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 @ 11:03 am
Enjoy every single moment you have! You’ll always remember these days but the memories will be happier. Seeing our fur babies to the end eases their lives and oh, the lessons we learn when we are saying goodbye.
Heartbroken for you and Paul.
Thanks for posting. As you have read, we readers love you and your family and are standing with you in this difficult time.
February 9, 2016 @ 11:04 am
You have the sweetest husband, ever. <3
February 9, 2016 @ 11:04 am
Our fur babies just don’t live long enough. It’s so unfair. Your Elvis looks so sweet. I’m so sorry you’re going through this, but Elvis is so lucky to have two parents who love her so much and are doing everything possible to make her comfortable.
February 9, 2016 @ 11:05 am
We said goodbye to our 17 year old Tuxedo “Annie” and our 16 year old “Angus” within 2 weeks of each other (January). Its horrible. No matter what you tell yourself to get through it. We’ve had cats for 30 years. Our house is lonely but once we retire and make our cross-country move, I’ll be on the look-out for a new friend to take in. Hugs to you, Paul, and Elvis.
February 9, 2016 @ 11:06 am
I have been wondering how she was doing, and hoping she was OK. She’s such a special girl! Thank you for the update.
February 9, 2016 @ 11:08 am
We had to say goodbye to our cat Maverick a few months ago, after 20 and a half years. It was terrible, but it was also the right time for him. And it still sucks for us, much like it will for you and Paul. I’m sorry. 🙁
I hear you on the tattoo, I got a giant black streak in my hair for my little guy (and I’m blonde!).
Keep your chin up, enjoy the time you have with Elvis, and know that you gave him the best life he could ever have hoped to have!
February 9, 2016 @ 11:17 am
Oh Victoria, my heart goes out to you. Our animals are the ones who spin the most beautiful and ridiculous behaviors out of us. Somehow doing it all without words. Your Elvis is a special broad.
February 9, 2016 @ 11:23 am
My heart is so full right now. Those pictures and your words are both beautiful and heartbreaking. I’ve been thinking quite a bit about Elvis, so I thank you for the update (which can’t have been easy to write). All we can do is walk with you down this road. It’s sad and full. Sad, for obvious reasons, and surprisingly full as we realize just how these fur family members have opened us up – to love, to life and to connection. I’m so grateful that Paul is there for you and Elvis. I know what my husband’s love and concern meant to me when I was too upset to trust my own judgment about our cat, Oreo. I’m writing too much, lost in my own memories. So I’ll just say I care and sending big hugs.<3
February 9, 2016 @ 11:25 am
We finally had to accept that our pretty grey and white 18 year old Nantucket…named for the Island that lingered as grey and white cottages dripping in Roses in my memory..had to go back to the Vet . We had acquired her or vice versa on our 10 acres in the country-where strange humans who, noting we had a barn, assumed we would love lots of pregnant momma cats.
Nantucket’s Mamma was not having the whelping box placed in our barn for shielding her babies from harm and proceeded to carry them one by one to a very distant woods on the neighboring property, I,thinking I was helping the kittens out,proceeded to bring them back to the barn..where upon, Momma carried them back to the woods. She must have been too exhausted to notice that one was missing and thus we acquired a kitten. Since we had two dogs of our own and a Rottweiler we were caring for for our son,having a cat on the property was disastrous. The barn was safe because there was a broken board where the cat went in and out but not large dogs.
We brought Nantucket in and kept her in a bedroom until she was large enough to hold her own and boy did she,right up to and including riding dogs, claws dug in, out of her way. She would tolerate their proximity until too close and then they got a bat on the nose,first sans claws but too close and howls ensued. They soon learned to leave her alone. She was never social,she would allow a few strokes and then glide off- tail held high and look back as though to say,I owe you some small intimacy for my room and board but don’t take liberties .
It cracked us up,she was quite the grand Lady. Strangely when we got her to the Vet,I was going to leave her in the carrier, but she cried pitifully,something I had never, ever heard from her before and so I set her on the examining table assuming she would ignore us as usual,but she bumped into my hand and I began to stroke her and she relaxed and lay still,purring no less until the Doctor explained he could do exploratory surgery but she might not survive even that because of her age. This just seemed to us to be more suffering without any hope so we accepted that Euthanasia was the kinder choice. She accepted our continued talk and strokes and went quickly to her final rest. She was the least loving pet we ever had and I think of her often. I always get a smile because she was so independent and didn’t take any guff from man or beast. I totally believe Animals are far more cognizant than we give them credit for. I have never felt sad or cried that a pet did not rush to my side looking concerned and resting their head on my knee or licking my hand. So I know they are much more aware than may be obvious. In 56 years of Marriage we have said goodbye to many many pets and even tough as it is always always heartbreaking ,the joy and laughter,comfort and affection they gave us far outweigh the sadness. Thanks for the laughs and joy your writing brings to my life and you are doing everything you both can possibly do in one of life’s great trials. We know this and Elvis knows this. Love to you all.
February 9, 2016 @ 11:25 am
Right now…4 of my dogs are sleeping. One at my back. One on my feet. One right next to him. One cradled in my arm…..I think I will draw HEARTS on their faces. x
February 9, 2016 @ 11:26 am
Truly sorry. I lost my cat of 15 years suddenly. We were sitting on the porch one evening as per…the next day I noticed he seemed a little off and when I took him to the vet, they recommended he be euthanized due to his issues. I will never get over taking him in and then not leaving with him. I wish you peace on what remains of your journey with Elvis. They love us so…it’s truly so hard to let them go.
February 9, 2016 @ 11:27 am
Sadly, along with the good we have to experience the bad. Elvis is living the best life any person could wish for being loved by you and Paul. Love endures and never goes away. Sending heartfelt wishes for comfort for you all.
February 9, 2016 @ 11:30 am
“That Face” and so very much more. Anyone who loves animals–and I believe that to be all of the best people walking this earth–understands what you are going through. It is one of the toughest places I’ve ever had to be, yet I’m so glad for the love of my pets, past and present. You are all on my mind and give Elvis a big ol’ Texas kiss and hug from me (and I’m also sending one for you and one for Paul).
Bambi
February 9, 2016 @ 11:40 am
I am so sorry. Yes, I have been through this too and my beloved Perfect Persephone and most recently Athena passed on. It is difficult, Elizabeth, so awful. Yet in the midst of all the pain it is helpful to remember what an animal oncologist once told me and that is that “animals are free of the terror of cancer that humans endure.”
I have really enjoyed getting to know Elvis–such a cutie!–and I know that she will go when she does knowing what a great life she had, how much love.
[[[[[HUGS]]]]]
February 9, 2016 @ 11:43 am
Victoria,
From one kitty lover to another…….I am so sorry. ?
Michelle
February 9, 2016 @ 11:48 am
My heart is breaking for you and Paul. I have been around long enough to have gone through similar situations with family pets…it’s so damn hard. I know you will both make her as comfortable as is possible and the love she experiences from you is all any pet can hope for although I’m not sure cats think that way. That may be a dog thing. 🙂
Thank you for the update.
I’m holding good thoughts for you as I’m crying.
xo,
Karen
February 9, 2016 @ 11:49 am
Oh, sweet one — you and Paul know what you’re doing: loving a fantastic kitty through thick and thin. Remember Elvis in pearls? The three of you are lucky to have one another.
February 9, 2016 @ 11:53 am
I am so sorry you have reached the cliff edge. Elvis is one special cat and has the best life possible. You can feel proud you have given her everything she could have wished for herself. You!
Breathe and enjoy the moments.
February 9, 2016 @ 11:56 am
I had been thinking/wondering about you and Elvis lately. I’m having trouble coming up with the right words, but just know this stranger is crying for you both. Glad you got a few extra good days. xxx
February 9, 2016 @ 11:56 am
These are special times for you, Paul, and Elvis … you may not think of it that way right now. Elvis loves you. She knows that you love her. Pets don’t dread or worry, they are what they are, in the present tense. You’re a good cat mom, Ms. VEB … remember that.