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2014-09-30 - 10:39 p.m.
Hi. Everything is fine. I got a lot done today. The house is clean, my work clothes are laid out for the week, I even have my jewelry ready for each day and four towels rolled and ready by the shower. I prepped food so my work day meals can be fast and still delicious and nutritious. I've paid my bills and made a list of things I really need to get done in the next couple weeks so I can put all of that out of my head. Because my poor kitty is dying. I just want to focus on him right now. He has another vet appointment in the morning. If his numbers are worse than they were five days ago than this is it. This is it. I'm hoping for a bit of improvement since I now have him on fluids twice a day instead of just five or six times a week. And he's on another blood pressure medicine too. So things SHOULD be a bit better even though he is still dying. He WILL NOT survive this. I know that. He might rally for a couple months but that's it. This is not survivable. I know that, I know that, I know that. That's why, on Sunday, we ended up at the emergency vet with every intention of having him put to sleep. He was constipated, probably because he is chronically dehydrated from the kidney failure and he was struggling in the litter box. He struggled so hard that he threw up and then just curled up in the box and started to sleep. He's never done something like that. This cat, for nineteen and a half years, has never had a bit of dirt or residual poop on him. He is meticulous. And for the first time I had to clean his butt for him. I didn't want this to happen. While he was struggling I decided that this was it, I had to have him euthanized right now because I knew that every single day from now on it's going to be something. He's never going to get better. He's never going to feel really good again. So Eric drove us there. Eric went in and paid and set it all up and they were going to come to the car to get us when they were ready (they had another emergency to tend to right then). Eric came back to the car and said, "I hope he doesn't freak out like he does when they put the needle in." And that was it for me. Because he DOES freak out with needles. So I told Eric to go back in and tell them we had changed our mind. And we came home. I gave him some laxative and more fluids and we went to sleep. He had a small poop that night. But it's still not OK. He's dying. I just really need to get my strength up. I really don't want to drag this out. I really don't want him to be uncomfortable. I really, really don't. This cat has been through enough in his life. We'll see what happens tomorrow. For now I'm just bringing him food in bed (even though he gets up throughout the day to get dry food and water and go to the bathroom), he's getting massages and fluids (which I warmed today because it's rather chilly out) and opiates in small doses and he's on a heating pad. He should be OK for now. Right? Oh. Work is fine.
Life is fine.
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