Well, it has been a long time since I posted or even visited TCS. I'm not sure where to even begin, but so much has happened and it's resulted in my not wanting to be here. It was no ones fault, but it was painful to even think about this site. And, even now, I am afraid of being judged harshly. Possibly, because I judge myself in such a way. But, I want to be back - as hard as it is.
So many of you probably either don't know me or don't remember me. This past year was the most painful and difficult year that I can remember. Thanks to my eating disorder, I lost so much. In the beginning, I did treatment full time and work full time. I was in a partial hospitalization program from April to the end of June - with just a couple of weeks stepped down into a lesser program. Quickly, they determined that I was too sick and they informed me that I had to go to a residential facility. I took FMLA, which was the hardest thing I ever had to do since it meant possibly losing the job I love, and spent 6 weeks in Arizona trying to get well. I muddled through, but wasn't ready to leave when my time came. Insurance decides, unfortunately, not your treatment team. I returned home and entered a more structured day treatment program and spent my time there from the end of August to mid-December, when I stepped down, again, to a lesser program. In that time, I returned to work in September - only part time as my schedule for treatment impeded on my schedule for work. I lost my benefits and I had to pay for everything out of pocket. They hired someone in my place and, while I knew I was guaranteed a job due to FMLA, it was unclear what would happen as they could have changed my position or asked me to go to another location (which would be impossible since I cannot drive right now). In that time, my roommate began struggling with her own demons and it was decided that I would move out as of January 1st. Due to the move and my new location, I couldn't afford my Cobra insurance and had no transportation to treatment. So, against medical advice, I left. I can see my therapist again once my time commitment for that program is up. That will bring me to March. I'm still struggling, but I am getting by - with some times being far better than other times. In the end, I did move to a small apartment in a nice Cleveland suburb - right by the lake. But, even though things seemed idyllic, they weren't. Not by a long shot.
In November, one of my cats, Cassidy, developed strange symptoms. She was urinating outside of the litter box and her urine was tinged with blood. She was also vomiting and losing weight...very quickly. I work for a veterinary clinic and so I brought her in immediately. Her urinalysis was negative and so was her urine culture. Her bloodwork was within normal limits. We tried medication despite the negative results to no avail. We did radiographs and even an ultrasound. They did find an abdominal mass and I immediately had her in surgery for it to be removed. We sent it out for consult and it was determined to be benign. After her recovery, she began eating well and gaining weight. Her urinary issues persisted, but were less of an issue following the surgery. I thought we would get past this. However, she developed the same symptoms as before in mid-December - only, this time, they seemed to manifest more quickly and her condition deteriorated rapidly. We did additional testing and another mass was found. But, despite scheduling her surgery only a few days out, she passed away in her sleep on December 21st. Obviously, I was devastated. The other cats were confused and everything felt off kilter. It was wrong to not have Cassidy in my life every day. I hated myself for not taking action sooner. But, it only got worse from there. On December 23rd, Finnegan, another one of my cats, started to have seizures. I rushed him to the vet and we were able to get the seizures to stop. But, that evening, while we were at the emergency clinic (he was hospitalized, I was sleeping on a chair in the waiting room), he began to seize again. And, despite all of the medication in the world, we could not get the seizures to stop. I had to make the hard decision to let him be at peace and he was put to sleep that night, in my arms. There was no known cause for his seizures - no accidental toxin ingestion, no illness that we were aware of, no malignancies in his brain. It was heartbreaking to go home without him. I miss my babies to the end of the world and back, but I know that they're together at the Rainbow Bridge.
I moved on January 6th. I brought my dog, Madeline (my other dog, Mackenzie was always going to stay with my roommate as she and Madeline do not get along and, if together, will fight, draw blood, and worse), and my three remaining cats, Delaney, Emory, and Guinness. I thought we would do our best to move on from what had happened and start our new life together. I was wrong. Immediately after the move, it became obvious that the cats could not tolerate all of the changes they had experienced in the last month. Delaney quickly developed a urinary tract infection that was resistant to medication and Emory was licking herself raw. No one was eating, no one was drinking. Guinness handled the move best, but even he began to withdraw and urinate out of the box. I could have dealt with all of that, but I was so afraid that I was going to lose my babies. Everyone was sick and stressed - myself included. After trying to manage for about a week or so and watching my loves suffer, I made the decision to call my roommate and ask if she would take them. It was an agonizing decision, but I could not watch my cats deteriorate as they were. Once returned to the home they had always known, things improved tenfold. Delaney's urinary issues subsided, Emory's fur started growing back in, and Guinness stopped vomiting and urinating outside of his litter box. They were calm - it was obvious that they were where they needed to be. And, even though I wanted to try again, it wouldn't have been fair to them. The loss of Cass and Finn was hard on us all and the move just magnified everyone's grief and fear. My roommate has promised to keep my babies forever and I see them, at least, three times per week. I go to my roommate's house to see Mackenzie, Delaney, Emory, and Guinness and we all play and cuddle with one another. It is our special time and it is healing all of our hearts. They are doing amazingly well and, while it has been a major struggle in so many ways, I am getting through each day a little bit stronger and more whole than before.
That brings me to the present. I greatly miss my feline companions. And, Maddie, who has always been around cats, seems lost a bit as well. I had planned to take Guinness back, but everyone is doing so well that I can't see causing further stress. And, there was one more issue. A few weeks after I brought my babies back to their forever home, I received a notice from my apartment's management company stating that they needed to see vet records to determine whether my pets were spayed or neutered, up-to-date on their rabies vaccine, and, for the cats, declawed. I called them immediately and informed them that my dog could not receive the rabies vaccine (or any vaccine, for that matter) due to a very severe medical allergy. I also mailed, faxed, and e-mailed information about declawing and why it did not serve the purpose of protecting property as they management thought. I sent everything I could find, informed them about nail caps, and crusaded despite my lack of a cat in the home. Unfortunately, while the apartment manager was swayed, the company she works for was not. Had I known that this was an issue for them, I would have backed out of my lease - I would never have declawed any of my cats. As for my dog, I had to pay to have a titer done to ensure that she was protected from the rabies virus. In the end, I decided to stop fighting, though I will still periodically send e-mails and letters about the dangers of declawing. I do love my apartment. It's affordable, in a lovely neighborhood, is safe, and is close to work. Madeline is thriving here and I have come to see my apartment as my home. Our home. So, I made a decision. Once I was able to return back to work full time, I would explore the option of adopting a cat from the shelter or local humane society who was already declawed. I don't agree with declawing, but I do believe greatly in rescue. I wasn't sure when that would happen or if I'd even be able to adopt after the sadness I had experienced, but that time came sooner rather than later.
To be continued...
So many of you probably either don't know me or don't remember me. This past year was the most painful and difficult year that I can remember. Thanks to my eating disorder, I lost so much. In the beginning, I did treatment full time and work full time. I was in a partial hospitalization program from April to the end of June - with just a couple of weeks stepped down into a lesser program. Quickly, they determined that I was too sick and they informed me that I had to go to a residential facility. I took FMLA, which was the hardest thing I ever had to do since it meant possibly losing the job I love, and spent 6 weeks in Arizona trying to get well. I muddled through, but wasn't ready to leave when my time came. Insurance decides, unfortunately, not your treatment team. I returned home and entered a more structured day treatment program and spent my time there from the end of August to mid-December, when I stepped down, again, to a lesser program. In that time, I returned to work in September - only part time as my schedule for treatment impeded on my schedule for work. I lost my benefits and I had to pay for everything out of pocket. They hired someone in my place and, while I knew I was guaranteed a job due to FMLA, it was unclear what would happen as they could have changed my position or asked me to go to another location (which would be impossible since I cannot drive right now). In that time, my roommate began struggling with her own demons and it was decided that I would move out as of January 1st. Due to the move and my new location, I couldn't afford my Cobra insurance and had no transportation to treatment. So, against medical advice, I left. I can see my therapist again once my time commitment for that program is up. That will bring me to March. I'm still struggling, but I am getting by - with some times being far better than other times. In the end, I did move to a small apartment in a nice Cleveland suburb - right by the lake. But, even though things seemed idyllic, they weren't. Not by a long shot.
In November, one of my cats, Cassidy, developed strange symptoms. She was urinating outside of the litter box and her urine was tinged with blood. She was also vomiting and losing weight...very quickly. I work for a veterinary clinic and so I brought her in immediately. Her urinalysis was negative and so was her urine culture. Her bloodwork was within normal limits. We tried medication despite the negative results to no avail. We did radiographs and even an ultrasound. They did find an abdominal mass and I immediately had her in surgery for it to be removed. We sent it out for consult and it was determined to be benign. After her recovery, she began eating well and gaining weight. Her urinary issues persisted, but were less of an issue following the surgery. I thought we would get past this. However, she developed the same symptoms as before in mid-December - only, this time, they seemed to manifest more quickly and her condition deteriorated rapidly. We did additional testing and another mass was found. But, despite scheduling her surgery only a few days out, she passed away in her sleep on December 21st. Obviously, I was devastated. The other cats were confused and everything felt off kilter. It was wrong to not have Cassidy in my life every day. I hated myself for not taking action sooner. But, it only got worse from there. On December 23rd, Finnegan, another one of my cats, started to have seizures. I rushed him to the vet and we were able to get the seizures to stop. But, that evening, while we were at the emergency clinic (he was hospitalized, I was sleeping on a chair in the waiting room), he began to seize again. And, despite all of the medication in the world, we could not get the seizures to stop. I had to make the hard decision to let him be at peace and he was put to sleep that night, in my arms. There was no known cause for his seizures - no accidental toxin ingestion, no illness that we were aware of, no malignancies in his brain. It was heartbreaking to go home without him. I miss my babies to the end of the world and back, but I know that they're together at the Rainbow Bridge.
I moved on January 6th. I brought my dog, Madeline (my other dog, Mackenzie was always going to stay with my roommate as she and Madeline do not get along and, if together, will fight, draw blood, and worse), and my three remaining cats, Delaney, Emory, and Guinness. I thought we would do our best to move on from what had happened and start our new life together. I was wrong. Immediately after the move, it became obvious that the cats could not tolerate all of the changes they had experienced in the last month. Delaney quickly developed a urinary tract infection that was resistant to medication and Emory was licking herself raw. No one was eating, no one was drinking. Guinness handled the move best, but even he began to withdraw and urinate out of the box. I could have dealt with all of that, but I was so afraid that I was going to lose my babies. Everyone was sick and stressed - myself included. After trying to manage for about a week or so and watching my loves suffer, I made the decision to call my roommate and ask if she would take them. It was an agonizing decision, but I could not watch my cats deteriorate as they were. Once returned to the home they had always known, things improved tenfold. Delaney's urinary issues subsided, Emory's fur started growing back in, and Guinness stopped vomiting and urinating outside of his litter box. They were calm - it was obvious that they were where they needed to be. And, even though I wanted to try again, it wouldn't have been fair to them. The loss of Cass and Finn was hard on us all and the move just magnified everyone's grief and fear. My roommate has promised to keep my babies forever and I see them, at least, three times per week. I go to my roommate's house to see Mackenzie, Delaney, Emory, and Guinness and we all play and cuddle with one another. It is our special time and it is healing all of our hearts. They are doing amazingly well and, while it has been a major struggle in so many ways, I am getting through each day a little bit stronger and more whole than before.
That brings me to the present. I greatly miss my feline companions. And, Maddie, who has always been around cats, seems lost a bit as well. I had planned to take Guinness back, but everyone is doing so well that I can't see causing further stress. And, there was one more issue. A few weeks after I brought my babies back to their forever home, I received a notice from my apartment's management company stating that they needed to see vet records to determine whether my pets were spayed or neutered, up-to-date on their rabies vaccine, and, for the cats, declawed. I called them immediately and informed them that my dog could not receive the rabies vaccine (or any vaccine, for that matter) due to a very severe medical allergy. I also mailed, faxed, and e-mailed information about declawing and why it did not serve the purpose of protecting property as they management thought. I sent everything I could find, informed them about nail caps, and crusaded despite my lack of a cat in the home. Unfortunately, while the apartment manager was swayed, the company she works for was not. Had I known that this was an issue for them, I would have backed out of my lease - I would never have declawed any of my cats. As for my dog, I had to pay to have a titer done to ensure that she was protected from the rabies virus. In the end, I decided to stop fighting, though I will still periodically send e-mails and letters about the dangers of declawing. I do love my apartment. It's affordable, in a lovely neighborhood, is safe, and is close to work. Madeline is thriving here and I have come to see my apartment as my home. Our home. So, I made a decision. Once I was able to return back to work full time, I would explore the option of adopting a cat from the shelter or local humane society who was already declawed. I don't agree with declawing, but I do believe greatly in rescue. I wasn't sure when that would happen or if I'd even be able to adopt after the sadness I had experienced, but that time came sooner rather than later.
To be continued...