She's Gone

TaryTerre was right on the money about Ernie's limp.  She was doing pretty well when I got up on Saturday, but by early afternoon her back legs gave out and she could no longer stand.  I called Walker home from his mom's, and we contacted the vet.  The clinic was closed but one of the doctors agreed to meet us there later that afternoon.  I wasn't sure Ernie would last that long.  All afternoon I held her.  Finally, I handed her over to Diva so I could get ready to go.  Diva was amazing - she laid down next to Ernie, petting her to keep her calm.  When she could sense Ernie's distress, Diva picked her up and just held her until it was time for us to leave.

I didn't want to crate her, just wrapped her in her blankie and carried her to the car.  Her breathing got ragged and she started struggling in my arms.  Walker drove like a bat out of hell.  We let ourselves into the clinic, Ernie barely hanging on.  True to form, though, when the vet leaned in to pet her Ernie lifted her head, looked the vet right in the eye, and growled at her.  Then she peed all over me.  That's my girl!  Feisty to the end.

I keep looking over at her spot on the sofa to check on her.   I probably will for a while.  I'm glad my little girl isn't hurting any more, but I miss her so much.

Downhill

I called Ernie's vet yesterday morning, even though Walker and I had agreed to let nature run it's course.  She still isn't eating much, and I couldn't believe she isn't suffering.  I decided that I've had Ernie for almost 23 years but I've only had Walker for eight.  Ernie has seniority.  Besides, my mom taught me at a young age that it's a woman's prerogative to change her mind.  So I did.

The vet agreed that bringing Ernie into the clinic would cause her too much stress, so she made up a syringe full of antibiotics and left it for us at the front desk.  Walker picked it up and I administered it as soon as he got home.  It's basically a last ditch effort to keep Ernie comfortable while we wait for her time to go.  The vet said it will take a day or two to work.  If she isn't perked up and eating by then, she won't ever be.  I'll be sticking close to home again this weekend, taking care of my girl.

The good news is, apparently at this stage it's likely Ernie isn't feeling much pain.  The kidney failure causes her thinking to get fuzzy, so she doesn't likely realize she's sick.  Mostly she sleeps.  It's not much, but it's comforting.

Just to Recap......

I realized that I have some new followers who probably don't know what's up with Ernie, so I wanted to say, first of all, welcome to my new friends. Second, about my kitty, Ernie:  she's nearly 23 years old, and she has kidney failure and cancer.  We opted not to treat the cancer, since there is no cure for the kidney failure and honestly?  At 22 years and ten months old, Ernie is the oldest feline patient at our vet clinic. Why ruin whatever time she has left with chemotherapy?  She already endures daily injections of subcutaneous fluid and twice daily eye drops, along with meds for chronic constipation. I thought that adding additional medical treatment would reduce the quality of her life more than it would help her.  She does not appear to be in any pain, but a couple weeks ago she developed a cancer related eye condition that the vet said indicates the beginning of the end for my baby girl.

Since that night I've turned into one of those helicopter moms, hovering over her trying to determine how she's feeling at any given time.  We keep a spreadsheet of her meds and her litter box activities, and I try to keep track of what she's eating. It's hard, sometimes, as she helps herself when she has the opportunity.  She become a food thief if you leave a plate unattended.  Or, you know, take dinner off the stove and set it on the kitchen table and turn your back.  We once caught her with her head in a pot of hot taco soup, slurping away.   Lucky for us, McDonald's is close. She also once batted a Krispie Kreme out of my hand and chomped it down.  Who ever heard of a cat eating donuts?  Anyway, Ernie has always had a bit of a prickly disposition, so it wouldn't surprise me one bit to learn that her hunger strike this weekend was designed to get me to back off. 

Except I know it's not.  I know that our time together is growing short, and I'm trying to be strong so I can do whatever I need to do to help Ernie.  I truly appreciate the support and kindness of my blogger pals.  This has been really, really hard and I'm very grateful to all of you.

More of the Same

Ernie's hanging in there, and so are we.  Walker and I stayed up with her all night, which we realized in hindsight was pretty dumb, because we both crashed around the same time.  Today we're going to sleep in shifts.  I don't want her to be alone, in case she wants comfort at some point. Right now she seems to want to be left alone.  Still not eating, still not talking. 

Just a Quick Update

All was well at my oncology appointment.  I do not have to see the oncologist again  for six whole months.  Wahoo!  Of course, I still have to have a mammo in April and see the breast specialist at that time, too, but hey, we're making progress. 

It's just about the one year mark from when I finished radiation.  The oncologist says it takes at least a year for the tissue to heal and to get your energy back.   So I should be pretty much "as good as it gets" with all this.  My treatment area is as healed as it will ever be, so the dark patches on my skin are permanent now.  Small price to pay.  I'm using a skin cream with hydroquinone to lighten the radiation tattoos.  If I could remember to use it every day it they would probably be almost gone by now.

Miss Ernie has been tolerating her eye drops pretty well.  She's lost more weight, though.  She is just fur and bones now.  It breaks my heart, but she's very strong and very feisty so what do you do?  When she stops bossing everyone around we'll know it's time to say good-bye.

Walker thanks y'all for his birthday wishes.  We had a nice dinner together, just the two of us, before we went to work Thursday night.  I wanted to tell the server that it was Walker's birthday but he didn't want me to.  He doesn't like when they all gather around and sing. I wanted to do it anyway.  I'll never take birthdays for granted again.

Ernie Strikes Again

Yesterday, Walker made a delicious dinner of roasted chicken and garden salad.  When we sat down to eat, Ernie came running, begging as she always does for her share of the chicken.  She actually likes salad, too, but cutting it small enough for her is a pain so she rarely gets it. Anyway: I wasn’t fast enough dicing her meat up so she showed her impatience by putting her feet up on my leg and letting out a wail.  I looked down at her and about lost my lunch -  her left eyeball looked like it was full of blood.

 

It wasn’t like that when I went to bed that morning, so I figured she had injured herself somehow during the day while Walker and I were both asleep. I immediately called the vet, who agreed to see us right away last night.  I called my office to let them know I would be late and bundled Ernie into her crate.  Off we went.

 

Ernie is a bit of a novelty at our vet clinic, as she is their oldest feline patient.  They are all amazed at how well she gets around and how feisty (read: mean) she is.  Four and a half pounds of mouth and attitude, that one.  Bless her heart.  Ahem.

 

So they started their exam while I sat on a bench and watched.  There was a lot of fighting and a lot of hissing and a lot of spitting.  There was a little peeing on people and a very little sitting quietly.  In the end, the tests were done and the news is not good.  The bloody eyeball is caused by an infection.  The infection is caused by cancer. They can treat the infection with eye drops but it will keep coming back, since the cancer isn’t going anywhere.  My poor little girl.  The vet said she believes the eye is painful.  I got the drops and put some in immediately, so Ernie should be getting some relief soon. 

I asked about euthanasia but the vet said what I have been saying:  Ernie has too much fight left to give up on her right now.  She is not ready to go yet.  We're taking it one day at a time.

Kitty Gets a Chef? Not So Much

I spent the better part of the weekend in the kitchen, stirring up concoctions to try to tempt Ernie.  I was not very successful.  We decided to try adding Metamucil to her food, but she didn't care for that.  You have to be careful giving Metamucil to a kitty.  If she doesn't drink enough she can get dehydrated, and if it doesn't work in a couple days it can make the problem worse.  I started with a half doses in a couple different kinds of food and she said, "No, thank you!" to each one, it so we moved on.

The vet recommended adding canned pumpkin to Ernie's food, but she wouldn't eat that, either.  So I tried mixing in a little cream cheese - her favorite - and she ate a bit of it, but not enough to make a difference.  Kitty gourmet attempt number three was a take on a recipe I make for the kids - butternut squash mac & cheese.  I got the recipe from Rachael Ray's website.  The kids love it and Ernie begs for table scraps, so I decided to try a modified version of the sauce.  No noodles.  I used coconut oil instead of butter, a generous pour of low sodium chicken broth, a touch of half & half, some pureed squash, and a few shreds of cheese to hide the squash taste.  She loves it, but it hasn't worked. This is the one I had high hopes for.  She's had three servings of it, and we'll let her finish the batch, so maybe it will kick in eventually, but when she's had it before the results in by the end of the day.

Walker and I are not in agreement over what to do next.  I had a deadline of today, if she wasn't having more luck going potty she was going back to the vet.  Walker thinks we should just let her be, as she gets totally stressed out at the vet and they already told us there's nothing different they can try.  She seems fine, when you watch her.  She's active and vocal, she eats well, she pees.  But, you know, she has to be uncomfortable.  I can't stand knowing that and not doing anything to try to help her.

Who's the Boss? Oh, Yeah - Ernie

Ernie's new coat didn't work too well.  Turns out the outer layer of fabric has this plasticy coating on it, like a rain coat.  Which means first that it's fairly heavy, and also that it makes noise when Ernie moves.  She wanted no part of it, and honestly, I do not blame her.  I wouldn't want to wear a heavy, crackly coat either.  Time for plan B.

We have a couple of those heat pack things that you warm up in the microwave.  One of them is a rectangular rice bag with a pink flannel cover but Walker tend to favor that one when he has body aches, so I used the other one, a tube filled with buckwheat kernels.  I didn't want Ernie to lay on it - I thought it might be too hot for her - so I got out one of the puppy blankets that we got when we used to take care of my sister's dogs during the day.  I folded the blanket and tucked the heat pack inside. Ernie didn't seem to want anything to do with that, either, probably because when you heat it it gives off a smell a bit like bread baking.  But I set her on it, held her there for a minute, and she figured out pretty quick that this thing was giving off heat.  She curled up on it and slept for hours.

Eventually these heat packs cool off.  Ernie will go get herself a snack and come back to a cool blankie.  She lets us know, loudly, when she needs a reheat.  She's got the whole family jumping through hoops.  Even the kids take reheat duty seriously.  Then Walker decided that Ernie really should have a bigger heat pack, maybe one that she can lay her whole body on.  So he went out to the fabric store.  The ladies who work there just love him, so he had no trouble finding help.  He told his new friend that he needed to make a heat pack for his cat, he wanted the fabric to be soft, and by the way, the cat likes pink. Oh, yes, he absolutely did. He proudly brought home a length of pretty pink flannel, 100% cotton because that is the  recommended fabric for use in the microwave. My mom has been bribed into sewing it up.  For the cat.  Ahem.

She Hates Me Now

Ernie's kidney disease has caused her to lose nearly half of her body weight.  She's pretty much fur and bones these days.  With the colder weather we were concerned that she's not comfortable, but it's not really cold enough to turn the furnace on.  So we borrowed something from her puppy cousin:

She's not too happy with me these days.  But at least she's a little warmer.  Since she doesn't seem to be trying to take it off, I've ordered a jacket just for her.  It's longer and made of a thicker fabric.  She'll probably be putting herself up for adoption after that.

Test Results

Ernie's doctor called yesterday with some baffling news.  Ernie's blood work came back almost identical to the tests done in May.  The vet says that's pretty unusual, as there isn't a lot that can be done for kidney disease and at Ernie's age, kitties tend to decline quickly.  Ernie seems to be in a holding pattern of her own.  She also is not hyper thyroid,  yet she has all the symptoms.  The vet thought there was a possibility Ernie has cancer.  They could do xrays to be sure, but the vet wasn't confident that Ernie would be cooperative enough to get clear pictures, and I don't think I would choose to give her chemo anyway, what with the failing  kidneys.  So we're just going to keep doing what we're doing and see what happens.

My doctor did not call me, which is unusual, so I called her only to find out she's on vacation this week.  One of the nurses gave me my test results.  Surprisingly, I did better than I thought I would.  My triglycerides fell to 183 from 275.  The doctor was shooting for 199, so that was good news.  But then the nurse said they usually want that number under 150.  The other thing the nurse told me was that my LDL was elevated, but I must have written the number down wrong cause I wrote "103" and according to the trusty internet, that is near optimal.    The overall panel was in the normal range, though at the higher end.  Sigh.  Not sure what happens now, as my doctor is out of the office, but it sounds like I'll be eating nasty fish oil capsules for a while yet.

My Ernie, Again

Ernie has a doctor's appointment today.  Hopefully we won't sleep through that one, too.  We've been giving Ernie fluid injections under her skin since July, but found out that at least since last week she's been hiding behind the kitchen table and pushing that fluid back out.  We inject it between her shoulder blades.  Apparently, she figured out a way to arch her back to cause the fluid to shoot back out through the needle puncture.  I found the first puddle last Tuesday, but we thought it was because someone over watered a house plant in the same area.  Then I found puddles the next day, and the day after that, and I developed the theory that Ernie was somehow causing it.  The fluid is clear with no noticeable scent so I was pretty sure it was her injections, and sure enough:  I followed her after the injection on Sunday and caught her in the act. The vet said that Ernie's kidneys are getting weak and without the twice daily fluid she will live for maybe a month. They are going to check some things and see what, if anything, can be done to help her.  It's not looking very promising but I'm trying to be optimistic.  All I know is, if they tell me Ernie is suffering, I will let her go.

UPDATE:
Ernie's appointment went better than I expected, if you can consider her devil cat attitude - biting, hissing, growling, peeing on the vet - a good sign,  I do, as when she's quiet at the vet it means she is very sick.  The vet ran some blood tests and will have results on Friday.  She was very nice but seemed skeptical about Ernie deliberately purging her fluid.  I know I must sound crazy but I watched her do it.  She paced around til she found her spot and assumed a position with her back arched that she does not normally get into. I'm tempted to try to video it, to show the vet.

The theory is that because Ernie has lost weight, she does not have the fatty tissue required to absorb the injected fluid.  It's likely that she has an overactive thyroid gland, which is treatable and is causing her to lose weight even thought she eats like a hormonal teenager.  So if that is the case, she could get better, somewhat.  She's still going to be 22 years old with dodgy kidneys and, apparently, some arthritis and some continuing issues with mild constipation. Her fighting today tells me that she is not ready to say good-bye just yet.

Just a Few Random Bits

Ernie had her follow up at the vet.  Walker had to take her, as I'm still on the wonky schedule at the office.  He called me as soon as they got home, and he sounded....shaken.  Ernie must be feeling better, because he said she was not very well behaved this trip.  The vet, a very diplomatic gentleman, told Walker that Ernie gave him a urine sample he didn't ask for.  Walker said she was making noises he had never heard from a cat before, and she spit on him several times on the drive home.  I bet next time he puts her crate in the back seat. 

The vet said Ernie is responding well to treatment, but he also warned that we need to be realistic.  She is well over twenty-two years old.  If we give her the special diet and daily fluid injections, she could live up to a year.  If we stop the injections, she would live maybe a month before her kidneys shut down.  She's much less tolerant of the fluid injections, but we do give her some "juice" every day.  She's figured out this move where she bobs her head down really fast, which will dislodge the needle if I'm not holding it in.  So I hold it in, even though the extra pressure slows down the fluid drip and the process takes twice as long.  She hasn't fussed to the point where  I feel like we should stop the injections.  At least not so far.  We're taking it one day at a time.

By the end of this week, I should be back to my normal work schedule.  Which means I go in later in the afternoon, but I have to stay later, too.  This time of year I love my schedule, as I have lots of time with Diva during the day.  It's also starting to get light out when I get home, so I sometimes take my bike for a trail ride after work.  Most of the year I can't do that ~ too dark.  I love summer.

I haven't done a weigh in for a couple days, mostly because I haven't been great about sticking to my plan.  A while back a neighbor's mailbox was run over in the middle of the night, so Walker and Bro went over and put in a new one for him.  He thanked them with a packet of tickets to a fund raiser breakfast at the VFW.  Holy cow, that breakfast was good!  The food was pretty well salted, though, and I generally try to avoid salt.  So I knew I'd be holding water weight for a couple days.  Then Bro made lasagna for dinner - not exactly lean or green as my diet recommends. But ~ today at the office my coworker told me I look skinny, then when I put my keys in my pocket my pants slid down to my hips.  While mooning the office staff is really bad for them, it was pretty good for me.  I think it signals progress. I've also learned the hard way that if I need to pick something off the floor, I need to squat, not bend over, or I'll be flashing whoever is nearby.  My tops are loose, too.  With all the parts of me that should be covered falling out of my clothes, I think some shopping may be in order.  But not too much - I have a ways to go yet.

I Hope Walker Really Loves Me.....

My Ernie cat is going to the doctor tomorrow.  I called a vet we haven't seen in a while, and explained how she she hasn't been eating much, and I explained how she gets aggressive an agitated when we bring her to the doctor.  This vet agreed to see her without sedation to try to get a blood test and maybe a urine sample.  The urine probably won't be a problem.  She uses her pee as a weapon at the vet.  I know y'all probably think I am exaggerating, but I can assure you: she is five and a half pounds of fluffy fury when she goes to the doctor.  She hisses, spits, bites, scratches, and, if she's really mad, flips onto her back and shoots balls of poo at the doctor with amazing aim.  She has torn apart exam rooms, broken stuff, peed everywhere, and generally wreaked havoc.  Yep.  It's an adventure.  Between the yowling and the crashing of equipment to the floor, the people in the waiting room are more than a little nervous when our door opens.  So I know y'all will find this hard to believe, but I did not purposely schedule the appointment during my work hours.  That was totally up to the vet clinic, as they had no morning or early afternoon openings for a week.  I did not stick Walker with this duty on purpose.  Really.

Ahem.

It sounds like Ernie may have a hyperactive thyroid. There are a couple things the vet wants to check for, but based on the symptoms that's where I'll lay my odds.  I can feel a knot in her neck, but I don't know if that's her thyroid gland.  It's in about the right spot.  Anyway: I feel better now, knowing that we can at least try to help her without the risk of sedation.  If they can't pin her down long enough to get blood, we'll have to move on to Plan B.  Right now, I don't actually have a Plan B.  So please, cross your fingers for us.  We'll need all the help we can get.

My Baby, Ernie

Once upon a time, a guy I thought was prince charming brought me a very special gift, hidden away in the pocket of his coat:  a tiny gray kitten with big blue eyes and a little patch of white on her neck.  My roommates and I were not exactly allowed to have pets, but the apartment had mice, so Roomie #1 had adopted a gray cat named Sophie.  Roomie #2 was a raging Bette Midler fan, and Bette had two characters named Soph and Ernie in her act.  Roomie #2 agreed to let me keep the kitten only if I named her Ernie.  So I did.


That was 22 years ago.  Ernie and I have been through a lot together, including a succession of kitty brothers and kitty sisters.  She has outlived them all.  Though Walker likes animals, he's not into being a pet owner.  He's not keen on adopting any more furry kids.  Ernie was my first baby, and will likely be my last.

It's not easy watching her get older, seeing her slow down.  She's lost a lot of weight, even though she eats well.  She's been wobbly on her feet.  She doesn't appear to hear or see well.  She startles when I reach to pet her, as if she didn't know I was there. Sometimes she tries to jump onto the sofa and doesn't make it.  All of this scares the heck out of me and reminds me that her days with us are limited.

But today, she broke my heart.  She was walking through the kitchen when her back legs went out from under her and she toppled over.  I went to pick her up but she scooted away from me, on her front legs.  She kept trying to stand but her back legs did not want to hold her up. She would not let me pick her up. My sister's dogs are over and the younger one, a puppy Ernie barely tolerates, kept trying to get closer.  Ernie got more and more agitated, moving in circles on three legs while one back leg appeared to be having some sort of muscle spasm.  Ten minutes of this, and all of the sudden she seemed fine again.  She went into the living room and hopped onto the sofa like it was nothing.

So now, Walker and I have to decided what to do.  Every instinct tells me I need to take her to the vet but I know, at 22 years old, what they can do for her.  Pretty much nothing.  The vet already told me he has never had a female cat live to 23. The thing is, Ernie does not enjoy the vet, she does not enjoy the car, and she does not enjoy going outdoors.  She gets so agitated that the vet has told me I need to sedate her before I bring her in. She may not survive the sedation.  I had another cat that was sedated for a vet visit and she died in the car on the way home. So there it is.  The plan for right now is to keep a close eye on her.  Walker has the next couple days off, so that's his job when I'm at work.  If she has another episode, I guess we'll have to risk the sedation to get her checked out.  I so do not want her to have one minute of unnecessary pain.