Where I’ve been: sad.
Elvis has stomach cancer.
It will be terminal.
I have been wanting to write this post since her diagnosis, but it took me a while to crawl out of the sadness cave.
Figuring out what was wrong with her took a while. Lots of vet visits. Lots of blood work. X-rays. Ultrasounds. Allergy trials. Vet specialty hospitals. Endoscopy.
The official report:
Elvis is an eleven/twelveish-year-old female cat, with large-cell, gastric lymphoma.
Her treatment is chemotherapy, with daily doses of steroids.
The hope is that the chemo will induce a period of remission… although there is no hope of curing the kind of lymphoma that she has. At some point the cancer will become resistant to the chemotherapy, and she will come out of remission.
I think that chemo seems questionable to anyone who has ever watched a human loved one endure it… but it turns out that the goal of veterinary chemotherapy is different than human chemotherapy.
In people, the goal is to completely and aggressively eradicate all of the cancer. But in animals the goal is different– the concern of preserving their quality of life is equivalent to treating the cancer.
Elvis is seeing a veterinary oncologist and she explained that people are generally surprised at how well their animals do on chemotherapy… and for the most part, I would agree.
Right now Elvis has more good days than bad days, but the bad days are a bleak reminder that the good days are just a pitstop.
Her good days make me thankful— that she is here now, and hopefully for longer… I am thankful she is responding to the treatment and tolerating it acceptably, and thankful for the doctor and the oncology nurses who are so wonderful.
This is not at all the post I wanted to write.
I’ve written 57 versions of it to try to tell you how much I love Elvis. How she is my favorite thing in the entire world. How she has the sweetest heart of anyone I know. How my satisfaction rate with her is 100%. How it is not very often you get the very best thing in the universe.
And none of the versions are right. Because they do not reach through your screen and put Elvis on your lap, so you can feel her fur; which is superior.
Or see how she drools when you pet her. Or how she likes to sleep inside your clothing— while you are wearing it.
Or the way she likes to tell you how her day was. And how she will come and stand on her hind legs so that you will pick her up.
How she believes there is never NOT room on your lap.
And how she will come up and paw the covers at your neck so you will let her under… then she purrs as loud as possible while madly kneading your arm and drooling.
Elvis is my family in every sense of the word.
August 18, 2015 @ 7:28 pm
Dear VE,
All I can think to say is that Elvis is the luckiest cat in the world to have been your baby. May God bless you and give you abundant courage for the days ahead. Vikki in VA
August 18, 2015 @ 7:55 pm
My thoughs are with you. This makes me so sad.
August 18, 2015 @ 8:05 pm
I am so sorry for you and your friend. My Elvis passed two years ago and I still cry sometimes. That isn’t helpful. We will pray for her, for you both.
August 18, 2015 @ 8:12 pm
Praying for you and Elvis.
August 18, 2015 @ 8:17 pm
Victoria,
I am so sorry this is happening to your family.
August 18, 2015 @ 8:21 pm
Oh no, I am so sorry to hear this. Elvis is lucky she has you in her corner. Anyone who has ever had a pet can relate. I’ll pray for good days for you, Elvis and Paul.
Hugs.
August 18, 2015 @ 8:24 pm
I am so sorry about Elvis. ?
August 18, 2015 @ 8:39 pm
So beautifully told. Lives SO sweet, SO brief.
August 18, 2015 @ 8:48 pm
I read your post as soon as I received the email this morning. Just now, I read it aloud to Dave (who also enjoys your adventures) and couldn’t get two sentences out before I had tears streaming down my face. For you, for Elvis, for Paul, and for Anomaly, Ham, Eggs, Chimera, Valcor, and Aldebaran.
Thank you for sharing your heart. And thank you for allowing your friends to share their hearts.
The words below aren’t for you; they are for everyone above who is still grieving.
To My Dearest Friend
I stood by your bed last night; I came to have a peep.
I could see that you were crying; you found it hard to sleep.
I spoke to you softly as you brushed away a tear,
“It’s me, I haven’t left you; I’m well; I’m fine; I’m here.”
I was close to you at breakfast, I watched you pour the tea,
You were thinking of the many times, your hands reached down to me.
I was with you at the shops today; your arms were getting sore.
I longed to take your parcels; I wish I could do more.
I was with you at my grave today; you tend it with such care.
I want to re-assure you, that I’m not lying there.
I walked with you towards the house, as you fumbled for your key.
I gently put my paw on you; I smiled and said, “It’s me.”
You looked so very tired, and sank into a chair.
I tried so hard to let you know, that I was standing there.
It’s possible for me, to be so near you every day.
To say to you with certainty, “I never went away.”
You sat there very quietly and then smiled, I think you knew…
In the stillness of that evening, I was very close to you.
The day is over…I smile and watch you yawning
And say, “Good-night, I’ll see you in the morning.”
And when the time is right for you to cross the brief divide,
I’ll rush across to greet you and we’ll stand, side by side.
I have so many things to show you, there is so much for you to see.
Be patient, live your journey out…then come home to me.
— Author Unknown
August 18, 2015 @ 8:57 pm
I’m sending hugs to you both… And I’m praying. Xo
August 18, 2015 @ 9:35 pm
My heart hurts for you and anyone experiencing this. I’ve been through it: the roller coaster of hope and despair and the bargaining with whatever greater being there is and the guilt over anything and everything and the anger over not being able to “manage” and control this and fatigue and exhaustion from the worry and then the deep deep sadness of acceptance. All over silly little creatures that are more worthy of our love than most humans are.
I get it.
August 18, 2015 @ 9:38 pm
I’m so sorry. I’ve lost some special pets over the years, and it’s heartbreaking. I’m praying that you have a lot of time left together with your wonderful baby.
August 18, 2015 @ 9:52 pm
I am so so sorry about Elvis. How lucky that this sweet cat ended up with you. Lucky you. Lucky Elvis. Many caring thoughts sent your way. Hoping the good days are great days!
August 18, 2015 @ 10:00 pm
Oh Victoria, I’m so very sorry about Elvis. Your photos are fantastic and she’s quite a character. I’m now remembering my best friend Mommycat- she was that special kind of friend too. Make room in the sadness cave, I’ll pray for a miracle.
P.S. Speaking of miracles, my sister’s first cat, Muffin, also had terminal stomach cancer. My sister could never go thru with “it” and always brought Muffin back home after the diagnoses that it had spread further. Over the years she had 5-6 appointments but brought Muffin back home for another chance. Muffin lived at least 5 years after her diagnosis without surgeries and no outward signs of illness- happy to the end. Pets are a blessing.
August 18, 2015 @ 10:10 pm
I’m so sorry, Victoria. I’m glad Elvis has good medical care so you can have a longer time with her drool and her snuggles and the CUTEST head tilts in that series of three pics on the white background! What personality. People who pick on cat ladies (like I used to do) just haven’t had one of these of their own. Cats are awesome.
There’s a dog with a hashtag right now, he has terminal cancer but his hashtag is #livelikeroo because he is living every day to the fullest. He doesn’t know, he just lives for now. As we all should do, no matter what. Hugs to you.
August 18, 2015 @ 10:12 pm
I’m sorry to hear about Elvis. My thoughts are with you.
August 18, 2015 @ 10:14 pm
Dang, I could only read a few comments, and I’m bawling as I bet you are too. We love you and we love Elvis! I am also a cat lover (and have 6 indoor spoiled rotten kitties to prove it). We have had one kitty put to sleep due to age and medical issues, and one kitty perfectly healthy die in her sleep (in a warm laundry basket, her favorite place to be). It is hard no matter what. Enjoy her time left with you and take lots of photos! Eventually you will look back on them and smile. I’m so sorry you are going through this. The only platitude I have for you is don’t be so busy grieving before she is gone that you don’t enjoy the time you have left! I know she is your baby girl in every sense of the word.
If you give her a kitty hug from each of your readers every day, she will make it a LONG time! (Cause you have so many readers!)
August 18, 2015 @ 10:23 pm
Long time lurker, first time commenter – had to say I’m so sorry to hear of Elvis’s diagnosis. She is adorable and your pictures speak as many volumes as your eloquent words. My oldest (18) of three cats was diagnosed with chronic kidney disease in January ’13 and a little over a year ago lost both of her beautiful green eyes to retinal damage caused by high blood pressure. There were many times last year I thought she was a goner but after a 2.5 month ordeal with vets and specialists and surgeries and medications she pulled through and since then we’ve been able to manage her multiple maladies. I know one day she will inevitably leave me so I just try to treat every day I still have her as a gift. Wishing you many more ‘gift’ days with Elvis. <3
August 18, 2015 @ 10:25 pm
Nothing, absolutely nothing, even comes close to the unconditional love of a pet …. hang in there!
August 18, 2015 @ 10:50 pm
Bless you for loving her.