So Vashti went in yesterday for her two-week follow-up after having been released from the hospital. The blood tests came back today and they’re…the same. Her thyroid and kidney values are almost exactly the same as they were when I first brought her in three weeks ago, convinced she was about to die. She’s also still anemic. Just about the only good news we got was that she’s gained half a pound and that her potassium levels are much better (which I had already surmised, because Vashti was having awful muscle spasms, which have now almost completely subsided).
I’ll admit that I was expecting to hear a better report. Not simply because I wanted to (I recognize that blind hope can persuade us of even the most improbable things) but also because Vashti seems so much better. She’s eating well, seems truly happy most of the time, and even plays a bit every now and then. True, she spends most of her time sleeping–but then again she’s a cat. Even Homer, who still has daily fits of extreme, bouncing-off-the-walls hyperactivity, spends most of the day asleep. I wouldn’t exactly say that she’s the Vashti of five or six years ago, but I would say that she’s the Vashti of maybe two years ago.
Laurence keeps saying that he just hopes Vashti sticks around long enough to see some warmer weather. She’s passionately fond of going out on our balcony, which is of course a pretty uncomfortable place to be in the cold of winter.
Laurence said that again when we got off the phone with the vet, and for the first time since this whole thing began I was angry with him. I know how unfair that is–I know how much he truly loves her. If it’s possible for anybody to love Vashti as much as I do, Laurence does. This is the man who emphatically did not want any cats sleeping in the bedroom, and now the first thing he does when he wakes up in the morning is say, “Where’s Vashti?” And Vashti will come out from her little nest in our closet to jump on his chest and purr like crazy. Vashti is pretty much dividing her time between our bedroom and the rest of the apartment these days, and whenever Vashti’s in the bedroom, Laurence goes in at least once every hour to check up on her and lie down on the bed so Vashti can jump onto his chest. When we get into bed at night, Vashti spends a full half hour alternating between my chest and Laurence’s before she finally settles down between us, purring in the loud, strong manner of…well, of a healthy cat.
But it upset me to think of Vashti in terms of whether she’ll live a few more weeks or a few more months. Over the past week, seeing her doing better every day than she was the day before, I had half convinced myself that Vashti might still have a few more years left. When Laurence said he hoped she “sticks around” at least until April or May (it’s February now!), it felt like he was giving up.
I know that’s not true. I know that’s not fair. I know that Laurence wants Vashti with us forever every bit as much as I do.
I guess I just wasn’t prepared to hear from the vet that Vashti’s not any better than she was a few weeks ago.
I’m not sure how to respond without getting into personal stories I probably shouldn’t relate in public. Everyone has a different way of dealing with crisis; Laurence may not be giving up so much as steeling himself for the unspeakable. Perhaps the best you can do is to live in the day that it is: today Vashti ate this, played with that, purred on the bed. What happens tomorrow, will happen tomorrow, and will be dealt with in that atmosphere of love that you have built around all your connected lives, feline and human. The tests didn’t indicate any deterioration: that in itself may be positive.
She’s not technically better, but it sounds like she’s also not worse, and is active and happy. That’s a good thing, I think. And maybe what Laurence said wasn’t so much a hope but a wish wrapped around a request to someone a little higher up…?
I agree with Gisele. Live in the moment! For yourself and for Vashti … REALLY relish your time together. And if she’s more or less “holding her own” that IS better than NOT holding her own. You guys have SO many people thinking of you all and pulling for her, despite what you are all facing. I mean, you know the outcome but … stop focusing SO much on that (I know, easy for me to say, right?) and focus on NOW. This moment. How Vasthi’s fur feels. The color of her eyes. The curve of a paw. The color of her nose. The way she looks at you. How Homer & Scarlett are when they are all together with you and Laurence.
Savor each thing you notice like a glass of fine wine or a well-cooked meal, as if you’ll never drink or eat so well again.
We love you. XOXOXO
Some random thoughts. . . my first is a mantra from the CRF list: “Treat the cat, not the numbers.” Some cats have horrible numbers and do quite well, while others look better on paper than they are in person. The idea is to just make her happy and do what you can to support her. If she’s acting better, she’s feeling better– enjoy that, no matter what the numbers say. Everybody has different tolerance levels. And enjoy the rest of the family as well.
As for living in the moment, that’s the ideal. I always think of Our Town and that beautiful, heartbreaking moment when the dead woman has seen how fast life goes and asks if anyone is ever to just live in the moment. The Stage Manager says, “The saints and poets, maybe.” We try to hold on and focus intently and we sometimes miss the big picture by trying to hold onto a scrap.
You are doing all the right things. You’re being a wonderful mommy to all the kitties.
As for Laurence. . . he may be doing what I tended to do. Trying to imagine the after, anticipating the grief, poking at the pain experimentally to try to prepare for the pain that will come at some point. Don’t let it upset you. It’s a coping mechanism, a way of trying to prepare one’s self for whatever may come. I played at it, hoping for the best while trying to prepare for the worst. The difference is that I kept it to myself. It’s a way of keeping fear at bay and dealing. It’s not the best way, I’ll grant. But on another level, it did help keep me focused on appreciating NOW.
My prayers are with you all.
There’s a saying in medicine that tends to go, don’t treat the lab work, treat the patient. What it means is that, yes, you get a certain amount of information from the test results. But what you really want to pay attention to is how the individual is doing. Everyone reacts differently so, for example, pain that would incapacitate one person doesn’t stop someone else. The same thing is true with the lab values. Vashti is obviously feeling better and that’s what counts. Hang in there. It’s a bumpy ride but you’re doing well.
Vashti’s eating & has gained a little weight! Is playful and sounds happy to be in bed purring. It will take time for her to heal and with spring & warmer weather about a month way will help her. Will continue to pray for her to regain her strength and to give you both peace! Take it one day at a time & Enjoy & love her because we never know when God will call us home!
Love you all!
This is all a part of caring for a CRF kitty… and when I’d worry over the test results, my vet and other CRF kitty parents would gently ask how my kitties were acting. Some kitties can cope with bad numbers for quite some time, and mine were among those. The high values freaked me out at first until I learned to pay as much attention to the way my kitties were behaving as to the test results. That’s what I meant in a previous comment when I said treat the cat, not the numbers. Vashti will let you know how she’s feeling so you and the vet can adjust her treatment as you go along. Is she taking erythropoetin for the anemia? I also supported the erythropoetin with methylcobalamin (Vitamin B12). My kitties did well on that regimen for quite some time when the time came to address that issue. And if you are so inclined to join a support group, Yahoo has a great group for feline and canine anemia support. Many of the members on this group have CRF kitties and they are very knowledgeable. Hang in there, Gwen…
I have been where you are. It is heart wrenching (only I was losing a part of a daughter too. A daughter I had lost 3 yrs. previously, 26 in a car wreck who got this cat as a kitten from the shelter). I was dealing with a cancer. His brother is still here. I did not expect Bud to go so soon and I held on until I knew I could not let him suffer so much physically I would be the one holding him.
You are not at the point. Love her. Everyone is right. She is NO worse right this minute. You have given her the meds she needs to “maintain” her. Love can keep them near. She loves, you love. To lose is to have loved though I have not been able to understand that losing a daughter or animal.
I wish for you, she does not suffer and she will be able to spend her total days at home, with both of you, loving her, stroking her and like, most of us, not wanting to be in some cold, hard, hospital place. Allow her to be with you, loved, held and comforted.
You are comforted by all your friends who are not only loving you but praying for you because it is a trauma but you know she is not dying from some major trauma like accident. It is a life cycle unfortunately.
I’m sorry the news from the vet wasn’t better – BUT. You said Vashti seems so much better. That to you, she seems like the Vashti from two years ago. That matters so much more than blood values and test results. They’re just numbers. All that matters is how Vashti feels, and from what you’re saying, she IS feeling better. Let Vashti be your guide, not the test results. Focus on the fact that she’s still having good days, that she’s still playing, that she’s eating, that she wants to be with you and Laurence.
It sounds to me that Laurence is trying to cope with all of this in his own way, and he probably feels that by getting used to the idea that some day, Vashti may not be with you anymore, it will hurt less when that time comes. Unfortunately, I don’t think we can prepare ourselves for loss that way. Yes, it helps to have time to say goodbye, but it’s still devastating when the time comes.
However, I don’t think it’s helpful for you, or Vashti, or Laurence, for that matter, to focus on the end. It’s much more helpful to try and stay in the moment. To try and enjoy every good day Vashti has. To help her through the not so good days. And most of all, to not get fixated on numbers, statistics, the prognosis your vet has given you, or any of that “scientific stuff.” Therein lies the challenge of caring for a terminally ill cat, but therein also lies the amazing potential for grace, and for love. Even though it’s hard, and some days are harder than others, I’ve found that caring for a sick cat can deepen the bond we share with these amazing creatures even more. By allowing ourselves to remain fully present throughout the process, our connection with our precious cats becomes even stronger. I didn’t think it was possible, but that’s exactly what happened for me. I wish for you that you’ll find it can happen for you, and Laurence, too.
You’re all in my thoughts and prayers.
I’m sorry you didn’t get the news you’d wanted from the vet, but Vashti is holding her own and is stable. You are doing an amazing job in caring for her, which we would all do (and more) for our kitty kids. My gorgeous girl passed away last July after a long battle with squamous cell carcinoma. She had a tumour removed from her jaw in November 2008 and the vet gave a prognosis of a few months. She was with us until 7 July 2009. I believe she drew strength from her brothers and from helping me look after my then newborn baby girl to whom she was a second Mom. The bond between them was unbelievable and we were blessed to have Roxie in our lives for almost 16 years. You will have wonderful days and some not so good days too. But you will get through them for Vashti. You are in our thoughts x
I’m sorry to hear Vashti’s #’s weren’t any better, but numbers are not the whole story. If she is eating, eliminating, purring, & pain free, then my advice is to look at that. Each day is G-d’s gift to us, it is not a given. To spend each day wondering & worrying about when the last one will be, is fruitless & mentally draining. Take each day, be happy for the blessings in it, and if you really look you’ll find many. Don’t anticipate things that are not yet ready to happen. Live in the now., and gain strength from all those who care!
My Marmalade lived three years after his levels were all so bad he shouldn’t have been alive! And during those three years, even though clinically he was a very ill little boy, he didn’t behave any differently from any other cat. And at Marmie’s first diagnosis the vet was preparing to put him down until I listened to my instincts changed my mind.
Even though he was so sick, clinically, he didn’t act like it. I was put in mind of how technically bumblebees can’t fly, but they don’t know that, so they do. I’m hoping The Vashowitz can be your bumblebee.
I am sorry that Vashti’s numbers are not better, but she may be acting better because she is at peace with the outcome that is to be. When my cat, Peggy, was diagnosed with cancer, the vet gave her 4-6 weeks. I got 4 weeks. All I wanted was for her to run to the door and meet me one last time so I could pick her up and sing to her. She perked up the last few days of her life and did that, so the morning she woke up, looked at me and let me know it was time, I called an animal therapist to give her one last massage, and then I took her to the vet in order to cross the Rainbow Bridge in peace and dignity.
I have a sense of what Laurence is saying. I did not want Peggy cold. I also needed to have those memories of her running to greet me so I would remember a healthy cat.
As the others have said, savor every moment; but at the same time, tell Vashti that you release her. It is not easy, but she needs to know that you will all be okay.
I lost Peggy in September 2007 and the tears are flowing as I write this, but she waits for me in Heaven.
Just keep doing what you both are doing-hold her, lay down with her, ask her to hold on until she can be out on the balcony where she can feel the sun streaming down on her, but at the same time let her know that you release her.
My thoughts and prayers are with both of you and Homer and Scarlett.
Dear Gwen, Vashti could possibly be here for many more spring seasons! When my dear Libby was first diagnosed with kidney disease we worried and stressed… she was 11 years old. She compensated so much on her own by drinking so much water. One of her favorite spots was up on the kitchen counter next to the sink… she would wait for someone to come by and turn the tap on. She loved to drink the fresh cold water. We would take her in every 6 months or so and have her blood tested again. It would always be the same (bad) and one year it even went up a little! But she was happy, energetic at times, ate well and was loved so much. She was
15 years old when we lost her last October. She lived over 3 years with this and didn’t suffer until the last day. There were times… weeks and months we even forgot she was ill… we knew in the back of our minds that things could change at any time- and we were so thankful she stayed with us as long as she did. I sincerely hope Vashti will do the same for you. It sounds like she is content and happy. I know you both will not give up on her.
Dear Gwen — I am so sorry about the bad news, but concentrate on the GOOD news! Vashti isn’t worse, she’s happy, has better potassium, and gained half-a-pound!
And yes, the average cat sleeps 16 hours a day. Sleeping together, and waking together, is a form of love and intimacy between humans and their companion animals. I can just see Vashti bouncing between your and Laurence’s chests! :=)
Regarding Laurence’s comment — first, I had the opposite situation with my last kitty to go to the Rainbow Bridge. Barranca had a malignant tumor in her chest, which due to the crowding of both heart and lungs caused her to have trouble breathing. It just happened to be an extremely hot AND HUMID spell, and I don’t have A.C. I lay her in the bathtub to keep her cool, but worried so much about her comfort that it was a relief when I had to put her in the hospital for 3 days. I wanted cool weather for her but it was not to be. When I brought her home, she died the next morning…
I see Laurence’s comment more as an output of his “male brain” (looking at a practical angle) as opposed to your “female brain” (always ultra-nurturing). You’ve delineated how much he loves Vashti! Also, you may be experiencing anger more at FATE than at him — that Vashti may not be with you for as much time as you want.
But keep on keepin’ on, with all your great nursing! Be “in the moment”, with your loving husband, with Vashti, with Homer, and with Scarlett. It is a blessing that you can all be together so much!
God bless…..