Another update on Kestra

I saw the vet today who told me that what I found on Kestra's abdomen were burns. He said he reviewed the surgery log but couldn't see how she could have gotten burned. Since I haven't been setting her on fire and I'm pretty sure she doesn't smoke (although that poor scratchy meow she has now makes it sound like she's been lighting up for forty years), I'm still fairly certain this happened during the surgery and no one noticed it. (Plus the vet didn't charge me for the visit, which makes me even more suspicious.) Anyway, that's actually remarkably awesome news. First, because the burns are healing very well. Second, because that means it is quite possible that the surgery removed all the cancer. Since all her blood tests came back fine and the chest x-ray showed that it hadn't metastasized to that area, I am thinking that they removed the malignant tumor (along with the lymph node itself) and probably got it all. Hopefully, that is the case. I will still be checking her frequently for other growths, but it is within the realm of possibility that she will live symptom-free for many, many years to come. (Of course, just to add a dose of reality here, it could also mean that she will keep developing tumors and there will come a day that I will have to make a very hard decision about her on-going treatment.) But, luckily, I don't have to think about that right now.

It's funny, since I had been giving her her antibiotics twice a day she grew to really dislike that time of day. I thought I was being clever when I gave her her medicine right after I got home since this is when she is her most clingy - rubbing my ankles, tripping me up, generally quite annoying. Wednesday was her last dosage. I came home from work and she was nowhere to be found. Well, that's not true, I found her hiding behind the futon in a very hard to reach place. But it occurred to me, as I was frantically searching my house and all her favorite hiding places (the futon not being one of her usual spots to go), I realized how much I missed her greeting me when I came home, even when it annoyed me. I'm sure I will be loving many things about her in the months and years to come that have previously annoyed me. Well, okay, not the chronic puking, that still doesn't make me happy -- but, "some cats are just pukers" -- to quote my regular vet.

Update on Kestra

The test results came back and it is definitely Lymphoma (cancer). Some of you already know that I found another mass on her abdomen last night. It was different from the other one as it was on the skin, not subcutaneous. Tonight after work, I found a smaller one next to the one I found last night. I am hoping I just missed it last night and they are not growing this fast. I sent a picture of it to the vet and I am waiting to hear back from him. I already turned down chemotherapy since it cost over $3000, would take two years (or however long the cat has to live) and didn't have a high percentage of working. I'm in wait-and-see mode right now. (oh joy.) I have no idea how much time she has left. The good news is that she doesn't appear to be in any pain.

Why do we do this to ourselves? We open our hearts and let them in knowing we will outlive them and hoping we don't have to see them waste away before they go. She 9 years old - not terribly old, but certainly not a kitten. Hopefully, she will live a lot longer and not require much medical intervention. I would hate to have to put her through surgery after surgery to remove tumors. I will continue to update as I know more, mostly because it's good for me to focus my attention on writing a blog than on losing a third cat within six months.

The Year of the Cat?

If you've read my blog in the past six months, you are probably aware of the heart-wrenching saga of Mackenzie and the unfortunate passing of Sappho at the end of August. Well, just before Christmas I discovered a lump on Kestra's neck. Not a tiny little "hey could that be a pimple" lump, but a huge, honking "WTF!" subcutaneous lump. After a visit to the vet (ca-ching) and an unsuccessful run of antibiotics, it was determined that it was a growth and she needed to see a specialist. This past Monday I saw the specialist (ca-ching)who theorized that it was lymphoma (cancer of the lymph nodes, for those lucky enough not to be familiar with the term) and it needed to be removed. I agreed with the "needed to be removed" part, however, I am still skeptical about the lymphoma part. My skepticism doesn't come from all my years of veterinary training and practice, as one might suspect a dissenting opinion against a respected and experienced veterinarian might come from; but instead from a higher authority: my mother's intuition. Let me clarify. I don't think MY mother has anything to do with my belief here. First, let me explain: Lymphoma is a systemic cancer that would most likely require chemotherapy and all sorts of follow-up (ca-ching) that would make Kes even more sick while probably only extending her life by a few months--maybe more. And that's the best case scenario for a diagnosis of Lymphoma. However, I just know in my gut that it's not some raging cancer spreading through my cat. Here is why I believe this. First, the only symptom she has had so far is the lump. All blood work has come back normal, chest x-rays came back normal (no spreading, no other lumps), her behavior (including eating and litterbox habits) are all normal. She hasn't lost weight (and, in fact, gained an ounce in the week between her two initial vet visits). There is no unusual vomiting (which is to say that the usual amount of vomiting/hairballs hasn't changed). Of course, I knew that this tumor (round cell tumor according to the aspirate they took from it) had to be removed (ca-ching) and that was done today. She came through with flying colors and we will find out next week whether the experienced and very personable veterinarian was right about the tumor or whether the Universe is playing some mean trick on me and I have called its bluff.

One quick note. I had to include a photo of the post-op Kes since my sister and mom have been teasing me mercilessly about how ugly Kestra is and how, if she has to go through chemotherapy, she will look even uglier without hair. I must yield that she is not about to win any beauty contests with her current hair cut, but she is alive and seemingly well and that is good enough for me.

One more note. I have added some really gross pictures to my flickr page if anyone is interested in seeing more surgery pics of Kes (and even two from when I had my hand surgery in 2002). Enjoy!

There are a Million Things to Be

Last November, just before all the holidays kicked in, I made the reluctant decision to get cable TV (which then expanded into the internet/phone/tv bundle -- you know, to save money). I must admit that having been without cable TV for two years (as a conscious decision, rather than out of necessity), I had completely forgotten what I was missing. In fact, I didn't realize I was missing anything since I was able to watch my favorite television programs online at a variety of sites including cable and network websites. I still catch missed episodes on sites such as surfthechannel.com and alluc.org. And, of course, I HAVE to watch the new episodes of Doctor Who when they air in the UK rather than wait a whole year for them to cross the pond. (I think my nerdiness in that area is well-established.)

One of the things that I missed the most about having access to a wide range of useless programming was the comfort it brings me when I am home sick. Sadly, just after Thanksgiving, I was able to realize this benefit. I'm not exactly sure where the comfort lies. It could be the sheer distraction of a Comedy Central movie that doesn't require much (if any) thought. Perhaps it is the engrossment in the National Geographic channel programming about the solar system or our own planet (not to mention Cesar Millan, The Dog Whisperer -- my new obsession even though I will probably never own a dog). It may be the nostalgia of watching Match Game or M*A*S*H. Whatever it is, I am glad to have it back. Of course, this has lead me into some very bad habits even when I am NOT recovering from a nasty gastrointestinal bug. Take today for instance. It snowed. A lot. Not so much that the world (or even my county) came to a screeching halt, but enough that once I saw it I decided to hibernate. Yes, all day in front of the TV. To be fair, this plays out in reality as the TV being on and me running up and down the stairs through the house doing chores or small projects. (One benefit of having arthritis is the physical inability to sit in one place for any length of time.) Still, I managed to watch two movies that got me both nostalgic and hopeful in regards to my love life. (Yes, I know. WHAT love life?)

The first movie I watched was Marty with Ernest Borgnine. If you've never seen this movie, add it to your Netflix queue straight away. It's the story of a thirty-five year old unmarried Italian butcher living in New York City with his mother. Everyone (especially his mother) is nagging him about finding a girl and, after a particularly disappointing brush-off from a woman, he figures he'll just be a bachelor his whole life (remind you of anyone?--Thank you Craig Ferguson). I won't spoil the movie for anyone. I'm not one of those types of people who will say "Hey, is this the movie where the father dies in the end?" However, I am also not naive enough to think that my readers can't figure out the classic Hollywood formula all on your own. (And there is one reader in particular who I am certain knows the ending.) Suffice it to say, the best line in the movie is "You know, us dogs aren't really so much of the dogs that we think we are."

The other movie I watched today is one of my all-time favorite movies: Harold & Maude. I think that there are movies and characters that I (and probably most people) internalize and keep as part of what makes me who I am to the world. This movie is one of those for me (as is "Philadelphia Story" with Katherine Hepburn, Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart). I haven't decided whether this trait makes me less of myself or more; but I suppose, like with anything else, it is simply just another part of who I am. The fact that the part comes from somewhere outside of me, rather than some internal revelation, shouldn't make a difference. If you're reading this and you know me very well, you may think I identify with Bud Cort's character who is all doom and gloom and turning away from life (and I wouldn't blame you); but, in fact, it's Ruth Gordon's character I keep inside of me. She will be turning 80 years old and meets Harold who is just a young man of twenty. They develop a deep friendship in which she imparts her unique perspective on life to him. That perspective includes (among so many other things) her stealing cars in part to remind people not to get so attached to things. She enjoys living life and wants Harold to enjoy it as well. I can't give you my favorite quote from the movie since it will spoil the ending. But, I can end with the song from the movie written by the former Cat Stevens: If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out.