Hello all!
First of all, I'm so glad I stumbled across this forum, I had no idea such a large cat community existed! Everyone here seems very kind and supportive from what I've seen so far. I apologize for the length of this post, it’s just been so difficult and lonely having to deal with this and I didn’t know where else I could seek suggestions, empathy, or just anyone willing to listen that would really care about the issue.
I'm here because of Jack, my baby. I still call him a kitten even though he's 5 and a 1/2 years old. He was a rescue kitten from my vet's office and he was abandoned early in his life, so I think he has associated me with his birth mother. He still suckles. The suckling used to be a bit of a pain due to his little drool spots on my shirt, but then I discovered... Binkie! As long as it's fleece and it's on my lap or even in my general area, he will suckle on that. Some people discourage this behavior, but I could never bring myself to chastise him for this. Besides, it's incredibly soothing to have an animal in your presence that relaxed and that has that much trust in you and you alone. Another "side effect" of Jack's early separation from his mom is anxiety around other humans. Despite my attempts to socialize him at a young age, he is still the cat that bolts when someone comes to (or even near) the door. He only very recently started approaching my roommate of four years for lap time. It's hard to explain but maybe some of y'all really know what I'm talking about when I say he is my child. He was the one source of light in an otherwise incredibly dark time in my life and he has filled a hole inside of me. He was diagnosed with lymphoma last week, and I cannot imagine what I will do without him. I'm also worried for his "brother," that immediately took on an alpha/protective roll when Jack came home. They are almost inseparable. If jack isn't with me, he's giving and a bath to Andy or sleeping next to him. Below is the meat of the post. My caveat that it is quite long!
Hard choices:
Years ago, I had two other male cats, one I'd had since I was 18, and the other since I was 20 years old. They really saw me go through hell and back and never stopped loving me for it. The older one, Mokie was diagnosed with Leukemia and died at about age 13, and the younger one died at 11 years old from kidney disease. One I had to euthanize and one I did not. Losing these to cats was so painful, I said I wouldn't do it again (that lasted almost a year, lol). My point to bringing up my first two is that neither one of them seriously suffered from their illnesses. I'm mostly referring to physical pain/discomfort, or even not appearing to be as sick as they really were. I knew what was happening and what was going to happen when loopie got sick and the treatments didn't work. His kidneys stopped working. Euthanasia was the alternative to dying alone in a cage from heart failure a day or two from the day I got the phone call that the treatment had failed, or letting him die in my arms and showing him the love and dignity he deserved. There was no getting better. It was the hardest thing I had ever done, but the decision was not hard. I do not look back on my decision regretfully, and I still believe I did everything I could. Euthanasia was the right choice for his situation. My leukemia kitty had likely been infected from his birth mom, but the virus laid dormant throughout his life until around 11 years old. Both cats had always been checked yearly and vaccinated. He lived longer with his illness than anyone expected him to and he wasn't suffering or in pain for those two years after he had been diagnosed. The Doctor was able to lay out a pretty clear path of progression and could tell me what to expect in the future. I gave him daily medication mixed into his food; a steroid to slow the disease's progression and an antibiotic to counteract the weakened immune system due to the steroid. He was his old self up until the night before he died. I noticed what the vet had told me would be a symptom that he might not have a lot of time left, and that was the build up of fluid/pressure in his abdomen. He did exactly what she said he would do, he began to lie flat on his belly to relieve that pressure. I told myself I'd find him a vet in the morning, but I had known this was coming and I had just moved to California from Texas that week. I knew he had passed as soon as I saw his food bowl was untouched the next morning. He had a voracious appetite the last week of his life - like death was something his body was instinctively preparing for. I'm amazed at how intuitive cats are. He had one last check-up before j left Texas and my vet said he was known throughout the office as their "miracle kitty." He had already outlived the average cat diagnosed with this kind of leukemia and she was amazed that his blood cell count (a way to measure the disease's advancement) was staying steady. I'm not a religious person, but I know there are things beyond our understanding. I truly believe that the very end of Mokie's life was spent saving mine. He made the long, 2,300 mile trek with me in my Camry and never once complained or even tried to run away that entire trip. Three days later, I began looking for an apartment while staying in the garage apartment at my parent's house. Mokie died the day my mom got home and only two days after we arrived. He made sure I would be okay and then he was able to die. I know, I'm totally anthropomorphizing my cat, but how do you explain to someone something you just know to be true, despite your inability to prove it? Either way, he didn't suffer and I didn't have to make, "the hard decision," that we all dread. My mom was there to help me bury Mokie. He had died on my birthday and on the day I found a place to live. He is buried in Carmel, California, along the infamously beautiful Highway One and I still try to visit his grave every year when I go back to California for thanksgiving. Even today, my newest generation of males - the living ones - both sport Mokie's and Loopie's old spiky collars. Spiky cat collars are very hard to find, by the way! As hard as it was to lose my first generation, death didn't seem as terrifically cruel as it does now.
Jack:
Jack went to the vet for what I thought was a respiratory infection about 4-5 months ago. I became concerned because he also had a bloody nose. Despite multiple vet visits, his symptoms did not improve, but did not seem very bothersome either. I noticed that it was only his left side that was presenting with the symptoms. Bleeding and congestion was only present in his left nostril. He also started having sneezing fits or attacks. From the beginning of all of this, I had a fear in the back of my mind that I would force as far out of consciousness as I could, but it never went away. I knew something wasn't right and it wasn't really an upper respiratory infection. I'm not a doctor or a vet, but I do know that a cold doesn't only attack one side of the head. And the nosebleeds wouldn't stop. This new vet he was seeing suggested after Jack's third visit that I go back to my old vet for a second opinion, because he would otherwise have to get more aggressive and invasive to determine the cause of Jack's symptoms. My old vet, though farther away, treated only cats, so this was a logical step. I have great respect for that Doctor that told me, "I don't know." I've never had a Dr that was so genuine in his care and so honest about his own limitations. His willingness to tell me, "I don't know," really deepened my respect for him as a vet and as a person.
Time went on, and Jack's symptoms didn't go away, except for an occasional lessening of the nose bleeds and for a while, and not as much sneezing. But then his eye began to water and have some discharge. Only the left one. I assumed it was from his irritated left nostril that was causing him to sneeze, bleed, and be congested, much like humans experience when we get a cold. However, his eye became more of a problem later on, and once his eye started to cause him problems, everything sped up. Instead of his symptoms idling at a nominal speed of minor discomfort or a nuisance, they became more serious. The second vet (the one I initially adopted Jack from) said it was time to get aggressive and I agreed. As it turned out, his eye was irritated because there was something pushing against his socket. My worst fears were starting to come true and my denial was unraveling at lightening speed at this point. Keep in mind, his symptoms were pretty steady with a couple bouts of improvement for about 5 months. I'm now only talking about less than two weeks ago. I know this is long, but I want to paint the whole picture in order to hopefully seek answers or suggestions from this forum. The morning of Jack's next appointment, he started to wheeze. I assumed the congestion had gotten into his chest, but it was worse than that. I mentioned earlier that Jack has a lot of anxiety. My heart broke every time I had to take him to the vet because it caused him so much panic. I felt like he was going to stop trusting me since his vet trips were happening at least weekly or more now. I knew he had to go if he stood a chance, but it was so hard to do that do him. His symptoms would even worsen during and right after the veterinarian visits from the stress and anxiety they produced in him. He always somehow knew what days he was going to the vet, making it especially challenging to even locate him before an appointment. The doctor scheduled a biopsy and sedation appointment for Jack a couple of days later and sent me home with six, yes six(!), medications to give Jack, and one was supposed to be given four times a day. As you can imagine, Jack is now starting to feel pretty crappy. He's now being subjected to vet torture every few days, and I'm trying to shove a pill and/or syringe down his throat, or up his nose or in his eye. Six different ways. For the first time since we found each other, be began to avoid me. This did me in. We had always slept together, sat around the house together, and he was always overly dependent on my presence. He needed to see or hear me, or better yet, be laying on me, much of the time. Now he would shy away if I tried to touch him. Worst of all, these meds didn't seem to be helping and now he was really taking a medical nose dive. Two and a half days until the biopsy and I didn't think he or I would make it. He was uncomfortable, couldn't breath well, the wheezing. He did make it till the biopsy, but I was becoming desperate and I already knew what the biopsy was going to tell me. I just hoped it could be the lesser of the evils... a non-malignant tumor maybe? Would that make it operable? Something foreign lodged in his sinuses? This one was pretty weak, but, again, I was desperate. I went in for the consultation and the vet confirmed my greatest fear. He had cancer. It was a tumor causing most of his symptoms, nestled within the left sinus cavity in front of the frontal lobe of his brain. As the tumor began to grow, it was pressing against his wind pipe and throat, causing that awful wheezing sound and his vain attempts at dislodging something from his throat. It was causing the bloody noses and his eye to bulge from the pressure. His vision is still undamaged somehow, which was slightly comforting, and was one of the only two bits of good news I took from that consultation. I had stopped the medications about 24 hours earlier because I felt like they were doing no good and causing enough harm to Jack (and myself) and that he would be better off not taking them. My vet understood. The second bit of good news was all the meds would stop except for one new med to slow the tumor's growth, and a pain killer. He stayed at the vet overnight, and when he came back home I was shocked. Whatever they had given him less than 24 hours earlier was like magic! I've never seen a drug work so quickly it effectively in my life! After everything else, I almost felt relieved simply because he was his happy, playful, co-dependent self again. I knew this would not last, but I hoped it would last longer than it did. Three days later, it seemed to stop working as quickly as it had started working. I took him back to the vet and left feeling more hopeless and confused than ever. He still had the symptoms and, unlike Mokie, no one had any clear cut answers or suggestions of what to expect or look for, or even if he had days, weeks, or years left. I left the vet's office and cried so hard I got lost on my way home (I grew up here, so that's not easy to do).
Fast forward:
I’m just now resuming writing this post and even in the 5 hours that have passed since I wrote the last paragraph, Jack has gotten worse. It could be my imagination, but I’m pretty sure I can feel the tumor on his throat near his lymph node. I can definitely feel it and even see the slight bulge around his eye socket and left side of his face. I don’t know what I’m asking exactly, maybe I’m just wondering if anyone else here has any experience with a pet (or a human even) that has had a cancer in a similar location. I need to know if he sounds worse than he is or if he is slowly suffocating to death. How can I tell how much pain he is or is not in - this cannot be comfortable and I know he’s not feeling all that great even with the the pain killers. The tumor is pressing against his wind pipe and his eye socket, that much I know. The drugs they are giving him worked wonders for three whole days, and not much improvement (if any) has been observed since his symptoms reappeared about 4 days ago. This is absolutely killing me in ways I didn’t know was possible. I don’t want my own selfish need to ease my own suffering impact any decision I make for Jack. I just don’t know how to determine when, as my dad always said when he was dying from cancer, “the quality overrides the quantity [of life].” In many ways, this is all too similar to the days prior to my dad’s death. I felt like my family and I were sitting on a time bomb, not knowing how long it would be before he died but that it could be at any time. The fear and grief that enveloped the house for those seven days of hospice was palpable. During those seven days and the months that led up to it, the unbearable nature of the waiting had an odd side effect. This might sound cold and uncaring, but I almost wanted to “get it over with,” and see him complete the cycle that had been already laid out in front of him. He was not responsive for the last three or four days, but he was not in pain either. But the waiting! God, it was unbearable and I think anyone that has lost a loved one this way knows what I’m talking about. I didn’t think anything could be worse than that dark time, but I’m starting to think that in some ways this is much worse. My dad was functional and in relatively little pain until the end and then hospice stepped in and pain was no longer much of a factor. He was also able to talk to us and verbalize his wishes and fears and anything else so that we were all very comfortable with how to proceed (in a purely technical manner, nothing was emotionally comfortable about any of that process). We took comfort in knowing that we did exactly what my dad had asked of us and/or what he would want us to do. He had a living will, and we thankfully did not have to refer to that in terms of how to proceed, but it was another way of him expressing his wishes and desires for his own death. Jack can’t tell me what hurts or what he wants me to do next. Chemotherapy is an option, but my gut tells me this would not be the best course. I won’t make that decision absolutely without more information on that particular treatment, but I have my doubts.
My first two cats didn’t suffer much at all prior to their deaths either. This is the big difference with Jack now and the stories above. I’m almost ashamed to admit this, but this is why I feel like Jack’s illness and impending death is harder to handle than when my dad passed away. My dad died five years ago, and I still miss him so much, but I remember feeling sort of relieved when the process ended. That feeling was, of course, short lived. Those seven days are similar to what I’m going through now, except I’m seeing my cat suffer and feel helpless to even know how to help him or what my next course of action should be. I don’t even know if the terrible gurgling sounds that he’s making are from the tumor cutting off his breathing or from the sever congestion brought on by the havoc a tumor has on the sinuses when it is living and growing there. I don’t know what it is doing to his eye, or if his vision is being damaged. The doctor says so far, his vision has not been compromised, but if the pressure keeps building, I don’t see how that wouldn’t change. He wants to be his normal self, he tries to be, but he’s constantly trying to hock something up that he can’t get out of his throat. His appetite is still good, and he still begs way too often for the soft food that he likes (I’ve pretty much given him free reign on that front). I won’t go into all of the subtler symptoms, but they are things that I can notice bother him. Like my dad, I do believe in quality of life over quantity of life. The most frustrating part of this process is how ignorant I feel to his illness. All I know is that he has a tumor growing inside of his head basically. I don’t know the difference between lymphoma, and say, melanoma. I don’t know when I should call the vet again “if his symptoms worsen,” as stated in his aftercare packet, because he always looks and sounds so bad now! I want to have him in my life for as much time as possible, but I only see darkness and despair with both possibilities: Either he keeps on the way he’s going, and every second of every day my heart continues to break and I continue to do nothing but cry and weep and worry and feel anger at my own ignorance of what to do for him, or he continues this rapid deterioration and dies, leaving a gaping hole inside of me. I don’t know how I can bear either possibility. Both of these options are keeping me in a state of helplessness and despair. I can’t imagine going on like this and I can’t imagine going on without my baby.
I wrote this post purely out of desperation. I’ve been putting it off because of how emotionally draining and painful (and long!) I knew it would be. I am desperate in ways I didn’t know possible. I’m not expecting anyone here to be able to ease my burden or even answer my questions, but I would take much comfort at least in knowing that someone else has had to go through this (and survived), and how they did it. At this point, I don’t know if I can get through this. I don’t even know how to feel, but I do know that every feeling over these last couple of weeks have been the worst ones that a human being can endure.
I’m new here, and I’m already laying a really intense issue out on this forum, so I’m sorry for being such a downer and I’m sorry if I am asking too much too soon. Perhaps just typing this out will help a little bit.
If anyone would like, I can provide some updates on Jack as this process plays out, but I think y’all can see by now that this story will probably not have a happy ending.
Thank you for your time, and a special thank you for those of you that took the time to read a stranger’s post that is too long, and frankly, depressing. It means more to me than you guys could possibly know.
Love and light,
- Dionne (and Jack)
*** I've added some photos below, so you guys can really understand why this is so heartbreaking, because who could not fall in love with this cat??
A recent photo of my kiddo, before he started feeling so sick.
Those eyes! He won me over without a fight.
I told you! Inseparable.
Jack has always been the highlight of my coming home every day.
My suckle kitty!
A personal favorite of mine...
At first Andy was like, "Mom, what have you done??"
But it didn't take long for Jack to win over his heart too.
Thank you for taking the time to make it to the end of my post. I can't express my gratitude enough. can these two perfect kittens.
First of all, I'm so glad I stumbled across this forum, I had no idea such a large cat community existed! Everyone here seems very kind and supportive from what I've seen so far. I apologize for the length of this post, it’s just been so difficult and lonely having to deal with this and I didn’t know where else I could seek suggestions, empathy, or just anyone willing to listen that would really care about the issue.
I'm here because of Jack, my baby. I still call him a kitten even though he's 5 and a 1/2 years old. He was a rescue kitten from my vet's office and he was abandoned early in his life, so I think he has associated me with his birth mother. He still suckles. The suckling used to be a bit of a pain due to his little drool spots on my shirt, but then I discovered... Binkie! As long as it's fleece and it's on my lap or even in my general area, he will suckle on that. Some people discourage this behavior, but I could never bring myself to chastise him for this. Besides, it's incredibly soothing to have an animal in your presence that relaxed and that has that much trust in you and you alone. Another "side effect" of Jack's early separation from his mom is anxiety around other humans. Despite my attempts to socialize him at a young age, he is still the cat that bolts when someone comes to (or even near) the door. He only very recently started approaching my roommate of four years for lap time. It's hard to explain but maybe some of y'all really know what I'm talking about when I say he is my child. He was the one source of light in an otherwise incredibly dark time in my life and he has filled a hole inside of me. He was diagnosed with lymphoma last week, and I cannot imagine what I will do without him. I'm also worried for his "brother," that immediately took on an alpha/protective roll when Jack came home. They are almost inseparable. If jack isn't with me, he's giving and a bath to Andy or sleeping next to him. Below is the meat of the post. My caveat that it is quite long!
Hard choices:
Years ago, I had two other male cats, one I'd had since I was 18, and the other since I was 20 years old. They really saw me go through hell and back and never stopped loving me for it. The older one, Mokie was diagnosed with Leukemia and died at about age 13, and the younger one died at 11 years old from kidney disease. One I had to euthanize and one I did not. Losing these to cats was so painful, I said I wouldn't do it again (that lasted almost a year, lol). My point to bringing up my first two is that neither one of them seriously suffered from their illnesses. I'm mostly referring to physical pain/discomfort, or even not appearing to be as sick as they really were. I knew what was happening and what was going to happen when loopie got sick and the treatments didn't work. His kidneys stopped working. Euthanasia was the alternative to dying alone in a cage from heart failure a day or two from the day I got the phone call that the treatment had failed, or letting him die in my arms and showing him the love and dignity he deserved. There was no getting better. It was the hardest thing I had ever done, but the decision was not hard. I do not look back on my decision regretfully, and I still believe I did everything I could. Euthanasia was the right choice for his situation. My leukemia kitty had likely been infected from his birth mom, but the virus laid dormant throughout his life until around 11 years old. Both cats had always been checked yearly and vaccinated. He lived longer with his illness than anyone expected him to and he wasn't suffering or in pain for those two years after he had been diagnosed. The Doctor was able to lay out a pretty clear path of progression and could tell me what to expect in the future. I gave him daily medication mixed into his food; a steroid to slow the disease's progression and an antibiotic to counteract the weakened immune system due to the steroid. He was his old self up until the night before he died. I noticed what the vet had told me would be a symptom that he might not have a lot of time left, and that was the build up of fluid/pressure in his abdomen. He did exactly what she said he would do, he began to lie flat on his belly to relieve that pressure. I told myself I'd find him a vet in the morning, but I had known this was coming and I had just moved to California from Texas that week. I knew he had passed as soon as I saw his food bowl was untouched the next morning. He had a voracious appetite the last week of his life - like death was something his body was instinctively preparing for. I'm amazed at how intuitive cats are. He had one last check-up before j left Texas and my vet said he was known throughout the office as their "miracle kitty." He had already outlived the average cat diagnosed with this kind of leukemia and she was amazed that his blood cell count (a way to measure the disease's advancement) was staying steady. I'm not a religious person, but I know there are things beyond our understanding. I truly believe that the very end of Mokie's life was spent saving mine. He made the long, 2,300 mile trek with me in my Camry and never once complained or even tried to run away that entire trip. Three days later, I began looking for an apartment while staying in the garage apartment at my parent's house. Mokie died the day my mom got home and only two days after we arrived. He made sure I would be okay and then he was able to die. I know, I'm totally anthropomorphizing my cat, but how do you explain to someone something you just know to be true, despite your inability to prove it? Either way, he didn't suffer and I didn't have to make, "the hard decision," that we all dread. My mom was there to help me bury Mokie. He had died on my birthday and on the day I found a place to live. He is buried in Carmel, California, along the infamously beautiful Highway One and I still try to visit his grave every year when I go back to California for thanksgiving. Even today, my newest generation of males - the living ones - both sport Mokie's and Loopie's old spiky collars. Spiky cat collars are very hard to find, by the way! As hard as it was to lose my first generation, death didn't seem as terrifically cruel as it does now.
Jack:
Jack went to the vet for what I thought was a respiratory infection about 4-5 months ago. I became concerned because he also had a bloody nose. Despite multiple vet visits, his symptoms did not improve, but did not seem very bothersome either. I noticed that it was only his left side that was presenting with the symptoms. Bleeding and congestion was only present in his left nostril. He also started having sneezing fits or attacks. From the beginning of all of this, I had a fear in the back of my mind that I would force as far out of consciousness as I could, but it never went away. I knew something wasn't right and it wasn't really an upper respiratory infection. I'm not a doctor or a vet, but I do know that a cold doesn't only attack one side of the head. And the nosebleeds wouldn't stop. This new vet he was seeing suggested after Jack's third visit that I go back to my old vet for a second opinion, because he would otherwise have to get more aggressive and invasive to determine the cause of Jack's symptoms. My old vet, though farther away, treated only cats, so this was a logical step. I have great respect for that Doctor that told me, "I don't know." I've never had a Dr that was so genuine in his care and so honest about his own limitations. His willingness to tell me, "I don't know," really deepened my respect for him as a vet and as a person.
Time went on, and Jack's symptoms didn't go away, except for an occasional lessening of the nose bleeds and for a while, and not as much sneezing. But then his eye began to water and have some discharge. Only the left one. I assumed it was from his irritated left nostril that was causing him to sneeze, bleed, and be congested, much like humans experience when we get a cold. However, his eye became more of a problem later on, and once his eye started to cause him problems, everything sped up. Instead of his symptoms idling at a nominal speed of minor discomfort or a nuisance, they became more serious. The second vet (the one I initially adopted Jack from) said it was time to get aggressive and I agreed. As it turned out, his eye was irritated because there was something pushing against his socket. My worst fears were starting to come true and my denial was unraveling at lightening speed at this point. Keep in mind, his symptoms were pretty steady with a couple bouts of improvement for about 5 months. I'm now only talking about less than two weeks ago. I know this is long, but I want to paint the whole picture in order to hopefully seek answers or suggestions from this forum. The morning of Jack's next appointment, he started to wheeze. I assumed the congestion had gotten into his chest, but it was worse than that. I mentioned earlier that Jack has a lot of anxiety. My heart broke every time I had to take him to the vet because it caused him so much panic. I felt like he was going to stop trusting me since his vet trips were happening at least weekly or more now. I knew he had to go if he stood a chance, but it was so hard to do that do him. His symptoms would even worsen during and right after the veterinarian visits from the stress and anxiety they produced in him. He always somehow knew what days he was going to the vet, making it especially challenging to even locate him before an appointment. The doctor scheduled a biopsy and sedation appointment for Jack a couple of days later and sent me home with six, yes six(!), medications to give Jack, and one was supposed to be given four times a day. As you can imagine, Jack is now starting to feel pretty crappy. He's now being subjected to vet torture every few days, and I'm trying to shove a pill and/or syringe down his throat, or up his nose or in his eye. Six different ways. For the first time since we found each other, be began to avoid me. This did me in. We had always slept together, sat around the house together, and he was always overly dependent on my presence. He needed to see or hear me, or better yet, be laying on me, much of the time. Now he would shy away if I tried to touch him. Worst of all, these meds didn't seem to be helping and now he was really taking a medical nose dive. Two and a half days until the biopsy and I didn't think he or I would make it. He was uncomfortable, couldn't breath well, the wheezing. He did make it till the biopsy, but I was becoming desperate and I already knew what the biopsy was going to tell me. I just hoped it could be the lesser of the evils... a non-malignant tumor maybe? Would that make it operable? Something foreign lodged in his sinuses? This one was pretty weak, but, again, I was desperate. I went in for the consultation and the vet confirmed my greatest fear. He had cancer. It was a tumor causing most of his symptoms, nestled within the left sinus cavity in front of the frontal lobe of his brain. As the tumor began to grow, it was pressing against his wind pipe and throat, causing that awful wheezing sound and his vain attempts at dislodging something from his throat. It was causing the bloody noses and his eye to bulge from the pressure. His vision is still undamaged somehow, which was slightly comforting, and was one of the only two bits of good news I took from that consultation. I had stopped the medications about 24 hours earlier because I felt like they were doing no good and causing enough harm to Jack (and myself) and that he would be better off not taking them. My vet understood. The second bit of good news was all the meds would stop except for one new med to slow the tumor's growth, and a pain killer. He stayed at the vet overnight, and when he came back home I was shocked. Whatever they had given him less than 24 hours earlier was like magic! I've never seen a drug work so quickly it effectively in my life! After everything else, I almost felt relieved simply because he was his happy, playful, co-dependent self again. I knew this would not last, but I hoped it would last longer than it did. Three days later, it seemed to stop working as quickly as it had started working. I took him back to the vet and left feeling more hopeless and confused than ever. He still had the symptoms and, unlike Mokie, no one had any clear cut answers or suggestions of what to expect or look for, or even if he had days, weeks, or years left. I left the vet's office and cried so hard I got lost on my way home (I grew up here, so that's not easy to do).
Fast forward:
I’m just now resuming writing this post and even in the 5 hours that have passed since I wrote the last paragraph, Jack has gotten worse. It could be my imagination, but I’m pretty sure I can feel the tumor on his throat near his lymph node. I can definitely feel it and even see the slight bulge around his eye socket and left side of his face. I don’t know what I’m asking exactly, maybe I’m just wondering if anyone else here has any experience with a pet (or a human even) that has had a cancer in a similar location. I need to know if he sounds worse than he is or if he is slowly suffocating to death. How can I tell how much pain he is or is not in - this cannot be comfortable and I know he’s not feeling all that great even with the the pain killers. The tumor is pressing against his wind pipe and his eye socket, that much I know. The drugs they are giving him worked wonders for three whole days, and not much improvement (if any) has been observed since his symptoms reappeared about 4 days ago. This is absolutely killing me in ways I didn’t know was possible. I don’t want my own selfish need to ease my own suffering impact any decision I make for Jack. I just don’t know how to determine when, as my dad always said when he was dying from cancer, “the quality overrides the quantity [of life].” In many ways, this is all too similar to the days prior to my dad’s death. I felt like my family and I were sitting on a time bomb, not knowing how long it would be before he died but that it could be at any time. The fear and grief that enveloped the house for those seven days of hospice was palpable. During those seven days and the months that led up to it, the unbearable nature of the waiting had an odd side effect. This might sound cold and uncaring, but I almost wanted to “get it over with,” and see him complete the cycle that had been already laid out in front of him. He was not responsive for the last three or four days, but he was not in pain either. But the waiting! God, it was unbearable and I think anyone that has lost a loved one this way knows what I’m talking about. I didn’t think anything could be worse than that dark time, but I’m starting to think that in some ways this is much worse. My dad was functional and in relatively little pain until the end and then hospice stepped in and pain was no longer much of a factor. He was also able to talk to us and verbalize his wishes and fears and anything else so that we were all very comfortable with how to proceed (in a purely technical manner, nothing was emotionally comfortable about any of that process). We took comfort in knowing that we did exactly what my dad had asked of us and/or what he would want us to do. He had a living will, and we thankfully did not have to refer to that in terms of how to proceed, but it was another way of him expressing his wishes and desires for his own death. Jack can’t tell me what hurts or what he wants me to do next. Chemotherapy is an option, but my gut tells me this would not be the best course. I won’t make that decision absolutely without more information on that particular treatment, but I have my doubts.
My first two cats didn’t suffer much at all prior to their deaths either. This is the big difference with Jack now and the stories above. I’m almost ashamed to admit this, but this is why I feel like Jack’s illness and impending death is harder to handle than when my dad passed away. My dad died five years ago, and I still miss him so much, but I remember feeling sort of relieved when the process ended. That feeling was, of course, short lived. Those seven days are similar to what I’m going through now, except I’m seeing my cat suffer and feel helpless to even know how to help him or what my next course of action should be. I don’t even know if the terrible gurgling sounds that he’s making are from the tumor cutting off his breathing or from the sever congestion brought on by the havoc a tumor has on the sinuses when it is living and growing there. I don’t know what it is doing to his eye, or if his vision is being damaged. The doctor says so far, his vision has not been compromised, but if the pressure keeps building, I don’t see how that wouldn’t change. He wants to be his normal self, he tries to be, but he’s constantly trying to hock something up that he can’t get out of his throat. His appetite is still good, and he still begs way too often for the soft food that he likes (I’ve pretty much given him free reign on that front). I won’t go into all of the subtler symptoms, but they are things that I can notice bother him. Like my dad, I do believe in quality of life over quantity of life. The most frustrating part of this process is how ignorant I feel to his illness. All I know is that he has a tumor growing inside of his head basically. I don’t know the difference between lymphoma, and say, melanoma. I don’t know when I should call the vet again “if his symptoms worsen,” as stated in his aftercare packet, because he always looks and sounds so bad now! I want to have him in my life for as much time as possible, but I only see darkness and despair with both possibilities: Either he keeps on the way he’s going, and every second of every day my heart continues to break and I continue to do nothing but cry and weep and worry and feel anger at my own ignorance of what to do for him, or he continues this rapid deterioration and dies, leaving a gaping hole inside of me. I don’t know how I can bear either possibility. Both of these options are keeping me in a state of helplessness and despair. I can’t imagine going on like this and I can’t imagine going on without my baby.
I wrote this post purely out of desperation. I’ve been putting it off because of how emotionally draining and painful (and long!) I knew it would be. I am desperate in ways I didn’t know possible. I’m not expecting anyone here to be able to ease my burden or even answer my questions, but I would take much comfort at least in knowing that someone else has had to go through this (and survived), and how they did it. At this point, I don’t know if I can get through this. I don’t even know how to feel, but I do know that every feeling over these last couple of weeks have been the worst ones that a human being can endure.
I’m new here, and I’m already laying a really intense issue out on this forum, so I’m sorry for being such a downer and I’m sorry if I am asking too much too soon. Perhaps just typing this out will help a little bit.
If anyone would like, I can provide some updates on Jack as this process plays out, but I think y’all can see by now that this story will probably not have a happy ending.
Thank you for your time, and a special thank you for those of you that took the time to read a stranger’s post that is too long, and frankly, depressing. It means more to me than you guys could possibly know.
Love and light,
- Dionne (and Jack)
*** I've added some photos below, so you guys can really understand why this is so heartbreaking, because who could not fall in love with this cat??
A recent photo of my kiddo, before he started feeling so sick.
Those eyes! He won me over without a fight.
I told you! Inseparable.
Jack has always been the highlight of my coming home every day.
My suckle kitty!
A personal favorite of mine...
At first Andy was like, "Mom, what have you done??"
But it didn't take long for Jack to win over his heart too.
Thank you for taking the time to make it to the end of my post. I can't express my gratitude enough. can these two perfect kittens.