Cancer Resources

Wednesday, February 10, 2016

The Immensities

Two weeks ago on Tuesday, I woke up and knew it was time.  This was the day I'd call the vet and take my 16-year old cat "Birdie" in for a hospice consult.  In reality, it was a euthanasia consult.  But I didn't want to call it that because then I might not be able to go through with it.  And I had to. 

Listening for birds...
 
Birdie had a very fast-growing tumor in his throat and neck that in only 3 weeks went from the size of a large grape to a solid collar around his neck.  I watched him carefully everyday for signs of struggle (like choking) and kept him as comfortable as possible.  Amazingly, he kept up all his normal routines (which were many), even eating the best he could during the several weeks the tumor grew daily.  At least I didn't have to take him in until 4:30 that day.  So there were a few more hours to say goodbye, as I had been doing for 3 weeks.  And appreciate his steadfast presence over the years.

Later that morning at 9:00 a.m., I heard the joyous news that my niece Marina had given birth to her first daughter in North Carolina!  News made all the sweeter because of Marina's previous difficulties in pregnancy.  "Willow Quinn Nicholson" is my sister's first granddaughter, my first grandniece, and everyone was ecstatic.  A new baby in the family is always such lovely news and so welcome. 


My grandniece....Willow Quinn Nicholson.... born to my niece
Marina and her husband Josh in North Carolina.
Birdie was just a baby when I rescued him at only 3 weeks old.  The scrawny parasite-ridden thing had been abandoned in a school parking lot.  I had to feed him from a bottle at first and it took the vets at Acorn several tries to get him to survive.  But live he did.  As one of the special orange tabbies, he had attitude to spare and was a fighter. 

As am I, it turns out.  About 11:30 a.m. on that same morning, I was at my 3-month follow-up with my oncologist.  The previous week was a PET scan -- the glucose uptake scan that detects any cancer activity in the body.  Dr. Kiwan announced that it was completely normal, which is always great news!  And not only that, in 6 more months after another CT scan, which would detect any size changes in lymph nodes, I won't need any more scans.  The riskiest time for relapse will be over -- the first two years after treatment.  So I'm doing really really well. 

And I actually feel really good now!  Once it got figured out that I had a drug allergy causing much difficulty over the fall and part of the winter, I feel better than I have in years.  I've been weight-lifting and even started running again.  I haven't run for years even though I tried many times unsuccessfully.  Having run track in college (800 meters), I loved running!  And over the years have fantasized about running again.  So I'm ecstatic about how well things are going, in so many ways. 

As I continued to reflect during that day, Birdie's life had gone very well.  He'd lived a long 16 years, and had been with me through many significant phases of my life.  From working as a public outreach specialist (a writing job I loved), becoming an artist, still working as a massage therapist, then retiring from corporate life, a nerve pain condition and health difficulties, going back to my first passion of nutrition and helping others with their health (as well as myself), then the past few years a lymphoma diagnosis and chemo treatments.  And now being well again. 


Birdie with his favorite
blankets.
Birdie was there through it all -- his routines embedded in mine because he wanted to be where I was.  He greeted me at the door every time I came home, was on my lap for every meditation and channeling session, and would only eat if I was present. He was also sensitive and wouldn't be groomed, wouldn't meow (except to make chirping noises when he heard birds outside), didn't like to be petted, and generally took life on his own terms.  He did what made him happy -- no more and no less.  He loved peanut butter, microfleece blankets, and his good friend Kingsee -- also rescued from being abandoned by a neighbor.  

Birdie and Kingsee were best
napping buddies.



At the end of that long day, I took Birdie back to Acorn Clinic -- where he first began his life in a sense.  The vet confirmed that it was indeed time.  The tumor around his neck, probably a sarcoma (one of the worst kinds), was already affecting his breathing.  I knew that taking him in would be a sad sad business -- euthanizing a beloved pet always is.  It seems near impossible to do! Yet it must be done if it can save the animal from suffering needlessly.  It was time for Birdie to go back "home". 

Because the day ended with my special kitty friend's death, there's no way I could feel joyful, even with all the wonderful news of the day that I was so grateful for.  In the end, it simply reminded me of the old Irish story of a man asking his friends "How are you?"  

"What way are you Paddy?"
In sepulchral tones, "Perpendicular, no more".

"What way are you Jack?"
"Keeping the best side out, like the broken bowl in the dresser."

"Jim, what way are you?"
"If I felt any better I'd see a doctor."

"What way are you Vincent?"
"Stumbling along between the immensities."
"What immensities?"
"The immensities of birth and death."


--by Adele Sonora
www.thepathofcancer.blogspot.com