Thursday, April 22, 2004
All of our phone conversations this week have been about what we should do for Lucy. I don't know if there is a right answer. There are just answers and we may never know if one was right or not.
I don't want to keep cutting out parts of her in a vain attempt to keep her alive until there's nothing left. But I don't want the experience with Rosie to make me give up on her too soon. The thing is, if the cancer has spread to one organ, it has more than likely spread to others as well. But what if the cancer is contained and can be easily removed? (What are the chances of lucking out like that?)
I told Denny that this is the only life Lucy will have and I don't want to make a decision based on what is easiest for us. As if any of this is easy.
And yes, I know she will live again but this is the only life she will share with us--our sweet orange-and-white girl. I believe that there will be a reunion, somewhere out of time. I believe the bonds of love are not severed by death. We will meet again but this time now is what we have to share in this life.
It rends my heart to see her so sad and depressed, crawling behind the coal stove as if to hide from the pain. I miss the firm bump of her head against my hand when I pet her, her conversational meow, her unfailing good spirits. She has always been such a sweet-natured creature.
I have started her on a daily dose of Metacam, and it seems to help. Dots said fluids might be helpful, too. The blood work didn't come back decisive one way or the other but there were disturbing indications, including an elevation in kidney levels and active corona virus.
Both Denny and I are leaning toward the "lets just make her as comfortable as we can until we can't any more, then let her go" option. I want to do the best we can for Lucy, but there is only so much we can do. If it was just a matter of money or effort or time--or love--we could save her. But it is a matter of illness and inevitability.
It is hard to believe that age is nibbling away at our kittens...
I know that much is said about the connection that human twins have, so I wonder if a similar bond holds true in littermates. Do kittens or puppies feel a special affinity toward those they shared the womb with? How will Frieda and Cissy react when their sister is no longer here?
There is no doubt they will miss her. The three have been a sort of mini-pride in our cat family--socializing, sleeping and grooming together. If one is threatened and raises a call, her siblings are quick to respond. Even now, Frieda and Ciss seem to be looking for Lucy when she has put herself away in some quiet spot. I don't think I am anthropomorphizing to say they seem concerned about her.
She will leave a hole in more than two hearts.