Not for Lack of Wanting

Assignment: Write and 1500 word essay based around & using the sentence "I have never wanted anything so badly in my life." Below is my essay.

I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life. We were at the second specialist in a week and neither offered many options for the future. Though I tried to remain positive, it was becoming increasingly harder to keep hope for a treatment.

We’d been together, me and Roxy (or Miss Priss as I was prone to call her), for nine years—from the day I picked her out among the kittens available from the SPCA. A wee thing back then and only 10 weeks old, she melted my heart right off the bat when I found her curled up into a slightly older orange tabby. It was a ball of cuteness that even hardened men couldn’t ignore.

Two weeks earlier I’d asked my husband, Aaron, to take Roxy to the vet. She’d had a few questionable outcomes with trips to the litter box and I thought it should be checked out. I also instructed him to have her watery eye checked out. If she had an eye infection, she’d need antibiotic eye drops and I’d wrestle her to get them in as I always did.

The day Aaron took Roxy to her appointment I kept myself occupied with work. Though I didn’t believe there was reason to worry, I tended to find myself on edge whenever doctors were involved.

When I answered the phone expecting to hear news of what was ailing Roxy, I was greeted with a peculiar question from Aaron, “Did you notice this bump on Roxy’s head?”

“What bump? I never noticed anything.” I replied, confused by the question and searching my memory for anything I might have missed.

He went on to describe the protrusion the vet found on her forehead. It was palpable and even visible upon closer examination, but still easy to overlook due to her multi-colored tabby camouflage. The vet didn’t have a clear understanding of the bump’s origin or make-up and tossed around hypothetical diagnoses of a cyst or cancer. Before Aaron brought Roxy home, they performed a needle aspiration and sent the sample off for testing.

I spent the next few days trying to retain positive thoughts, talking myself through the options. If the bump turned out to be a cyst, the fix was easy—lance and drain. Should the test came back as cancer, we’d pick an aggressive treatment plan and take care of the situation. No problem.

Roxy’s doctor called after three days with news of what the biopsy uncovered. None of the scenarios I imagined could really prepare me for the diagnosis she delivered.

Cancer.

Cancer was in her sinus cavity, from what they could tell, but they had not yet done enough tests to determine the severity, the extent and the treatment options. Armed with the name of a veterinary surgeon, I immediately thanked the vet and called the number held in my shaking hand. After explaining the news I’d just received to the receptionist, I scheduled an appointment for the next morning.

Our time with the specialist proved to deliver even more dire news. The surgeon, a quiet man in his late 40s with balding hair, had a gentle demeanor. He spoke softly, but compassionately relayed the information we’d need in order to make our decisions.

“I’ve taken a look at the biopsy results your vet sent over and Roxy does have cancer. From what I can tell, it’s a mass in her cranial area where her sinuses are located. The mass is pressing against her left eye causing it to shift slightly from its socket. It’s also starting to crowd the area shared with the brain.” Dr. Trenton explained.

“Is there a treatment for her—surgery? Radiation or chemo?” I asked, inside praying for an easy answer from someone who had experience.

“I’m not sure which treatment would be appropriate or even useful in dealing with the cancer.” He went on to ask, “Has Roxy had any symptoms? Loss of appetite? Seizures?”

“No, she’s still eating and playing. She might be sleeping a little more, but she hasn’t had any seizures.” I answered.

“I’m very surprised to hear that. With the amount the mass is pressing upon the brain, I thought she would have had a few more symptoms. She really sounds like a miracle kitty.” The surgeon noted with surprise in his voice and further explained. “To really get a better understanding of what we are up against, we should get an MRI. I won’t know if surgery is an option until I get a clearer picture of where the mass is located.”

Agreeing with his recommendation to get further testing, I gave my consent to schedule the MRI appointment.

Aaron took Roxy to the clinic the next morning and dropped her off. She needed to stay there for a while in order for her to be put under anesthesia. It was the only way to keep her still enough for the images to come out clearly. I, again, took refuge in work and tried not to think about what she might be going through. Relief flooded me when the technician called to let me know Roxy woke up from the medication and could be picked up later. I’d happily spring her from the vet’s office as there’s a sadness only a pet owner can understand when they leave with their arms empty.

The results from Roxy’s MRI were explained to us the next day. The news left nothing to the imagination. As we were aware, the cancer had grown into her sinus cavity causing her left eye to shift. Because of the location of the cancer, surgery was not an option and the use of radiation and chemotherapy as a workable alternative had become very slim. Armed with additional information, we were referred to a veterinary oncologist in Northern Virginia. The doctor there was one of two in the state and she had become our last option for Roxy.

I scheduled a phone consultation with the oncologist to determine if the treatment she offered would be a viable choice. After Roxy’s test results and scans had been reviewed, it came down to a few simple questions.

“If Roxy was your cat, what would you do?” I posed, hoping her education and the hypothetical plight of her own pet would help me make a decision.

“I would do the radiation and chemo. Cats tolerate the treatment very well and have little to no side effects. From the results I have seen in our office with other cats, this might help her.” She responded.

“Will this cure her?”

“No, with this type of cancer, it’s very likely that it will come back in about six months. I have seen some of my patients last longer though. One even lived another year and a half before recurrence.” The specialist offered matter-of-factly.

I hung up the phone and suddenly felt the serious decisions looming heavily before me. I wished for many things: to crawl under the blankets and pretend like everything was ok, to find a miracle cure for Roxy, to let someone else make the call. Unfortunately, none of those things happened and I went about going over all the options in my mind.

Life went on as usual at home, with morning escapades and evening cuddle time where Miss Priss was showered with affectionate rubs. She still kept herself busy with her old tricks and habits—sitting on the back of the sofa to look out the window, attacking her brother, pawing us in the morning for food and partaking in meal time when she got her way.

After a very emotional conversation with Aaron, I decided to go ahead with the radiation and chemo treatments, all the while feeling in my heart that Roxy was one of those cats who would do well and survive longer than any doctor ever thought. She would be a survivor. She was a miracle kitty, after all.

Perhaps it was because I knew Roxy was sick that I began to notice her need to get away and hide in strange new places in the house. And maybe because I knew she was sick that my imagination started to drift to places I didn’t want to consider. Finally, I had to admit to myself that there was a real possibility she might not recover. The more I thought about it, the louder the voice of my heart became. If it was this hard to go through Roxy’s illness, how could I put her—or myself—through it all another time when she got sick again? I couldn’t. I called the next morning and cancelled the treatment.

As the cancer progressed, she slowed down a bit more—longer naps and fewer romps with her brother. She never lost her affectionate side or her playful nature and because she still seemed so much like herself, I struggled trying to understand how I would know when it was time to make the final decision.

Though I had spent the last few days in a constant state of sadness and reflection, I was able to clearly see when it was time to take Miss Priss on her last car ride. The cancer growth had progressed in such a way that her left eye protruded greatly, causing the eyelid to flip inside out. It was a sign I could not ignore and asked Aaron to call and make the appointment.

As we drove home after Roxy’s last trip, tears ran down my cheeks as my mind flashed through the wonderful times I shared with her. What a miracle she was to my life!

Moving Ahead

It's been a week since we took Miss Priss to the vet & wished her well on her trip to the Rainbow Bridge. I have to admit it's been quieter. I don't know that it's so much a physical quiet as it is knowing there is a little less kitty in the house.

Moodles has been vocal this week. He's always been a talker, mind you, but this week he seems to want to know where I am just a wee bit more than usual. After losing Roxyann, having a kitty cuddlebug has been a great comfort.

I've been reading "All Pets Go to Heaven" by Sylvia Brown (in case you were wondering, yes, she's the psychic Montel Williams always used to have on his show). I needed something that was going to give me comfort with Roxyann moving onto "The Other Side". If you believe in things such as this, read the book. There are great stories about connections people have with their animals and the ways our pets communicate with us when they pass on. It was just what I was looking for!

We've been talking about getting another cat. I never wanted either cat to be an only kitty in the house. I feel with 3 dogs in residence they need their feline companion for 'back up'.

I have specific qualities that we need in a new addition to the family. Some of them are:

• Loves Moodles like no other & projects those vibes to him in such a way that he wants to love & cuddle with him/her
• Is not picky about food (Roxyann was VERY picky!)
• Learns how to get along with the dogs, might even play with them
• Doesn't want to run outside everytime there is an open door (Rox was an escape artist in the making!)
• Might like to sleep with me occasionally, but doesn't feel the need to join the current dog-cat sandwich I sleep in

See... those aren't too much to ask for are they? I have a problem though - is there a 'trial & error' part to getting another cat I might be able to use? How else am I going to know if the fuzzy little kitty that sucks me into loving him/her is going to fit the bill above?

I guess it doesn't matter... Once it  gets to the "love" stage, it's all over for anyone in the vicinity of the fuzziness!

You Never Know When...

When buying a house of one's very own, all of us have different lists of things that are 'important' to us. Whether its vinyl siding, paved drive, 4 bedrooms, dual heat pumps, gas range, walk-in attic -- the wants are vast & varied.

The first house I bought, when I was single & living on my own with my sister, had vinyl siding, a paved drive, multiple baths & room for the 2 of us (or 1.5 since she came & went a lot). But what I really wanted in my new house were... cats. I had a cat growing up & thought they are the coolest animals. I'd stand up and argue with anyone who didn't think they had as much or more personality as dogs.

On Labor Day, 2001, I set out with my group to find the two most perfect cats to take up residence in my house. I only had one 'type' of cat in mind - an orange tabby; the other cat color didn't matter as long as I ended up with a male & female. I had names picked out.

We left a little pet store in Southside with Roxy (Roxyann) & Riley (Riley being the orange tabby; Roxy was a little multi-colored kitten very attached to Riley. I picked them because they were sleeping together, wrapped in each others' paws). Armed with all the goods that two little kittens could need, we went back to my house to introduce them to their new home. The kittens & I were a happy little family. They were full of love and mischief and fun; making me laugh & keeping me on my toes.

In the process of getting the usual kitten shots, it was discovered that Riley had FIP - an incurable disease that, in his case, affected his neurological system. He crossed the rainbow bridge the day after Christmas 2001.

Roxy suddenly became an only child and loved the attention. She learned to fetch better than some dogs I know and was full of life enough for that little house. I taught her to walk around outside on a harness and leash & she love all things green, so the outside was perfecft for her!

But she didn't stay the only child forever... we welcomed her new little brother, Schmoo (Moodles) in July of 2002. I wouldn't say they 'hit it off', but they played together & tolerated each other. Roxy definitely let him know SHE was the boss & he was ok with that - probably because he's a mama's boy.

We morphed into a new family unit dealing with the changes most lives have - jobs, significant others, moves, dogs. Oh yeah, when I moved in with, & soon after married, my boyfriend, the cats & I went to live in his house with his two DOGS - those smelly, noisy, sloppy critters - Jake (Jakester) and Sydney (SydSyd). What a transition that was! I recall having to go INTO the reclining sofa to get Schmoo out. He was hiding in such a way it almost required assistance from the fire department!

Eventually there came to be a little peace in the valley (though some days that's still under debate). The cats have their space. The dogs have theirs. And look out if ever the two shall meet!

I have mentioned previously in my blog the story of Miss Roxy & her diagnosis of cancer. I've talked about the decisions that have been weighing heavy on my mind. In the end, we decided not to put her through treatment. I couldn't do it to either her or me knowing the cancer would eventually come back & we'd find ourselves right back in the same position we are in.

My little girl has been at home with us, going about her daily routine, though it's a bit slower & involves more sleep now. She's lost weight & the cancer has pushed her left eye from its socket in a manner than might make some people turn away. Through it all, she's been a sweet, loving, tolerant, beautiful little kitty. She's amazed our vet, my family & me. Knowing she doesn't have a lot of time left, I have taken extra pictures, given more pets and talked to her every chance I've had.

This week her eye has become really bad. Though she doesn't seem to notice it, I know it must be painful and unnatural & when I think about myself having to deal with something like that, it's unfathomable how she's still so much herself.

But Cop'er & I decided this week we needed to make the best decision for her. She's starting to look more like skin & bones in addition to the change in her eye. And though the surgeon optimistically told us we might have 2-4 months with her, we don't.

Last night, I slept in the room she has been occupying. I loved on her, talked to her & told her how much she means to me.

Today, Cop'er & I took her to cross the Rainbow Bridge... on her way to be with her brother, Riley. We stayed with her until the end, whispering how much we loved her, what a brave, beautiful kitty she has been & when we will see her again. It could easily be one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make. I didn't know that 9 years ago a little furball would steal my heart the way she did.

I love you, baby girl. RIP.

There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.
~ Washington Irving

To read more about the Rainbow Bridge...

Heavy Decisions

For a few weeks I have had the news of my kitty, Roxyann, weighing on my mind. She went to the vet, then to the surgeon and then I had a consultation with an oncologist.

None of the answers they gave were ones I longed to hear.
No treatment out there is going to save my Miss Priss.
No information made the decision FOR me.

Rox has the option of doing radiation & chemo with few side effects - far fewer than us humans have with that type of treatment. But it's not a cure... and eventually the cancer will come back. No one knew how long she would be cancer free and barring a miracle, their 'long-term' was only 18-24 months.

Cop'er let me make the decision about what to do. He asked all the same questions I did - how would she tolerate the treatment? Would she go blind in both eyes? How much will is cost? Will she have to stay there?

I got all the answers to our questions. I talked it over with Cop'er. I made a decision. Roxyann would have the treatment. She has an appointment for Wednesday.

Today I started to wonder if I was really doing the right thing. How do I even know what the 'right thing' is? I love that little kitty - the other half of the pair I adopted 9 years ago. She's been my baby, my friend, my comedian, my confidant, my sidekick, my pest, my joy, my companion... my sweet little girl.

All I can strive to do is what's best for her. And right now, I don't know what that is.

The ROXY FILES

I can't believe it's been a week since I last posted something! Where does time go? I think it was all a blur after Monday, when I got the news from the veterinary surgeon about Roxyann. He told us that it was cancer; it was very invasive & was down into her eye, her cranium & pushing her brain slightly.

Talk about devastating news! I was crushed. I held it together long enough to talk to the surgeon on what he thought could, should, would be done at this stage. After our conversation, I let Cop'er know the results & all we could do was keep her happy.

I came home & loved on my lil girl... Roxyann has been with me a long time. I adopted her & her 'brother', Riley, from the SPCA a few months after I purchased my first house. Riley was diagnosed with FIP when he was still a kitten (for those of you who don't know, FIP is an incurable, spreadable disease that strikes the nervous system). I had to put Riley to sleep the day after Christmas, just a mere 3.5 months after I adopted him.

Roxyann became an 'only child' for the next 6 months. She learned how to fetch like a champ, loved the attention of all who walked in the door and ruled the house with her playful ways. The chance to be an only child was short-lived, as it was never my intention to only have one cat. I wanted 2 so they could play together & keep each other company.

Welcome, Moodles. It was me, Moodles & Roxyann for several years after that... living in our house and keeping each other entertained.

I've had both Roxyann & Moodles longer than I've known Cop'er... there's something to be said for all that we have been through together. They have definitely helped keep me sane, listening & loving just when I've needed it.

I received another call on Friday from the 1st vet we talked to (who referred us to the surgeon) about Roxyann. She called Miss Priss a "miracle kitty"... She also suggested that we make an appointment to see an oncologist in Northern VA about Roxyann. In conversation with her about the ROXY FILES, it was mentioned that radiation therapy might be an alternative. (We originally asked the surgeon about this, but he said it would likely blind her-not an effect we were willing to do to her). While I don't know that the oncologist is going to have a 'cure' for our kitty, Cop'er & I agreed that a conversation about it couldn't hurt. I'll be calling in the morning to see when they can fit us in.

Did I mention that Roxyann will have to travel in the car for 2 hrs there & 2 hours back??? I might be the in the crate after that!