The vet visit last night was lovely, though sad. Dr. Randy pretty much echoed my assessment -- that the tumor has grown and Juliet's time appears to be near. We talked about next steps. He surprised me by asking what I wanted to do, and almost by rote, I said "Keep her comfortable and minimize suffering."
We agreed not to take her blood pressure, though he noticed on his own that some vision has returned. We agreed that she doesn't need to be on kidney diet right now. He gave me some tips about what to look for, and we decided I'd come back in half a week, on Monday, to reassess. (I'm as always just hoping we get through Sunday, his day of rest.)
Then he gave her an acupuncture treatment and very lovingly did moxa (heating of the needles, which is a slow process). She kept settling in and getting comfier. I watched and tried to just breathe and not to cry -- there's plenty of other time for that. He also gave her aquapuncture, and the magic brew he used included Vitamin B12 and prednisone, a steroid, to reduce swelling.
And it did work magic. This morning, after several days of disinterest in food, her bowl is nearly licked clean. Her eye is far less googly, and she seems perhaps more alert. She was a little active for my tastes last night, leaving me still feeling tired, but it's really hard to complain about that.
For a while, I was saying that we were going two days by two days, that I was fairly certain she'd be alive two days out. Now we're living day-by-day. But we have a tiny bit of relief, and a little more comfort.
And in a spectacular gesture of caring for the caregiver, Robert got takeout last night from a new middle Eastern restaurant near where he works. It was over the top delicious and totally fed my soul -- just what my inner doctor would have ordered.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Thursday, January 12, 2006
more tears
Later in the morning, a bit more sleep under my belt. And more tears. I feel so helpless against this disease. For a while, it didn't necessarily seem like we were winning, but perhaps we were holding it off for a while longer. Now it's clear that even those efforts are failing, if indeed we had any effect at all.
One of my saddest thoughts: I wonder if Juliet knows that I have and would do anything in my power to keep her healthy. And, to twist it around, I wonder if she feels that I've somehow let her down. At the same time, she seems so forgiving, so happy just to be near me. I am grateful but somehow feel unworthy at the same time. It's the old conflict of emotion and intellect, apparently a big day for that particular battle.
One of my saddest thoughts: I wonder if Juliet knows that I have and would do anything in my power to keep her healthy. And, to twist it around, I wonder if she feels that I've somehow let her down. At the same time, she seems so forgiving, so happy just to be near me. I am grateful but somehow feel unworthy at the same time. It's the old conflict of emotion and intellect, apparently a big day for that particular battle.
return of the googly eye
I'm becoming intimately familiar with the 4am -- 5:30 am cycle on my digital bedside clock. There will be sleep, eventually.
Juliet's tumor seems to have grown even more. She has a restless mouth. She seems to chew a lot, though perhaps she's just trying to find a comfortable place to rest her tongue. And her eye isn't looking good, either. Last night, it was half closed, a little weepy, and the third lid had started to reappear, as it did right after her surgery. She's eating very little, though sometimes I think she's hungry.
And after all this, the discomfort, the medications, the daily hydration, and on and on, she still purrs when I climb into bed.
There's a lot of talk about the blood-brain barrier, and I at times think the barrier between my intellect and emotions is as strong. Tonight, really this morning, I had a breakthrough. I laid in bed with the kitty and gently stroked her. She purred. I cried.
Perhaps there's more sleep in me now before another day of work. I'll try, at least.
Juliet's tumor seems to have grown even more. She has a restless mouth. She seems to chew a lot, though perhaps she's just trying to find a comfortable place to rest her tongue. And her eye isn't looking good, either. Last night, it was half closed, a little weepy, and the third lid had started to reappear, as it did right after her surgery. She's eating very little, though sometimes I think she's hungry.
And after all this, the discomfort, the medications, the daily hydration, and on and on, she still purrs when I climb into bed.
There's a lot of talk about the blood-brain barrier, and I at times think the barrier between my intellect and emotions is as strong. Tonight, really this morning, I had a breakthrough. I laid in bed with the kitty and gently stroked her. She purred. I cried.
Perhaps there's more sleep in me now before another day of work. I'll try, at least.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
tumor update
Juliet's tumor was originally a discrete little bump near her jaw. It has now spread all the way up to the corner of her lip. She's still eating, though not as enthusiastically as a few days ago. Still taking her meds, and still purring up a storm. Oh, and she's still feisty as all get out.
I have no idea what this means to the general time line, but obviously, it's not positive news. I'm sure that Dr. Randy and I will be discussing it when I see him tomorrow night.
I have no idea what this means to the general time line, but obviously, it's not positive news. I'm sure that Dr. Randy and I will be discussing it when I see him tomorrow night.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
gee, you look tired
When I achieved some level of consciousness, I'm not sure if I first noticed that it was 4am or that a terrible noise was coming from the bathroom. I leapt up and realized the cat had just thrown up on the tile floor (good kitty).
Just before Round 2 hit the sheepskin rug, I quickly re-aimed her at the litter box and held on while she delivered. Went to clean off my foot so I didn't track any more around, then cleaned her feet and tail. When I realized she was about to try a Blue Man Group trick (oooh. warm. tasty), re-aimed her at her real food, which was just fine. Cleaned up the mess on the tile floor. Went downstairs to get the litter-cleaning equipment, cleaned litter box, and delivered cleanings back downstairs to the back door.
Back in bed again, Miss Puss, now feeling immensely better, climbed over to my other side and purred me back to sleep.
Just before Round 2 hit the sheepskin rug, I quickly re-aimed her at the litter box and held on while she delivered. Went to clean off my foot so I didn't track any more around, then cleaned her feet and tail. When I realized she was about to try a Blue Man Group trick (oooh. warm. tasty), re-aimed her at her real food, which was just fine. Cleaned up the mess on the tile floor. Went downstairs to get the litter-cleaning equipment, cleaned litter box, and delivered cleanings back downstairs to the back door.
Back in bed again, Miss Puss, now feeling immensely better, climbed over to my other side and purred me back to sleep.
cultural adventures of two suburbanites
We had a three-fer or perhaps a four-fer last week, as far as cultural events go. Not bad for two boring people from the suburbs.
On Thursday, we actually got to stay in the suburbs and attend a dance performance by a NYC troupe. We and a friend saw NutCracked by David Parker and the Bang Group. We saw the same performance last year in Provincetown with five dancers; this time there were ten, so the choreography felt different. We also saw DP&TBG last summer in the same venue, performing different pieces.
The performance is a takeoff on the Nutcracker. In the first half, they dance to modern interpretations of the original music and in the second half, they dance to straight interpretations of the original music. There are lots of body percussion noises. Some of the more memorable scenes include toe shoes on all four extremities, popping bubble wrap in time to the music, and an incredibly erotic passage involving thumb-sucking.
Our friend was delighted as were we, and I'm looking forward to seeing DB&TBG next summer if not sooner.
On Saturday, my company held its "holiday" party, which for once was about as ecumenical as could be, given that everyone's so tired of the holidays that they were completely erased from the scene. We attended the Blue Man Group, which neither of us had seen. There were some good parts, and, as I suspected, some tedious "male humor" parts (think eating imitation twinkie vomit). Lots of varied music, including a long passage from Bolero, a pleasant surprise. There was a lot of trying to get the audience to behave as one unit. If I go back, I'd enjoy it more if I brought a young child, preferably male, between the ages of 8 and 12. Fun, but not outrageously so.
We had a cocktail party at the very elegant Davio's. One of the waiters, a delightful old queen (and I'm sure he wouldn't mind my calling him that), discovered quickly that I am vegetarian and started making a beeline to me every time he had non-meat on his passed hors d'oevres plate. He explained in an aside to one of my chattees that he tries to pick out the disenfranchised at every party. Very sweet, and I felt well taken care of. The food was good, the conversation was fun. I talked to a lot of wives of coworkers who were all lovely and gracious and intriguing to talk to.
There was too much standing on hard stone floors, though, and I finally ran out of stand up.
Our next stop was a contra dance, which we arrived at late. The instant I hit the dance floor, the caller announced that I had arrived and started to teach my favorite dance, the Hills of Haversham, which I've only ever heard him call. Very thoughtful. He later reported that he was pleasantly surprised at how well we danced it. It felt nice from the floor, too.
Unfortunately, the band is my current least favorite. They play an old timey style of music that all sounds the same to my ear. They're good musicians, and they keep a steady beat going. However, their music all sounds whiney and twangy and for me, there's no lyricism. They played at our last dance camp and I found their bored attitude somewhat poisonous; we can be grateful that they played for just one short evening this time.
And on Sunday, we attended a Boston Symphony Chamber Players concert. They performed the Third Brandenburg Concerto, followed by a Stravinsky that opens with passages taken from the first piece, except reassembled the way Picasso did cubism. But I was quite proud of myself for actually hearing the borrowed pieces. They also performed two Copland pieces, one mercifully short. The other was Appalachian Spring for 13 instruments instead of the usual full orchestra. I very much enjoyed the second half of AS, which seemed to be a meditation on "Tis a Gift to be Simple," fortunately done very simply and respectfully.
As a side-note, my brother is in the country for a month, directing The Marriage of Figaro: The Las Vegas Version. Unfortunately, between our schedules and the cat's illness, I'm unable to see it, though I've seen an earlier version. In this latest update, the lyrics have been rewritten by one of the members of the Capitol Steps to better fit the silly script. If you're in Washington during its run (Jan 14-Jan 28), I recommend it.
On Thursday, we actually got to stay in the suburbs and attend a dance performance by a NYC troupe. We and a friend saw NutCracked by David Parker and the Bang Group. We saw the same performance last year in Provincetown with five dancers; this time there were ten, so the choreography felt different. We also saw DP&TBG last summer in the same venue, performing different pieces.
The performance is a takeoff on the Nutcracker. In the first half, they dance to modern interpretations of the original music and in the second half, they dance to straight interpretations of the original music. There are lots of body percussion noises. Some of the more memorable scenes include toe shoes on all four extremities, popping bubble wrap in time to the music, and an incredibly erotic passage involving thumb-sucking.
Our friend was delighted as were we, and I'm looking forward to seeing DB&TBG next summer if not sooner.
On Saturday, my company held its "holiday" party, which for once was about as ecumenical as could be, given that everyone's so tired of the holidays that they were completely erased from the scene. We attended the Blue Man Group, which neither of us had seen. There were some good parts, and, as I suspected, some tedious "male humor" parts (think eating imitation twinkie vomit). Lots of varied music, including a long passage from Bolero, a pleasant surprise. There was a lot of trying to get the audience to behave as one unit. If I go back, I'd enjoy it more if I brought a young child, preferably male, between the ages of 8 and 12. Fun, but not outrageously so.
We had a cocktail party at the very elegant Davio's. One of the waiters, a delightful old queen (and I'm sure he wouldn't mind my calling him that), discovered quickly that I am vegetarian and started making a beeline to me every time he had non-meat on his passed hors d'oevres plate. He explained in an aside to one of my chattees that he tries to pick out the disenfranchised at every party. Very sweet, and I felt well taken care of. The food was good, the conversation was fun. I talked to a lot of wives of coworkers who were all lovely and gracious and intriguing to talk to.
There was too much standing on hard stone floors, though, and I finally ran out of stand up.
Our next stop was a contra dance, which we arrived at late. The instant I hit the dance floor, the caller announced that I had arrived and started to teach my favorite dance, the Hills of Haversham, which I've only ever heard him call. Very thoughtful. He later reported that he was pleasantly surprised at how well we danced it. It felt nice from the floor, too.
Unfortunately, the band is my current least favorite. They play an old timey style of music that all sounds the same to my ear. They're good musicians, and they keep a steady beat going. However, their music all sounds whiney and twangy and for me, there's no lyricism. They played at our last dance camp and I found their bored attitude somewhat poisonous; we can be grateful that they played for just one short evening this time.
And on Sunday, we attended a Boston Symphony Chamber Players concert. They performed the Third Brandenburg Concerto, followed by a Stravinsky that opens with passages taken from the first piece, except reassembled the way Picasso did cubism. But I was quite proud of myself for actually hearing the borrowed pieces. They also performed two Copland pieces, one mercifully short. The other was Appalachian Spring for 13 instruments instead of the usual full orchestra. I very much enjoyed the second half of AS, which seemed to be a meditation on "Tis a Gift to be Simple," fortunately done very simply and respectfully.
As a side-note, my brother is in the country for a month, directing The Marriage of Figaro: The Las Vegas Version. Unfortunately, between our schedules and the cat's illness, I'm unable to see it, though I've seen an earlier version. In this latest update, the lyrics have been rewritten by one of the members of the Capitol Steps to better fit the silly script. If you're in Washington during its run (Jan 14-Jan 28), I recommend it.
Monday, January 09, 2006
scene of the crime
I woke on Saturday morning to a crime scene in miniature -- blood-spattered sheets, drops of blood leading across the bathroom floor. The alleged victim sat quietly with a bloody mouth. It gets grosser, but basically, we seem to have entered a new phase, one that is initially disturbing, and probably doesn't get much less so despite some habituation.
Juliet's tumor is at the point where it occasionally lets go of some blood, including clots. I don't think it's painful, but apparently swallowing blood can induce nausea. I'm supposed to clean her mouth out with a squirting device filled with warm water. The first few times I tried it, we both found the experience upsetting, though we're both a little better at it now. In fact, Juliet seems to accept it at this point, especially now that I'm not getting her entirely wet in the process.
On Saturday, I almost took her into the vet, but instead, talked to the Saturday vet tech twice. At one point, I asked whether cleaning her mouth out was more for her benefit or for mine and was reassured that it's good for both of us. Today I called the clinic to get advice about feeding. I think that Juliet is eating a little less, though she's still cleaning up much of what's in her bowl. Still, she's not reacting to her food with as much enthusiasm as she was last week.
On my next visit to see the doc, I'll ask where this new phase puts us in the overall plan. Having no experience with this disease, I don't know what to expect, so I freak out easily. Obviously, there is only one ending, and it's not happy, but I suppose it's a matter of timing.
In other health news, Juliet may have gotten back some tiny amount of vision. Robert and I have both noticed that she's more aware of our presence when we're in the room with her, and she seems to react a little bit to lights being switched on.
And her blood pressure is slowly, but oh so slowly, coming down. We're checking it about once a week. So far, no horrible strokes or neurological complications, thank goodness. We go in for a half-week check tomorrow (I think it's to celebrate the acquisition today of an even tinier cuff for the vet's borrowed bp machine).
Acupuncture treatments continue with good results. Last week, Juliet was especially feisty and even with me holding her would not allow Dr. Randy near her front paws. He was a little concerned about getting bitten, so we just dropped that part of the treatment.
Over all, Juliet's coat gets ever more beautiful and she seems to become increasingly alert. She seems a little more awake these days than right after she went blind; I'm assuming that re-learning her way was exhausting.
A friend dropped by last week to say goodbye to Ms. Puss; I'm hoping said friend's visits will become like the Cher Farewell Tour -- frequently repeated.
Juliet's tumor is at the point where it occasionally lets go of some blood, including clots. I don't think it's painful, but apparently swallowing blood can induce nausea. I'm supposed to clean her mouth out with a squirting device filled with warm water. The first few times I tried it, we both found the experience upsetting, though we're both a little better at it now. In fact, Juliet seems to accept it at this point, especially now that I'm not getting her entirely wet in the process.
On Saturday, I almost took her into the vet, but instead, talked to the Saturday vet tech twice. At one point, I asked whether cleaning her mouth out was more for her benefit or for mine and was reassured that it's good for both of us. Today I called the clinic to get advice about feeding. I think that Juliet is eating a little less, though she's still cleaning up much of what's in her bowl. Still, she's not reacting to her food with as much enthusiasm as she was last week.
On my next visit to see the doc, I'll ask where this new phase puts us in the overall plan. Having no experience with this disease, I don't know what to expect, so I freak out easily. Obviously, there is only one ending, and it's not happy, but I suppose it's a matter of timing.
In other health news, Juliet may have gotten back some tiny amount of vision. Robert and I have both noticed that she's more aware of our presence when we're in the room with her, and she seems to react a little bit to lights being switched on.
And her blood pressure is slowly, but oh so slowly, coming down. We're checking it about once a week. So far, no horrible strokes or neurological complications, thank goodness. We go in for a half-week check tomorrow (I think it's to celebrate the acquisition today of an even tinier cuff for the vet's borrowed bp machine).
Acupuncture treatments continue with good results. Last week, Juliet was especially feisty and even with me holding her would not allow Dr. Randy near her front paws. He was a little concerned about getting bitten, so we just dropped that part of the treatment.
Over all, Juliet's coat gets ever more beautiful and she seems to become increasingly alert. She seems a little more awake these days than right after she went blind; I'm assuming that re-learning her way was exhausting.
A friend dropped by last week to say goodbye to Ms. Puss; I'm hoping said friend's visits will become like the Cher Farewell Tour -- frequently repeated.
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