(no subject)
Thank you to everyone who's offered condolences on the Ivan situation in my last entry. I don't really have it in me to thank everyone individually, because it's a lot easier for me to fuss over how much he's eating and figure out how to manage his pain meds than to think about how he's going to die from this. Your comments and support have meant the world to me, so...thank you. I really do appreciate it, even if I'm not doing so well with talking about it one-on-one with people.
I'd been steeling myself for what the oncologist might say, but it was still pretty devastating to hear just how unsuitable the various treatment options were. Basically, they would make him feel really, really awful, the constant car and vet trips would make him unhappy and stress him out, and -- because of the type of cancer he has -- the treatments probably wouldn't work anyway. I can't do that to him. I want him to be happy and comfortable in the time he has left, not sick and miserable and struggling.
The oncologist wasn't really sure how long he has, because it largely depends on how quickly the tumor grows and how long he's able to keep eating. Now that he's not going to the vet every other day, he's back to his usual dorky self and eating horse-sized portions of soft food, which is something I'm encouraging. He's getting an anti-inflammatory drug every day, and heavy-duty opiate painkillers when he needs 'em. His medication needs will probably evolve as he get sicker, but at the moment he's doing well and that's the important thing. The cat he is right now -- the goofy, lovable one who headbutts me all the time for attention and keeps trying to flop down on my computer keyboard because it's in my lap and that's where HE wants to be -- this is the cat I want him to be for as long as he's physically able. He'll let me know when he's ready to go.
As difficult as all of this is...even if I'd known, years ago, that Ivan would eventually develop untreatable cancer and probably wouldn't live to see his eighth or ninth birthday, I still would've adopted him without hesitation. He's the best cat I've ever had, and I'm just so glad I got to be his person. I'm going to cherish the time I have left with him.
And if this means letting him sleep on my keyboard when I'm trying to work, well...so be it. Oh, cat. ILU.
I'd been steeling myself for what the oncologist might say, but it was still pretty devastating to hear just how unsuitable the various treatment options were. Basically, they would make him feel really, really awful, the constant car and vet trips would make him unhappy and stress him out, and -- because of the type of cancer he has -- the treatments probably wouldn't work anyway. I can't do that to him. I want him to be happy and comfortable in the time he has left, not sick and miserable and struggling.
The oncologist wasn't really sure how long he has, because it largely depends on how quickly the tumor grows and how long he's able to keep eating. Now that he's not going to the vet every other day, he's back to his usual dorky self and eating horse-sized portions of soft food, which is something I'm encouraging. He's getting an anti-inflammatory drug every day, and heavy-duty opiate painkillers when he needs 'em. His medication needs will probably evolve as he get sicker, but at the moment he's doing well and that's the important thing. The cat he is right now -- the goofy, lovable one who headbutts me all the time for attention and keeps trying to flop down on my computer keyboard because it's in my lap and that's where HE wants to be -- this is the cat I want him to be for as long as he's physically able. He'll let me know when he's ready to go.
As difficult as all of this is...even if I'd known, years ago, that Ivan would eventually develop untreatable cancer and probably wouldn't live to see his eighth or ninth birthday, I still would've adopted him without hesitation. He's the best cat I've ever had, and I'm just so glad I got to be his person. I'm going to cherish the time I have left with him.
And if this means letting him sleep on my keyboard when I'm trying to work, well...so be it. Oh, cat. ILU.