Cat Prayers
Al went to Critical Care last Tuesday. Not two days ago ‘last Tuesday’, but over a week ago ‘last Tuesday’. He has been throwing up ever since.
The good news is, he hasn’t lost his desire to eat. The bad news is, he hasn’t lost his desire to eat. Trav and I are completely sleep deprived from constant requests to be fed – requests that begin five minutes after he pukes and do not stop until he’s scarfing down all of three bites.
Almost every moment of the last week has been devoted to feeding Al, medicating Al, missing work for Al, going to the vet with Al, being pestered for food by Al, praying and watching Al (‘keep it down, baby’), and cleaning puke out of the carpet for Al. Every. Two. Hours.
The longer it goes on, the worse it seems to get and the more we seem to mess up – I am now more convinced than ever of Trav’s theory that all this throwing up was caused by stopping his steriod medication abruptly. Something that wasn’t done intentionally, of course.
But from the very start of that first Critical Care visit, we had entire encyclopedias of information, possibilities and options thrown at our heads. This is how the large intestine works, this is how the small intestine works. These are the symptoms, these are the treatments. This is how much this costs, and that, and this. This is sort of how long it takes. Here are nine hundred techno-babble words. Maybe it’s his Pancreas. Maybe it’s IBD. Maybe it’s cancer. Maybe he’ll need B-12 shots and Myzoprene and Prednizone. Maybe he’ll need Chemo. Definetly needs an ultrasound we can do right now. Definetly needs a blood test we’ll send all the way to Texas A&M. Possibly needs an endoscopy. No more steriod shots, but wean him off the pills (even though they don’t work). We’ll give him a shot of this, fluids for that, and here, give him 1/2 a pill of this for vomiting for x days, then alternate, and keep adding the dusty yogurt stuff to his food.
Considering the 2-3 hours of sleep we’ve been working on per day, I don’t think it’s much of a surprise when I tell you I got confused and forgot to ask whether he should still have the steroid pills (also alternating), because hey, look at this, the vomiting meds say ‘don’t take anything with this’.
Al just wants to eat. He’s active and aware and drinking water and being himself in every other way – even his diarrhea (the original problem) resolved itself until just last night. But we know he’s slowly starving.
With every day that passes, with every episode of wretching, we lose it a little bit more. We wonder if it wouldn’t just be best to stop this madness. Then he prances up and looks at us with a bright, eager face that simply says ‘I’m hungry. Feed me and let’s go outside.’
Everything is still fine in his world. He just doesn’t understand why he can’t eat.
Before the blood test even came back, the vet pressed us very hard to choose whether or not we’d subject Al to an endoscopy. Something that could confirm whether he has IBD or cancer.
And we had a very, VERY hard time with that. We found it an impossible decision – especially with no results to go on and no advice from the vet. “These are the options and risks,” was all she was willing to say, “I can’t tell you what to do.”
True. But she IS the expert. She SEES the cases. She KNOWS the results. When people go to the doctor, they get evaluations AND recommendations. I don’t understand why vets can’t seem to do this, too.
So, we spent a lot of time going back and forth, crying and sighing, maybe-this-ing and what-if-ing. What is right? What is wrong? What will work? What is best?
In the midst of all this, we did get his blood work back. His pancreas is fine. But he does have a huge amounts of bacterial growth. Caused by either IBD or cancer.
In the end, we decided not to do the endoscopy. Because knowing whether he has cancer isn’t going to change the fact that he’s 12 and probably won’t survive it. What we DO know is that A) he can’t digest anything (including his anti-vomiting medicine) and B) we can treat him for IBD right the hell now. So we’re going to do that. Aggressively. And pray.
If only the vet would call to say when and how. Her day off was yesterday. And it’s been the longest day of Al’s life.
© 2009, jules.maas. All rights reserved.
Trav and Jules,
I feel so bad for you and Al. Wish I could do more than pray he gets better. Hugs to you and Pts to al.
Love mom
The equivalent for Mali is plain rice and boiled chicken. Maybe…? I dunno. Tough tough days. And I see that in between barfing and crying you are slowly taking over the world. World Dom might be my fault, but it all goes back to FB, and that’s your fault.
Anyways, you know you have our hopes for a good recovery for Al and let us know if we can do anything.
and thanks especially for the hugs!
You know, that’s exactly what I was thinking! But I could not for the life of me figure out the cat equivalent for sprite.
*gives hugs to the Humans and scratches to the kitty* What about just not feeding the cat at all for 24 hours? Does it help to let the system just calm down and then gradually re-introduce food – something simple like we would – ex. sprite, dry toast … just a thought from someone who knows nothing…