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 @ 10:17 am
Wishing you happiness and peace during this difficult time.
August 18, 2015 @ 10:18 am
Victoria, I am so sorry to hear about your beautiful and sweet kitty Elvis. I know you will treasure every day you have with her.
August 18, 2015 @ 10:19 am
You and Elvis are both so beautiful! Keep her close and love her and she’ll always be with you. Thank you for bringing so much joy and fun into the world. You are a gift! Christine
August 18, 2015 @ 10:19 am
Wow, what an amazing cat! It’s easy to see how much she loves and adores you. I’m so sorry she is ill. I will keep you both in my prayers.
August 18, 2015 @ 10:20 am
Nothing. Absolutely NOTHING sucks more than pet cancer. I lost 17 year old Armstrong in 2003, and although I absolutely adore Ella and Diego, there is (arguably) NO CAT more fantabulous than Armstrong. I miss him every day. Enjoy every day with Elvis. She is so happy you are her human.
August 18, 2015 @ 10:20 am
SO sad to see this message. I have an old dude cat named Sidney who has feline dementia and it makes me love him even more! Elvis and you are lucky to have such a great life together, enjoy it all and she has comfort knowing you will be there for her, no matter what.
August 18, 2015 @ 10:20 am
From one cat mom who’s lost a beloved, darling cat of her own…I’m sorrier than I can even express with dumb words on a computer screen. She knows she is loved, and that’s all she could want from this world. You have made her life a joy. Don’t ever, ever forget that.
August 18, 2015 @ 10:20 am
Oh no…I’m so sorry. Sweetie, you don’t need to explain how you feel about Elvis. We know. Hugs and snuggles to Elvis…poor baby. He’s lucky to have you to take care of him and make sure he receives the best care and compassion. And you are lucky to have him…for all of his Elvisness.
You know, you have an awful lot of loyal readers, and not to sound like a swim fan, but we were all really starting to worry about you. I understand taking a break and focusing on what is REALLY important: those we love. And you don’t owe your adoring public an explanation…but please, 1890’s homeowner to 1890’s homeowner, a teensie tiny little “I’m on break” post would do wonders for my anxiety.
August 18, 2015 @ 10:22 am
aaaah, such a great sadness. As a dedicated pet lover (albeit dogs but never mind, pets are pets and they are all family members!) I share your sorrow, know about those feelings as of course, animals with much shorter lives leave us always wayyyy to early, and I’d like to thank you for expressing your feelings so eloquently. The bit about them being the BEST(EST) comforters is so true and the thankfulness for the times we are allowed in their life is never forgotten.
I wonder about the treatment though: Why oh why can’t we have the same considerations in human cancer medication? I know a number of people who would have loved to just get a bit more of ‘quality’ life time than the horribly distressing cures which, with one single exception (all in the circle of my friends/acquaintances), did prolong their lives but in the end made them die miserably anyway.
I am thinking of you and hope that Elvis has got a few more sparkly miaows in her before she joins her sisters and brothers of the four legged kind in pet-heaven.
August 18, 2015 @ 10:22 am
So sorry. This is just devastating. You have written an eloquent,touching, tribute to Elvis, and even though she can’t read, I am sure she can feel the love you have for her. I wish her more “good days” for both of you.
August 18, 2015 @ 10:22 am
You have skillfully and lovingly painted a deeply saturated portrait of Elvis and helped us to know the depth of your feeling for her. I am brokenhearted for you.
August 18, 2015 @ 10:23 am
My best friend who is an animal person in every sense says that sometimes humans just don’t do it for you, you know?
I do know. Really sorry to hear about your Elvis.
August 18, 2015 @ 10:23 am
Maybe your words weren’t exactly how you had planned… but they were perfect as they turned out. I never understood the practice of treating diseases in pets. I thought it better to just let them go….
Elvis (and you) have changed my mind.
Praying for both you and Elvis. ~ Michelle
August 18, 2015 @ 10:24 am
Oh, and give her a kiss on the ♥ shaped patch…
August 18, 2015 @ 10:25 am
Hugs to you Paul and Elvis, shes a tough one that one, and she could surprise you. It’s a hard thing, and there could be tough decisions ahead but know we are all here sending love healing and support xxxoooo
August 18, 2015 @ 10:27 am
So sorry to hear this, and believe me, I know all too well the road you’ve been walking down. My dog of 2 years was diagnosed with lymphoma in February, and has undergone chemo since then. In fact, yesterday was her last treatment (at least for now), and I’m very happy to say that she’s doing really well. But like you, I know that this remission will be temporary, and that the outcome will still ultimately be the same. But I’m enjoying watching her living her life and having fun (and we’re helping her work on her bucket list!). I’m trying to learn from her what’s it’s like to just live in the moment. I’ve never been good at that, and she has lessons left to teach me. I hope for Elvis and for you a long remission with lots of good times still ahead.
August 18, 2015 @ 10:33 am
wonderful comment. I say a wholeheartedly loud YESSSS to learning from our pets: Live the moment (and work the bucket list!) – thank you Mary
August 18, 2015 @ 10:27 am
Sending love and prayers to you both…a dear friend went this route with her dog and she got an extra 3 years! I know you’ll celebrate every day you have.
August 18, 2015 @ 10:27 am
I am so sorry–she is clearly a wonderful catkin. She has been fortunate to have you as family…
August 18, 2015 @ 10:27 am
I am so sad to hear about your Elvis. I had an Elvis too. He also had cancer. It was on his spine and terminal. We had him for two more years after his diagnosis. He was the most sweet loving kittie. He just loved to be touched, held and cuddled. We loved him so very much. We cherished the extra years we were given. I can imagine the pleasure and love your Elvis brings you, like nothing else. When I cat claims you you are so blessed. All they ever do is give full unwavering love and it’s all they want in return. We have been blessed as I can tell you have as well. What a precious gift no? My heart is with you, give your Elvis an extra hug from me. ?????
August 18, 2015 @ 10:27 am
I had an Elvis, but her name was Miah. I think they came from the same exquisite family. How lucky we have been to love them, even thought it’s for far too short a time. My heart aches for your sadness – but I do know that one day you will realize that this sadness is so deep because your love was so special. And that special love will be celebrated the rest of your life. Hugs to you and Elvis. Kim