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 14, 2016 @ 11:12 pm
All I can do is validate, from person experience, that it sucks. It helped me to remember that’s the price we pay for being blessed with such wonderful kitties. I believe they count on us to know when to help them leave. Not sure if any of that helps helps but at least you know you’re in the company of people who really do understand what you’re going through and we are ever so sorry you have to join our ranks! (((((Hugs))))
February 17, 2016 @ 8:06 am
Your Elvis is a very lucky kitty to be loved so totally and completely. I went back and reread what you had written about her when she was first diagnosed because I remembered what a beautifully written tribute it was. It still made me tear up. So sorry to hear that you are coming to that place that all of us pet lovers dread most. I went through this with my Cricket and mammary cancer several years ago and am still grateful for the 18 extra months together her tumor removal surgery bought us. Her loss eventually brought us Chloe, a tuxie who bears more than a passing resemblance to your Elvis, and who my husband and I adore with all our hearts. I pray that you can enjoy every moment of this time you have left together. You will know in your heart when it’s time to let go, because you love her so very much. Great big hugs to you, Paul and sweet Elvis.
March 1, 2016 @ 1:08 am
I feel your pain, a heartwrenching time for you all. xx
March 30, 2016 @ 6:39 pm
I did great. Until the duct tape.
April 7, 2016 @ 9:57 pm
Arthur was my Elvis. Wanna hear something crazy? When I first saw a picture of Elvis, I did a double take. They could have been twins. I loved Arthur with my whole heart. He was family, in every sense of the word. He’s been gone for nearly a decade and still I have tears running down my face as I type this. All this to say, I understand the pain of losing so precious loved one. I am truly sorry. You and Elvis are in my heart today.
April 14, 2016 @ 5:49 pm
It’s never okay to lose a friend, and even worse when you give her so much of your wild, big heart. I’m so sorry to hear this. Let me know if you need to talk, or a willing smuggling accomplice–whichever comes first.
June 28, 2016 @ 12:37 pm
<3 <3 <3
June 29, 2016 @ 12:06 am
I’m sorry Elvis is not doing well, she is so adorable. I especially love her little ears, one pointed straight up in the air, and the other straight out. Of course, the tiny heart on her nose is the sweetest. I had to let my sweet Miss Kitty go last summer. She was 18 years old and she seemed to have gotten sick over a few weeks. Those few weeks she loved being held and petted, she purred; and when it was time I kissed her sweet face and held her in my arms. It hurts and for weeks I thought I heard her little meow, it get stuck in your head.
I wish you all the hugs and comfort you need to get through this…and you have Paul. Take care Victoria, Elvis is a lucky kitty to have you as a mom.
July 13, 2016 @ 4:09 am
I am so happy to hear Elvis is still alive and has not yet left the building! BTW, The Dirty Life, the book Paul’s reading, is one of my all time favs. If you have not yet read it, you must do so.
XO
September 25, 2016 @ 11:34 am
Found your post by following a pinterest lead on Christmas deco. Sorry for your loss. She is a beautiful cat. God bless.