Elvis update.
We stopped Elvis’s chemo treatment back in November… Paul said it was time.
The effects of the chemo had become compounded; it took longer for her to recover every time and I found myself in an uncomfortable place where I was doing math to gauge the quality of her life: # bad days + # ok days + # good days = time to go back for more chemo.
I don’t regret treating the cancer, but it was hard on her. That’s difficult to think about, and I’m not sure if it was right… but ultimately I haven’t second-guessed the decision because I am so beyond deeply grateful for the extra time I’ve had with her.
When Paul said it was time to stop chemo, I really struggled. Even though I didn’t DISAGREE, it was so hard to accept.
But at the very beginning of all of this, I had told myself that I would listen and TRUST Paul’s judgement about the hard decisions because my own line in the sand would be impaired.
The time since stopping the chemo has been wonderful… the cancer was in remission, she gained weight, got some new nonsensical-nicknames, got her whiskers back, and would occasionally tear through the house, being chased by whatever invisible demons plague cats.
But she has begun having the same symptoms that got her diagnosed in the first place… which means remission has ended and the cancer is back.
She is still hanging in there and doing well; we are treating her symptoms, and she is responding… but we have had a few days where I thought: this is the tipping point.
Right now I feel like we are living on the edge of a cliff: it’s strange how everything is FINE there! As long as you are STILL ON THE EDGE.
However. It is impossible to forget that once you fall over, things are going to become problematic REALLY FAST.
Paul and Elvis, napping at the beach… he probably won’t thank me for using this photo, but I love it.
I also love this one below, because it sums up why I love Paul.
He said– there, I’ve fixed Elvis for you.
***insert words about my feelings, because I typed a whole bunch, cried, deleted it, walked away, rewrote it, but still not expressing myself. so, just THIS FACE.***
I will love you EVEN MORE… if you share me with your friends.
February 9, 2016 @ 10:07 am
Thank you for this update. You and Elvis have been on my mind recently. It’s so hard, where you are, but I’m glad you’ve got Paul – and duct tape – and can share it with us, the faceless masses and minions.
Keep breathing. Love Elvis. You can’t go wrong.
February 9, 2016 @ 10:12 am
The understanding of total strangers has been amazing… the comments I got when she was first diagnosed were quite literally unreadable without a box of kleenex.
xoxoxo
February 9, 2016 @ 1:35 pm
I know about the Kleenex, but it won’t stop as quick as you hope. My husband & I lost our fur-baby, Pugsly (14.5 YO), 9 months ago and I tear-up very easily at almost anything that’s cute, loving or has to do with the animal kingdom. Even writing this comment is a struggle. I let the tears flow, it doesn’t work trying to stop them. People who know you won’t care.
My sister-in-law lost both of her cats (Flea & Lips) and a dog (Bandit) to severe illnesses. My biggest worry is that she’s alone. I’m not yet.
My Husband & I are in our 70s, we’re not long for this earth. And I feel with a tear, that Pugsly is no longer on my list of worries.
March 24, 2016 @ 9:51 pm
My heart goes out to you and your husband. We have a cat named Elvis as well! I can attest to how they can weave themselves into the very fabric of our lives. Letting them go, even when we know it is the right thing to do, can be so incredibly difficult. I’m sure her last days were the very best days that any kittie ever had.
February 9, 2016 @ 7:15 pm
The chemo was worth all the cost and all the down side. The time was a lifetime.
February 10, 2016 @ 2:04 am
Hugs, hugs, hugs — Watch the blue suede shoes. Much love to you, Paul & Elvis
February 9, 2016 @ 10:09 am
I have been through this too many times – Sending you & Elvis & Paul all the love as you go through this process that encompasses so damn many feelings.
February 9, 2016 @ 10:09 am
My heart breaks as I read this as I went through similar circumstances with a cherished yorkie that was diagnosed with diabetes. Although we were trained on how to give him his twice daily shots in the end his little body couldn’t take it anymore but we got 1 1/2 additional years with him and one night he fell into eternal sleep. 14 wonderful years. That was 2 years ago this Feb 19. You both are loving parents to Elvis and he knows that! Prayers to you all.
February 9, 2016 @ 10:10 am
There are no words to insert here because the pain of losing a beloved pet, or watching a pet suffer and be caught between wanting them with you one more day and wanting them to be free of disease, has no language.
February 9, 2016 @ 10:10 am
She’s one hell of a cat.
February 9, 2016 @ 10:14 am
If I ever get a tattoo, this will be it and I’ll be sure to give you a little byline credit underneath.
February 9, 2016 @ 10:10 am
Our kitty of almost 20 years, Floyd, was at a decline for awhile–slow and steady. Then last spring it was swift and brutal and downhill fast. I loved Floyd. He was a GREAT cat. But I think there comes a point where you just know. I would always ask the vet “is he suffering?”. As long as the answer was no, it was ok. The instant it became yes, that was it. We said good-bye last spring and it was awful. I started to cry when I read this, thinking that Elvis was gone and knowing how much that will hurt you. I’m so sorry you are going through this.
February 9, 2016 @ 10:11 am
Pets are family. There are no words. Elvis is so lucky to have you. I teared up reading your post this morning, and wish I could say something that would comfort you. So hard. Crying with you in Kansas.
February 9, 2016 @ 10:12 am
My throat is tight and my heart hurts with yours. I wish more than words, I had the power to fit things for you, Paul and Elvis. I know wishes aren’t much…but I really adore the love you have for your sweet Elvis. And thank you for always…EVERY. SINGLE. POST. making my day better. Even when you share sad moments in your heart. My best aloha to you.
Mahalo nui loa
February 9, 2016 @ 10:12 am
I have stood on that cliff a few times – hugs to you all.
February 9, 2016 @ 10:12 am
My heart aches for you,I am sure like many others who have been done this road with fur children..and it just HURTS! I just noticed the darling little heart on Elvis’s face how precious! There are no words of comfort,just know that you gave him or her the BEST life and love,and it was returned…what a wonderful world if all kitties and children experienced such love in a life time! Prayers to you all !!
February 9, 2016 @ 10:12 am
I’ve so been there on this journey with my beloved cats, Agatha and Sneakers. I started to write about them and got a little sniffly all over again.
February 9, 2016 @ 10:16 am
Victoria and Paul, what a Blessing to have such a wonderful fur family member in your midst. We, who have fur family, understand every single, step, fear, tear and emotional precipice. Our fur family feels our angst and, I know… yes, I know, they want us to be happy as well. Loving… doing our best, loving things… our fur family understands. I send my love, hugs and encouragement.
February 9, 2016 @ 10:16 am
Thoughts and prayers for you, Paul and Elvis. Thank you for the post, I know it wasn’t easy but we really appreciate it.
February 9, 2016 @ 10:17 am
I’m so sorry, Victoria, my heart breaks for you guys. I can’t imagine a better home and family for Elvis.
February 9, 2016 @ 10:17 am
Elvis is so lucky to have an awesome cat mommy like you that truly loves him so much!
February 9, 2016 @ 10:19 am
My heart goes out to you. Molly is right. Pets are family. I stood on that cliff. There are no words. Take care.
February 9, 2016 @ 10:19 am
My heart goes out to you and Paul. We have had to make the decision a dozen times over the years. It is never easy and always sad. Elvis is still a cool cat??
February 9, 2016 @ 10:20 am
The duct tape did me in. So heartbreaking and yet, THE LOVE.
February 9, 2016 @ 10:22 am
Yes. This. Exactly.
xoxoxo
February 9, 2016 @ 10:20 am
No words of comfort because there really aren’t any. Consider yourself wrapped in a big hug though, because I know your pain and totally understand what you are saying. Letting go is the only downside to having a furry member of your family. Their little lives are way too short but the love they give is enormous! Best wishes to you all, and may you all find peace when the time comes. Elvis is lucky and so are you and Paul because you three found each other-
February 9, 2016 @ 10:21 am
The duct tape photo did me in. I’ve been where you are and know what it feels like to do everything and ANYthing to save a sweet, furry friend. Pets are family. Hugs, prayers, thoughts, and good mojo to you, Paul, and Elvis.