love.  I told them that I'd like to adopt her as long as she was going to be able to recover, because in my state, there was no way that I could care for a sick cat and I couldn't have my heart broken again.  The vet assured me it was a common condition and she would recover.

We made arrangements, she should be recovered and ready to come home when I got home from the hospital.  Her case proved to be a little difficult, she and the others infected were having a tough go of it.  She was finally adoption ready yesterday after being spayed on Monday.

I still can't drive, so Chris went before work and brought her home!  I'm so excited.  I know she is thrilled to be out of her e-collar, and out of the cage she's been living in for a couple of months, and am thrilled that she's here.

She's been a little skittish, but other than that, she's adapted really quickly.  It's nice to have life in the house again.  I want to go back and say that for my own silly reasons, I think Willy had a paw in helping pick her out, is because they were in the same place, at the same time, on several occasions - and that he passed the torch to her, along with instructions to take care of his Mama.  Like I said, silly, but that thought helps me get through the betrayal and guilt feelings I've been battling.

So, here she is, meet Gabby.  She is a dilute calico and is just adorable.  This is her, in action, playing with the mouse Willy left for her.  I'm sure this blog will see many pictures of Gabby in the future, but I posted this one so you can see her markings and her playfulness all in one photo.  I got lucky and caught her throwing the mouse in the air.

Welcome to the family Gabby, we already love you.

The worst waiting game ever...

I found this draft post that I never finished, and one that I don't think I CAN finish - but I decided to post it anyway.  Everyone knows the outcome of the story - but I think for me, I need to post this:

I've turned into a stalker.   I really don't have a choice.  I guess I do, everyone has choices.  But this one doesn't feel like a choice.  I'm a player in a waiting game.  A game I never wanted to play.

Just the other day, I posted on the milestone Willy had reached - 120 days.  I could see him adding another month and hopefully even more because of how good he's been doing.

Day 122 dawned, and he didn't seem to be feeling well, so I took him to the vet just for a check.  His blood work was all good, weight was stable.  He was a little dehydrated, so they gave him some fluids.  I could pick him up any time after 3:30 that afternoon.  He acted like he still wasn't feeling that great, but more than that, he seem to act like he was upset with me for taking him to the vet.  I can understand that, he's been poked and prodded A LOT during the past five months, and I'm sure he's tired of it.

Day 123 arrived, and he seemed better.  It was a crazy day for me, but I ended up having a late lunch and dashed home to check on him.  He was better, but still a little aloof.  I went to dinner with a friend and brought home leftovers.  He enjoyed the shrimp.

Day 124, as soon as I open my eyes, somethings not right.  It's 5:50 am and usually, when I wake up and start stirring around, he takes full advantage of that and demands his breakfast.  I couldn't find him.  I woke Chris up, and we both looked for him.  I was getting panicky.  And, true to form, we turned around and there he sits, and us with no idea where he came from.  But, he was in the meatloaf position.  A position that I've learned that cats assume when they aren't feeling well.  He did eat his breakfast, so I felt better about that.

I decided he was going to work with me.  So, I loaded him up, and off to work we went.  He wouldn't come out of his carrier for more than a minute.  Late morning, he ventured out and laid down in the litter pan and stayed there.  That of course concerned me.  I counted his respiration rate.  It was 86.  So, I called the vet.  It was the new vet, fresh out of school.  As a matter of fact, she was at the University while Willy was a patient there.  He wasn't on any of her services though.  She was familiar with him though when I called, my vet had given her his vital information.

She told me that he was critical, and he only had days, if not hours to live.  My mind knew it, but my heart couldn't wrap around it.  I took him home and the wait started.  I stalked his every moment, wherever he was, there I was.  Chris would relieve me so I could sleep some.  If Willy was in the closet, so was I, lying there right beside him.
*****
That's as far as I got, I assume it got too painful to complete.

The array of Willy's meds

I was straightening the cat food shelf and was amazed at all of the medications that I'd been using for Willy.  So, I put them all on the counter and took a picture.  This doesn't include the insulin, and insulin syringes and sharps container, I'd already taken them back to the vet's office.

Heart on the mend

My heart is raw with grief over the loss of Willy.  The two weeks since his death have been so very difficult.  The tears have been either free flowing, or just under the surface ready to start running, which they do more often than not.  I am able to control them a little better though when I'm somewhere other than at home.

My routines have been shaken. Willy isn't there to wake me up in the morning by stepping on my hair until I give in and get up.  When I do get up, there's no need to get his breakfast ready, the house is silent, and still.  Too still.  Chris is still sleeping and I'm so alone, so very alone, missing my baby boy.  I try to stay on my loose schedule for getting ready for work.  10 - 15 minutes are cut off my time, there's no litter box to scoop, no water bowls to fill, no hair ball paste to give, no treats to give, no medication to give, no little boy to pick up and love on before I head out the door to work.  There's only a spot beneath the trees in the back yard to look at, and to tell my little boy that Mama loves him and to be a sweet boy.  That's what I told him every time I left the house.

When I come home, there's no supper to feed my little boy.  When I go to bed, he's not there to go with me and make biscuits at the foot of the bed, or lie on my side, or my chest.

I miss those things.  I miss watching Willy enjoying the back porch, and getting out there through the cat door Chris installed.  I miss seeing him sitting at the big door waiting for someone to open it for him because he didn't want to be bothered to use the cat door. I bought this house so Willy could have a screened in porch.

The lizards are safe now without Willy on the prowl.

I miss the way he'd come stand on my lap top when he wanted attention.

I miss the way he'd be waiting for me when I'd come out of the bathroom.

I miss giving him catnip, and watching him enjoy it.

I miss watching him sharpen his claws on the scratcher.

I miss watching him play with his toys, that boy loved his toys.

I miss seeing him stretched out on the floor.

I miss seeing him enjoying the swing.

I miss seeing him lying on the bench, or in the sunlight.

I miss seeing him go to a sunny spot in front of the window in the mornings after he'd eat his breakfast.

I miss catching him on the counter top or on the table, where he knew he wasn't supposed to be.  I miss the expression on his face when I'd catch him.

I miss his purr.

I miss scooping him up and giving him kisses.

I miss the feel of his fur.

I miss him running to the pantry every time I would walk through the house, and him talking to me as he ran ahead of me.

I miss giving in and giving him a treat most times he "asked".

I miss him showing up just as we are about to sit down at the dinner table, his timing impeccable.

I miss how he used to sit right next to me, in his chair, waiting patiently on the next morsel.

I miss his meow.

I miss him, I miss Willy, my little boy who I loved for 12 years and 2 months, who I continue to love even though his body isn't here.

I miss so much more.

I'm glad to say that there are some things that I don't miss.  I don't miss hemobartonellis, I don't miss chondrosarcoma, I don't miss diabetes,  and most of all, I don't miss hemangiosarcoma.

I am glad that Willy is at peace, free of pain, free of suffering, free of feeling badly.  I am glad that we had 129 days after the tumor was first seen on x-ray to love him.  I know that I did everything I possibly could to give him as much good quality of life possible.  I know that Chris did everything he could.

I felt, and I do still feel so helpless against those tiny microorganisms that wreaked havoc on his small body.  I'm so angry that Willy was dealt such an awful hand.  I think he handled everything that was thrown at him like a champ.  Everyone at every vet appointment we took him to, talked about how sweet and lovable he is.  It warms my heart to know that others feel the same way I do about him.  I am so lucky to have so many people who care about Willy, and about me and Chris, and about what we've been through.  We have an amazing support system.

My heart is slowing mending, although it will never be complete.  Someone said to me that I have a Willy shaped spot in my heart, that only he can fill. 

Grief is a horrible thing, it is overwhelming.  I don't ever want to experience it again.

Willy......... April 23, 1998 - June 21, 2010

Day 129, that's how far we got.  129 days, I feel robbed.  Willy and I had a 20 year plan.  Damn that hemangiosarcoma., 12 years and 2 months, and I had to let my little boy go.  Mama loves you.  You be a sweet boy.