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 @ 11:57 am
Heartbreaking. <3
February 9, 2016 @ 12:06 pm
The pain equals the love.
I cleaned out a desk drawer yesterday and found one strand of black fur. Totally decimated me though Flash been gone for over two years. The pain will never go away because there was so.much.love. Hold on to that.
February 9, 2016 @ 12:07 pm
I am almost 59 years old and have had cats most of my life. I still miss every single one of those goofy critters. If there is a heaven I hope I will have a large welcoming committee. Love stays with us, that is the only positive part when we have to say goodbye.
February 9, 2016 @ 12:08 pm
Long time reader, first time commenter here. So sorry you are going through this with Elvis, who is absolutely adorbs. Totally get balancing extra good-ish kitty time with making sure said kitty is not suffering. I lost my 18 y/o sweet girl Penelope three months ago after a three year battle with kidney disease, and at about the halfway point she lost her eyes due to damage from high blood pressure (and not both at once – a month apart so two surgeries, two recoveries, both with complications, etc). Everyone pretty much thought I was nuts for going through it (and spending an insane amount of money at the vet – thus putting off my own kitchen remodel project for a year because of it so I really felt you there!) but for a year and a half she did just fine blind and I wouldn’t have sacrificed those days for anything. When her body started to finally deteriorate beyond the treatments she was getting, her descent was fairly rapid but controlled so I had time to decide when to call it, as hard as that was, and to say goodbye. I miss her every day but I don’t regret a single moment or dollar spent, and my wish for you is that you won’t either. Elvis is very lucky to have you and Paul as her humans.
February 9, 2016 @ 12:09 pm
I’m so glad you updated us on Elvis. I’ve been wondering how she is. So sorry to hear. I still remember what it was like going through something similar with our dog Jessie. You will know when it’s time, you’re a great pet mom.
February 9, 2016 @ 12:14 pm
there are never any right words or good enough words to comfort someone during times like this – Elvis is so cute and sweet and fun. Just consider yourself and Elvis both virtually hugged.
February 9, 2016 @ 12:19 pm
Oh my gosh. I get it. I SO get it I can’t even put it into words. I lost my Steve in a very similar manner. He was 13. Which in my cat estimation is far, far too young. He was my everything. When I would say that, I never thought anyone could ever understand that. I think you do. He was an only cat in my child free life.
Steve *knew* me, and I *knew* him. He was my “canary in the coal mine”. He could tell if I was sick before I even knew I was sick.
I’m SO sorry that you are having to go through this. Tears are running down my face as I type this. my heart breaks for you. If there’s one thing I can suggest, make some paw prints in molding clay, paw prints with ink pads. A shop on Etsy will make a charm necklace (it sounds tacky but my friend made one and it’s gorgeous) out of a nose or paw print in silver, gold, whatever. I didn’t. It got pushed to the back of my mind. And I regret it. But I did have my best girlfriend come and take pictures and video of us. She was someone who loved photography and me and took pictures until she knew she got enough of the “right” ones. Give Elvis a bucket list day. And fulfill it.
Do everything your heart desires for Elvis. The last day comes sooner than you can imagine. I cherish my videos of Steve lying on my lap the last couple days, just lying there, doing nothing but being himself. That’s what I miss most. I can hear his purring. It’s an awesome comfort.
February 9, 2016 @ 12:24 pm
Our Scottie man, Stewart, just started chemo for lymphoma last week. Stewart is the calmest, most laid-back Scottie ever…we kid that he smokes pot when we are not looking! He is so kind and empathetic. When we rescued our rat terrier, Snickers – who had been hit and required two surgeries to repair his pelvis and hip – Stewie stayed with him constantly. We call him Nurse Stewie and imagine him with a nurse’s cap! To see him deal with the chemo is heartbreaking. He has done very well but we know that the end will come faster than we had wished. But we are comforted by having dealt with previous losses of dog babies who showed us that you know when it’s time. Sadly and beautifully you know when it’s time for your pet to join the others you have lost. Elvis is a beautiful cat and she is obviously adored and loved…and she knows it. Trust your instincts…I’m positive Elvis does.
February 9, 2016 @ 12:26 pm
Oh, darling girl, my heart feels your heartache right now. I know this might not be the best time to bring it up, but you might want to shave your legs before wearing shorts. It is the ladylike thing to do, even in the worst of times. (Or so I am told by my daughters, after I catch them giving each other ‘looks’) 😉
Paul is great. Love the duct tape wizardry!
If you were here I would hug you and take you for a delicious lunch somewhere you have never been.
February 9, 2016 @ 12:43 pm
I hope you were trying to be funny, because it most assuredly the wrong time to say such a thing, and it’s Paul in the shorts.
February 10, 2016 @ 1:03 pm
TammiGirl, please accept my apologies. I was so upset reading this post I unleashed on you. NO excuse for my rudeness, but I wanted you to know where my ugly came from. I’m very sorry.
February 9, 2016 @ 4:27 pm
knowing Veb… just from her writing…..She cracked up at the shorts and shaving gag. Hope it cheered her for the moment. It was definitely meant to. IMHO
February 9, 2016 @ 12:26 pm
Bless you and your husband for your never ending compassion for Elvis. My heart breaks for you as you watch your beloved pet tackle the effects of cancer. Unfortunately heartache is part of the process of being a pet owner but the rewards far outweigh the pain of losing a beloved pet. I’ll keep you all in my prayers.
February 9, 2016 @ 12:32 pm
Victoria:
My heart aches for you. Elvis is blessed to be with you and Paul, just as Elvis has been a blessing to you and Paul. Treasure and cherish the time you have together. Love that Paul fixed Elvis.
February 9, 2016 @ 12:38 pm
Hugs. I know how hard it is. What a beautiful creature – I love that little heart on her cheek! You are so blessed to have found one another. I’ll be thinking of you.
February 9, 2016 @ 12:39 pm
Elvis is a Cat among Cats! I’ve been thinking of her lately. You are brave and wonderful, and TYFS.
February 9, 2016 @ 12:39 pm
Bravo to all the community posts and all the human-feline expressions of love and understanding. Sharing this pain helps. I still see Sidney (21 years, he left us in November) out of the corner of my eye sometimes and still expect to see him when I get home. Elvis knows she is loved and she has no fear for the future. These little creatures are just the best and keep us connected to the real, natural world that sometimes gets lost in life. Carry her over when the time comes and laugh again and again when you recall the antics and pranks from the past. Big hug to you and Paul and Elvis . . . .
February 9, 2016 @ 1:20 pm
That happened to us as well. For a little while after he was gone, we would sense movement right at the edge of vision and almost see him. I had a friend who heard sounds from her dog downstairs after he was gone. Very strange.
February 9, 2016 @ 12:46 pm
Been there, very tough to endure (both).
Suggest you find or take the best portrait in 8×10 and add a paw print or two on a mat surrounding it. Elvis won’t understand why there’s black ink on his paws, but believe me when I say having THIS FACE and THOSE PAWS at eye level can really help you through whatever else life has in store for you.
February 9, 2016 @ 12:47 pm
My heart is breaking with yours, and, like everyone else, I wish I could heal your sweet girl. She is so adorable. Thank you for keeping us updated. I wish I could do something for all of you.
February 9, 2016 @ 12:57 pm
I am so sorry to hear about your precious cat & hope that you get a lot more lovely cuddles before he has to move on ?
February 9, 2016 @ 12:58 pm
Victoria, I understand how you feel, we lost our yellow lab to cancer. I still cry.
Just FEEL
February 9, 2016 @ 1:03 pm
Dear Victoria, my daughter and family faced a similar situation with their small dog, Tink, (Tinkerbell). When the poor girl lost the use of her hind legs, they carried her everywhere. But, finally, the vet said she was suffering. So, they packed a picnic lunch, the kids, Tink, and a camera. They headed to their favorite Michigan beach, and spent the day making photographic memories, as well as saying goodbye. The next day, Tink was gently laid to rest. It was really bittersweet, but they are all grateful they took the time to have one last special day with her.
Tink was an older dog, whose elderly owner had passed away. There was no family left to take the dog. So my daughter saved her from an early “convenience” euthanasia, and the little dog who behaved as her aged owner had, suddenly began behaving like a young puppy. The family had joyous years together before nature intervened.
I know Elvis is grateful for the time she has share
February 9, 2016 @ 1:14 pm
Sorry, my phone blipped.
Love is the universal language. Elvis knows she is loved, and loved well.
February 9, 2016 @ 1:03 pm
No words. Just huge, enormous hugs to you and Paul and gentle kitty ones for Elvis. My animal-loving heart is with you.