You are not alone.
You are loved.
You are our friend.
CCKMA
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Fear
Fear is a powerful thing. The unknown makes us fearful. Facing your fears is so much easier when you have a game plan and you know your opponent.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Gabby, Gabs, Gabalicious, Gabakins...
She has won our hearts, she brings laughter to a house that was saddened by the death of our beloved cat Willy. She is still sick with her upper respiratory infection. We had another vet visit on Saturday, and they took me into the room where Willy was put to sleep. I almost asked them to take me to another room. I sat there and cried when they left me in the room to take her to the back to be examined. I got out my iPhone to distract myself.
Her URI is not better, so we are on new antibiotics now, and she got a shot of steroids. I almost freaked about that. Steroids were what caused the diabetes in Willy. Steroids were what caused my blood sugar to spike after my back surgery, it's a good thing I was still on the PCA pump lying there in ICU when they gave me insulin, or I might have freaked. Instead, I just pushed the button and let the morphine take over. Her shot of steroids was to help her breathe, so I had to relax and let them give her an injection. I mean, she needs to breathe.
Saturday night, she played and played and played. We were just going to bed, and she jumped up to the foot of the bed, and she was open mouth breathing. Again, I freaked. That was what they told me Willy would do just before his death, and he did. Thankfully, it went away after about a minute. But that was a long minute for me. I couldn't get to sleep, I worried about her. I woke up during the night, and worried about her.
She didn't do it again. Thank you Jesus. Sunday, she got in the meatloaf position - that's the position cats get in to help them breathe easier.
My little girl is sick and I'm so worried about her. This morning, when my alarm went off, she was asleep at the foot of the bed, but she didn't stir as quick as I thought she should, and my heart was pounding. But she was just took her time in waking up.
I'm paranoid, but trying not to be. The vet's office called to check on her this morning, and I told them about the open mouth breathing and the meatloaf position. She told me she'd check with the vet and call me back. She told me not to worry about the open mouth breathing unless it went on for greater than 10 minutes and the meatloaf position is a position that kittens often get in, they like to tuck their front feet under themselves, and to not worry.
So, I'm listening to what they are telling me, but with a dash of over-protectiveness. She's my baby, and I can't help but worry.
Her URI is not better, so we are on new antibiotics now, and she got a shot of steroids. I almost freaked about that. Steroids were what caused the diabetes in Willy. Steroids were what caused my blood sugar to spike after my back surgery, it's a good thing I was still on the PCA pump lying there in ICU when they gave me insulin, or I might have freaked. Instead, I just pushed the button and let the morphine take over. Her shot of steroids was to help her breathe, so I had to relax and let them give her an injection. I mean, she needs to breathe.
Saturday night, she played and played and played. We were just going to bed, and she jumped up to the foot of the bed, and she was open mouth breathing. Again, I freaked. That was what they told me Willy would do just before his death, and he did. Thankfully, it went away after about a minute. But that was a long minute for me. I couldn't get to sleep, I worried about her. I woke up during the night, and worried about her.
She didn't do it again. Thank you Jesus. Sunday, she got in the meatloaf position - that's the position cats get in to help them breathe easier.
My little girl is sick and I'm so worried about her. This morning, when my alarm went off, she was asleep at the foot of the bed, but she didn't stir as quick as I thought she should, and my heart was pounding. But she was just took her time in waking up.
I'm paranoid, but trying not to be. The vet's office called to check on her this morning, and I told them about the open mouth breathing and the meatloaf position. She told me she'd check with the vet and call me back. She told me not to worry about the open mouth breathing unless it went on for greater than 10 minutes and the meatloaf position is a position that kittens often get in, they like to tuck their front feet under themselves, and to not worry.
So, I'm listening to what they are telling me, but with a dash of over-protectiveness. She's my baby, and I can't help but worry.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
It bears repeating
I've said it before and I'll say it again. Cancer sucks.
Thinking of you my friend, you beat it before and you will beat it again. Love you E.
Thinking of you my friend, you beat it before and you will beat it again. Love you E.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Again?
It started with boogers. Cute little Gabby was sporting these ugly black boogers. We'd wipe her nose, a process she was not fond of, but they came back.
Then the sneezing started, a little dainty sneeze, maybe once a day. Nothing that really concerned me, I'd wait for the next one, and it might appear the next day, or not at all.
On Friday, she sneezed three times in a span of a few minutes. So, I called the vet's office, they said bring her at 3:15. This is the same vet's office where she lived for about 2 months while waiting to be adopted out and while being treated for a nasty case of coccidia.
I had a sense of deja vu walking through those doors with a cat carrier on my shoulder. They were happy to see their little friend, the sweetest one, the most playful one. She on the other hand, wasn't so wild about her visit, but despite that - she was a sweet girl.
A sweet girl with an upper respiratory infection, a mild one, but we have to start her on some treatment. You'd never know by looking at her, except for the boogers. She has not slowed down in the least. She's full of energy, and into everything.
Liquid Clavamox twice a day - and let me tell you - that process is NOT fun. There's power in those little legs when they are in fight or flight mode.
And then, because kittens can be a little pre-disposed to viruses, Lysine powder twice a day. Memories instantly flooded back to me, and I had to bite back the tears. I was giving Willy the Lysine powder twice a day to help keep the viruses away from his battered immune system. I told her that I still had a jar, an almost full jar because the cancer was stronger than the viruses.
So, now I'm doling out Lysine powder to my little girl, with a jab in my heart each time I do.
Then the sneezing started, a little dainty sneeze, maybe once a day. Nothing that really concerned me, I'd wait for the next one, and it might appear the next day, or not at all.
On Friday, she sneezed three times in a span of a few minutes. So, I called the vet's office, they said bring her at 3:15. This is the same vet's office where she lived for about 2 months while waiting to be adopted out and while being treated for a nasty case of coccidia.
I had a sense of deja vu walking through those doors with a cat carrier on my shoulder. They were happy to see their little friend, the sweetest one, the most playful one. She on the other hand, wasn't so wild about her visit, but despite that - she was a sweet girl.
A sweet girl with an upper respiratory infection, a mild one, but we have to start her on some treatment. You'd never know by looking at her, except for the boogers. She has not slowed down in the least. She's full of energy, and into everything.
Liquid Clavamox twice a day - and let me tell you - that process is NOT fun. There's power in those little legs when they are in fight or flight mode.
And then, because kittens can be a little pre-disposed to viruses, Lysine powder twice a day. Memories instantly flooded back to me, and I had to bite back the tears. I was giving Willy the Lysine powder twice a day to help keep the viruses away from his battered immune system. I told her that I still had a jar, an almost full jar because the cancer was stronger than the viruses.
So, now I'm doling out Lysine powder to my little girl, with a jab in my heart each time I do.
Reality bites
This has been a tough week for my friends.
An ugly foe rearing its head in the form of fear, and the possibility of something so much worse. ~~~
Seeking a name for the culprit that is slowly taking mobility away, so we can fight it once we know what it is. ~~~
A shock to the very foundation of something ordained by God. ~~~
Something so difficult to talk to me about, from someone who can talk to me about anything. ~~~
I love each of these friends. I hurt along with them. I stand beside them offering what I can, which sometimes is only a hug, a word of support, sometimes something a little more practical.
I want each of you to know that I am so sorry these things are assaulting you, and to know that I am standing with you in prayer and faith.
An ugly foe rearing its head in the form of fear, and the possibility of something so much worse. ~~~
Seeking a name for the culprit that is slowly taking mobility away, so we can fight it once we know what it is. ~~~
A shock to the very foundation of something ordained by God. ~~~
Something so difficult to talk to me about, from someone who can talk to me about anything. ~~~
I love each of these friends. I hurt along with them. I stand beside them offering what I can, which sometimes is only a hug, a word of support, sometimes something a little more practical.
I want each of you to know that I am so sorry these things are assaulting you, and to know that I am standing with you in prayer and faith.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
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.
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.
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.
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