So, I have to rant a little bit. If you read my previous post, you'll know that I've had a hard week (I had to put my cat to sleep). On top of that, I've had a hard month. Last week I was sick and in pain. I couldn't even stand up straight. I had to have an abdominal ultrasound and loratab. My new prescription glasses broke, and my cell phone started to not work or charge well. Then I had to put my cat to sleep this week. Then, not 24 hours later, my car died on me while I was out running errands. We had to buy a new battery, and we have to pay over $350 to have the transmission mounts fixed. I went in to work on Friday to hear that they had a difficult morning while I wasn't there: two dogs were attacked by another dog and they had serious head trauma (cracked skulls and such). They ended up euthanizing both dogs. I'm glad I wasn't there, cause I've been an emotional wreck as it is without seeing that. All my coworkers cried when they talked about it. I got to work that afternoon, went to open my Vanilla Coke (which had been sitting still for 10 minutes), and it exploded all over me and the floor of the front office where I work. Great. Then we had an emergency come in where the dog was bleeding rectally. It was in really bad shape, so we rushed it in to X-Ray to see what was going on. While it was on the table, he went into respiratory and cardiac arrest. We did CPR and revived him, and then took the X-Rays. Poor dog had GDV (Gastric Dilatation & Volvulus Syndrome), which is where the stomach bloats and twists, blocking the intestines and causing other internal damage. It's nasty stuff. The owners told us to go in to surgery (the only real option left for the poor dog other than euthanasia), so we did. While in surgery he crashed again, and the people in surgery did CPR and got him back again. Just toward the end of the surgery he crashed again and they couldn't revive him - he died on the table. That was not a pleasant phone call for the dr. to make. That poor family was devastated. Oh, and their car died in our parking lot. They're having a month just as great as mine. Work was going better today, but then we had two dogs that had gotten into a fight come in about ten minutes after we closed. We helped them, of course, but that meant we were there really late. It's a good thing I wore my red scrubs today, because I got bloody from those two dogs (and I felt really bad for one of them, he was so cute but his whole head was chewed up!). They went home tonight and at least they are doing okay considering what they've been through. Oh, and with all this craziness at work, one of our employees abruptly quit this week, so we were short handed. Great huh? And, to top it all off, they decided to postpone the new Harry Potter movie until next July!!! What the heck is that about?! I'm ready to barricade myself in my bedroom until August is over. Sheesh!
Okay, that rant felt good. I feel slightly better now...
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Thursday, August 14, 2008
My Powder
In October 2005, I came home from work one day to find my mom watching tv. She looked at me and said, "We saw a pretty white cat today with the most beautiful blue eyes for adoption at Petco. She reminded me of Puddy." Puddy was my mom's favorite white cat when I was growing up. I asked her why she and my dad didn't bring the cat home, and she just huffed and said, "Yeah, right!"
A couple weeks later my parents and I went to get our flu shots together, and I needed some crickets for my tarantula, so we stopped at Petco on our way home. Lo and behold, the white cat was still there. I liked her instantly (this is no surprise to those who know me) and I urged my parents to bring her home. My mom said no, because we already had three cats. My dad, however went over to take a closer look. It turns out that she was a nine-year-old cat with special needs that had been put up for adoption three months ago after her previous owner got married and gave her up. My dad and I felt bad for her, so we took her home. They reiterated to us that she had special needs and we said that it wouldn't be a problem because two of our other three cats were also special needs. My mom didn't put up a fight about us bringing her home, and actually helped show the new cat our house. Powder had come home.
We got Powder caught up on medical treatment that she needed (she was in dire need of a dental cleaning, and had to have some teeth pulled). She did very well at our house for a year, just having an occassional problem here and there due to her "food allergies" (that was the special need the people told us about). Then, in December 2006, she decided to eat some tinsel off the Christmas Tree and she threw up a lot. I took her with me to work (I had just started working at a veterinary clinic two months before, so that was good timing). We did an ultrasound to see if she had anymore tinsel stuck in her belly. She didn't, but the Dr. said that she did have an abnormally small kidney and some inflammation in the GI tract. She said that it was very likely that her "food allergy" was actually Inflammatory Bowel Disease or possibly cancer. The only way to know for sure was to open her up and take biopsies of the GI tract. I opted for a less invasive approach and got her a special food for cats that have IBD. It may seem strange to some people, going through all this for a cat I'd barely had a year, and hadn't had since she was a kitten, but those of you who know me well know that when I have a pet, I become attached extremely fast and I fall for them hard. Pets are my passion. Also, this happened just a couple weeks after my grandpa died from Alzheimer's disease. I had just lost him, I wasn't going to loose Powder.
Powder did well for a few months on the new food. She and I bonded even more: she would come down to my bedroom at night and lie on me and just purr. She had a very musical purr. It was a loud purr that seemed to have a higher pitched hum with it. It was very pretty. She would also nibble on me, and chase my feet and hands under the cover. During this time I had to put my cat Gus to sleep (his special needs were kidney problems), and Powder cuddled with me. However, this was May 2007, and she was starting to throw up and have diarrhea often. By September 2007 she had lost 1 1/2 pounds, which is a lot for an eleven-year-old cat. She also started hiding a lot and wasn't as playful with me. I was starting to get worried and I knew that something needed to be done quickly.
I took Powder in to my work again. Nothing showed up on bloodwork or x-rays, so there was only one way to know definitively what was going on, and that was doing the surgery that was recommended to me in December. We had a newer veterinarian at this time who wanted more experience doing exploratory surgeries (it's a good thing to know how to do quickly). I talked to Lindsay Yo (one of our best technicians, now our head technician) about assisting in the surgery, and she agreed, so I set up a date for the surgery. Powder was prepped and operated on, and they took six different biopsies from her GI tract. I was a nervous wreck, and poor Powder was very sore and miserable. However, we got the results we needed: Powder had Intestinal Lymphocytic Lymphoma. Yeah, cancer sucks.
So, Dr. Maloof and I started Powder on a chemotherapy regime that wasn't as invasive but had good results in other similar cases. We put her on Prednisolone daily, and she got Chlorambucil for three days every three weeks. It was oral medicine, so I was able to give it at home. She started eating more, and vomiting less. We did a Complete Blood Count on her every month and checked her every month. She became very popular at my work. She started putting on weight again and became playful again. She still had an occasional bout of diarrhea and vomiting, but not as much and not nearly as often. Dr. Maloof took great care of her, and I tried to spoil her. Powder took up permanent residence in my bedroom, with her bed on my bed, and she purred me to sleep every night. I even brought home a new cat (again this was an abandonded adult with special needs) and Powder teased her mercilessly. She was clinically in remission and I was amazed at how well she was doing.
Ten months after being diagnosed and starting treatment, she started to go downhill again, slowly but surely. The diarrhea was starting to come back more often, and she started vomiting a lot and there were some days that she wouldn't leave my bedroom, not even to eat. She was relapsing. Dr. Maloof did research into rescue treatments and gave them to me to research. I considered it, but ultimately knew that it wasn't worth it. She would only get a couple of extra months and it involved intravenous chemotherapy that can be harsh on the body, much harsher than the chemo she was already on. I felt bad, but I decided not to put her through that. She was getting more ornery every time I took her to the vet and poked her, and I couldn't put her (or myself) through that difficult treatment.
Last night, August 13, 2008, I had Dr. Maloof put Powder to sleep. I held her while the injection was given, and I knew right when she was gone, before the dr. was even done giving the shot. It was a difficult decision to make. She was starting to get sick with upper-respiratory problems, and I knew that her immune system wasn't doing so hot. She was vomiting more. She didn't eat for almost two days before I decided. When I weighed her last night she had lost a little bit of weight. The dr. and I agreed that it was the best. Do I think she could have gone on a little longer with a decent quality of life? Sure. But I couldn't stand watching her slowly deteriorate, knowing what pain and suffering was in store for her while she did. I couldn't stand watching her go through that. Maybe that's selfish of me, but I just couldn't do it.
I don't regret for one moment treating her cancer. She and I had an extra ten months of good quality life together. The hardest part was saying goodbye, and going to sleep alone last night. The room was too quiet. I missed her musical purr.
A couple weeks later my parents and I went to get our flu shots together, and I needed some crickets for my tarantula, so we stopped at Petco on our way home. Lo and behold, the white cat was still there. I liked her instantly (this is no surprise to those who know me) and I urged my parents to bring her home. My mom said no, because we already had three cats. My dad, however went over to take a closer look. It turns out that she was a nine-year-old cat with special needs that had been put up for adoption three months ago after her previous owner got married and gave her up. My dad and I felt bad for her, so we took her home. They reiterated to us that she had special needs and we said that it wouldn't be a problem because two of our other three cats were also special needs. My mom didn't put up a fight about us bringing her home, and actually helped show the new cat our house. Powder had come home.
We got Powder caught up on medical treatment that she needed (she was in dire need of a dental cleaning, and had to have some teeth pulled). She did very well at our house for a year, just having an occassional problem here and there due to her "food allergies" (that was the special need the people told us about). Then, in December 2006, she decided to eat some tinsel off the Christmas Tree and she threw up a lot. I took her with me to work (I had just started working at a veterinary clinic two months before, so that was good timing). We did an ultrasound to see if she had anymore tinsel stuck in her belly. She didn't, but the Dr. said that she did have an abnormally small kidney and some inflammation in the GI tract. She said that it was very likely that her "food allergy" was actually Inflammatory Bowel Disease or possibly cancer. The only way to know for sure was to open her up and take biopsies of the GI tract. I opted for a less invasive approach and got her a special food for cats that have IBD. It may seem strange to some people, going through all this for a cat I'd barely had a year, and hadn't had since she was a kitten, but those of you who know me well know that when I have a pet, I become attached extremely fast and I fall for them hard. Pets are my passion. Also, this happened just a couple weeks after my grandpa died from Alzheimer's disease. I had just lost him, I wasn't going to loose Powder.
Powder did well for a few months on the new food. She and I bonded even more: she would come down to my bedroom at night and lie on me and just purr. She had a very musical purr. It was a loud purr that seemed to have a higher pitched hum with it. It was very pretty. She would also nibble on me, and chase my feet and hands under the cover. During this time I had to put my cat Gus to sleep (his special needs were kidney problems), and Powder cuddled with me. However, this was May 2007, and she was starting to throw up and have diarrhea often. By September 2007 she had lost 1 1/2 pounds, which is a lot for an eleven-year-old cat. She also started hiding a lot and wasn't as playful with me. I was starting to get worried and I knew that something needed to be done quickly.
I took Powder in to my work again. Nothing showed up on bloodwork or x-rays, so there was only one way to know definitively what was going on, and that was doing the surgery that was recommended to me in December. We had a newer veterinarian at this time who wanted more experience doing exploratory surgeries (it's a good thing to know how to do quickly). I talked to Lindsay Yo (one of our best technicians, now our head technician) about assisting in the surgery, and she agreed, so I set up a date for the surgery. Powder was prepped and operated on, and they took six different biopsies from her GI tract. I was a nervous wreck, and poor Powder was very sore and miserable. However, we got the results we needed: Powder had Intestinal Lymphocytic Lymphoma. Yeah, cancer sucks.
So, Dr. Maloof and I started Powder on a chemotherapy regime that wasn't as invasive but had good results in other similar cases. We put her on Prednisolone daily, and she got Chlorambucil for three days every three weeks. It was oral medicine, so I was able to give it at home. She started eating more, and vomiting less. We did a Complete Blood Count on her every month and checked her every month. She became very popular at my work. She started putting on weight again and became playful again. She still had an occasional bout of diarrhea and vomiting, but not as much and not nearly as often. Dr. Maloof took great care of her, and I tried to spoil her. Powder took up permanent residence in my bedroom, with her bed on my bed, and she purred me to sleep every night. I even brought home a new cat (again this was an abandonded adult with special needs) and Powder teased her mercilessly. She was clinically in remission and I was amazed at how well she was doing.Ten months after being diagnosed and starting treatment, she started to go downhill again, slowly but surely. The diarrhea was starting to come back more often, and she started vomiting a lot and there were some days that she wouldn't leave my bedroom, not even to eat. She was relapsing. Dr. Maloof did research into rescue treatments and gave them to me to research. I considered it, but ultimately knew that it wasn't worth it. She would only get a couple of extra months and it involved intravenous chemotherapy that can be harsh on the body, much harsher than the chemo she was already on. I felt bad, but I decided not to put her through that. She was getting more ornery every time I took her to the vet and poked her, and I couldn't put her (or myself) through that difficult treatment.
Last night, August 13, 2008, I had Dr. Maloof put Powder to sleep. I held her while the injection was given, and I knew right when she was gone, before the dr. was even done giving the shot. It was a difficult decision to make. She was starting to get sick with upper-respiratory problems, and I knew that her immune system wasn't doing so hot. She was vomiting more. She didn't eat for almost two days before I decided. When I weighed her last night she had lost a little bit of weight. The dr. and I agreed that it was the best. Do I think she could have gone on a little longer with a decent quality of life? Sure. But I couldn't stand watching her slowly deteriorate, knowing what pain and suffering was in store for her while she did. I couldn't stand watching her go through that. Maybe that's selfish of me, but I just couldn't do it.
I don't regret for one moment treating her cancer. She and I had an extra ten months of good quality life together. The hardest part was saying goodbye, and going to sleep alone last night. The room was too quiet. I missed her musical purr.
Goodbye Powder, my beautiful girl.
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