- Joined
- Jan 31, 2014
- Messages
- 5,234
- Purraise
- 2,583
Okay, crying here, now,...but they are not strictly tears of sadness, since you wrote such an amazing post, above, in Lulu's thread, which you allowed us all to be on the journey with your Lulu, and beating the hepatic lipidosis.Ugh...so it's taken me all of over a week to muster the strength to post this... But I wanted to tie loose ends as a means of a closing a chapter. I want to thank all of you amazingly supportive people. This thread has been beyond therapeutic and helpful for me. I wrote in it like a journal and that may not be everyone's cup of tea. But maybe someone else down the line will find some of this thread useful. Unfortunately, I had to say goodbye to Lulu on Monday of last week.
About 3 weeks ago, I woke up and noticed Lulu was having trouble eating and drinking. This was new behavior. I could see how hungry she was and that she just couldn't do either. Oh, I just broke down to see that... I probably wrote about this above but I don't want to check and rehash as it would just drudge up more feelings right now. So forgive me if I am repeating myself here. Anyway, I took that as a sign that it was time even though I didn't feel ready (I mean of course no one is ever ready). But I believe later that night she hunted and caught a mouse with such fervor & virility! I could post the video here but I don't know if it's allowed. The mouse seemed unharmed and I did let it go. But it might be unsettling still for some people to watch. Anyway, she started eating again. It's like she figured out how to adapt to the obstacles the tumor was causing. I did notice a pattern with the growth of the tumor; it went pretty much like this... pain/discomfort/some groaning one day --> tumor visibly bigger but within a day Lulu seems content and has adapted --- wash, rinse repeat. So it felt like the tumor was honestly growing every other day. On the off days, she would bounce back up and readjust. But it was growing fast, visibly bigger week after week.
Seeing this much fight in her and that she began eating and drinking again, I cancelled the appointment for euthanasia. I could not bare taking away her fight to live, yet. For the next 3 weeks, I swear it was the happiest healthiest weeks I had seen in her in months. She played. She snuggled in my arms every night. She was so glued to my hip. She was eating and drinking, though some days not as much. I really didn't observe the groaning anymore, either. AND she never lost weight. This was supposedly cancer, and she was gaining weight week after week all the way up to the end... As for her amazing strength & energy, it's almost as if this little tiny mouse sparked some sort of quality of life in her final weeks. .....bittersweet....
Because I struggled so much to put her down in that state while seeing the growth on her jaw continue to expand and affect her ease in eating and drinking, I made a hospice appointment to evaluate her. Hospice came in and also could not believe Lulu's strength and energy. She told me that if my cat was listless she would have advised days left. But seeing the condition she was in, she told me to take it week by week. That night, Lulu caught another mouse!! This time she brought it to me again as I was sleeping in bed...right by my head, mind you... with it hanging out of her mouth (all wiggling and what not). I could not believe that this cat with a giant bone tumor in her jaw who struggled to eat could catch a mouse in her mouth and then gift it to me! Twice in 1 month and she had never ever done this before in 14 years. Unreal... Again, the mouse seemed unharmed and scurried away. But Lulu was OMG...soooooo fast and strong. I could't keep up. I'm not 100% sure the mouse made it once I tried to save it. I probably should have let Lulu finish the hunt as per the mercy of both animals. But I was afraid she would choke or wind up with severe pain from a bite in her mouth.
The next morning...the unexpected happened. Despite Lulu's hunt the night before and that she was still eating, I finally "knew". I knew what I didn't know every day before. I knew it was time. I just felt it. People tell you you'll know, but I really never thought I would with her. Later that day, I noticed her struggling to eat again which only confirmed what I already felt. She seemed to have trouble swallowing and would gag even on baby food. I later learned that this was actually due to pain (I think it was mechanical from the tumor at first). I scheduled at-home euthanasia for Monday. This was a Thursday. I put her on the waiting list all weekend. I asked Lap of Love during hospice how I could create a peaceful transition for such a strong, energetic and yet skittish cat. They instructed me to bump up her gabapentin 2 hours before and then significantly pump up her buprenorphine an hour before the vet visit. I was so so so afraid her last moments would be sheet terror and us pulling her out of cubbies while she clung onto life and lost trust in me.
She rallied again all weekend! She even ate 300 calories of hard temptation treats Sunday night and more that morning! But I still felt it was time. If I let this go on another week, I think she would have really been suffering. I no longer felt I was taking her fight away. I felt I was saving her. I needed this feeling for my own mental health. She slept in my arms all night and I remember as she laid in my arms facing me, she stared into my eyes. It was kind of odd. Normally, there is some sort of action for me to pet her. This was atypical...you know, just staring at me. But I think we were both staring - maybe she knew... She had a good morning. She ate, watched the birds outside, reached up to hug me in the morning. I laid down on the couch. My ex brought my dog (he was staying with my parents so Lulu could feel safer while vulnerable and not worry about the animals fighting for my attention). I put the heated blanket that she loved on my lap. She ate and used the litterbox and then she jumped right into my lap - Like she was ready. She already had the gab but it didn't knock her out at all! I started giving her the bup syringes. She didn't fight me on a single one. She was sooooo relaxed, facing the opposite direction - probably to keep an eye on my ex and the dog. She heard the vet come from the back door but didn't move as she was pretty sedated. I allowed the vet to quietly put the last sedative in her from the back. Lulu never saw it or knew it was coming. Once she fell asleep, I rotated her so I could whisper in ear while the vet administered the final injection. She was gone in seconds. I do wish I was the last thing she saw and that I could have looked in her eyes while she drifted, but I felt it was more important to make this transition super peaceful and unaware even if it meant that I didn't get that one detail. She could still feel me as I stroked her.
Maybe you don't want the play by play. But it was important. It was sooooo important that she went this peacefully. And it was soooo wonderful that she went no longer yellow! I feel so horrible that she went from fatty liver right into oral cancer. It just seems so unfair to her. But I am so grateful that I could spend her last weeks and months the way I did and not with that dreaded awful fatty liver and how sick it made her. Getting her to survive that was still worth it for what little time I had left. And throughout these last 6+ months, our connection became so utterly indestructible. Our communication improved and with that I felt her trust me more and her love deepen for me. She was so glued to my hip right up to the end. She was drooling a lot when she drank and she would come to me to groom her...her mouth, her body. And gifting me with the mouse. I felt more connected to her in this last year than the previous 13 years I had her. THAT was the silver lining to this horrible trauma.
Now, it's time to focus on my dog and make up for last time.
This thread will certainly help others.
It's already helped me, tremendously, because of all that you have shared.
Medically the info is so valuable.
And having a first person account of everything you and your Lulu went through, is so valuable, too.
I was thinking of Lulu, and you, J Jenny22 ...last night. But I didn't know how to ask you, 'how you were doing?'.
It's weird, really, when I regret 'not asking' because of not wanting to bring up more pain, but at the same time, hoping that the other person is doing well, and coping with whatever they are going through.
Thank you a tonne, J Jenny22 ...for sharing the last chapter, though, to me, it's really just the last paragraphs...in your Lulu's physical life...since if you look at her whole life...the ending parts seem so painful, but the 'living parts' are much more meaningful...and we are all so lucky, to have these wonderful cat companions in our own lives.
The only part that is really tough, is when our animal companions get sick, and the 'knowing' that their lives are much shorter than our own. Accepting that, is so difficult. Not sure why. I mean most of us have had many animals in our lives, so I don't know why we always take it so hard. Probably because each one of them are special, at a special time in our lives, too.
With your Lulu, gifting you those mice,...maybe it was her way of saying..."take care of yourself", 'eat properly, exercise, do what you do best', and "thank you"..."for being My cat guardian". I always figure when a cat gifts you with a mouse, then they are saying, "you are part of their team, and thanks for feeding me, the good stuff,...so now I'll gift you some of the things I can".
It's kind of amazing, when I think about it.
(though, you are right, I don't want to see the little mice suffer either. 'Quick, painless deaths for mice', with cats, does not seem to be in their cat instincts. I hate it when they leave them alive, for us humans to deal with. yikes.)
May your Grief not last long, and your sadness heal quick, J Jenny22 .
Sending you Thoughts of only Strength, Peace and Love.
Run Like the Wind, sweet Lulu.
Wherever your sweet soul and spirit are, may they come back, from time to time, to look in on your cat guardian.
(and even if the dog bothered you at times, look in on him, too.
)
)...but just to do it for one last time. 
