So, sometime around Wednesday, the Fuzz stopped eating. Or drinking. Friday we took him to the vet and he was severely dehydrated, so they gave him a saline injection to rehydrate him, drew some blood for a blood panel, and sent him home to see if he improved. Saturday morning they got back the results of the blood panel and started him on antibiotics.
Saturday seemed to go OK – he didn’t eat, but he drank some water that Mike brought to him – but on Sunday he wouldn’t eat anything or drink anything, except for a little bit of canned tuna water that we tried to feed him. So I took him back down to the vet (Adobe Animal Hospital), who did X-rays, ultrasound, and collected some liver cells for a pathologist to look at, and recommended we check him into the ICU. So I did.
Today (sparing you the gory medical details) they’re still trying to figure out what’s wrong with him – there are several possibilities, all of them more or less bad. As I type this, they’re doing surgery on him to (a) insert a feeding tube and (b) biopsy several areas in his abdomen (liver, lymph nodes, intestines) to see if there’s anything wrong here. They’re going to call me tonight with the results, if there are any tonight.
I’m hoping for the best, but am deeply worried – the Fuzz is sixteen, which is pretty old for a cat, and the odds are pretty good that whatever he has will shorten both the quality and the duration of his life. The most probable diagnosis is lymphoma (cancer of the lymph nodes), which would give him six months to a year to live. I don’t know if I’d put him on chemo – is it really worth the decline in quality of life for a few more months? I’m hoping i don’t have to find out.
Anyway, he’s in good hands with Adobe Animal Hospital – they’re expensive, but they’re also one of the best veterinary practices in the area. (If you have to take your dog in for hip replacement surgery, Adobe is the sort of place you’d go – they have the equipment and experience for just about anything.) I’m trying my best to let it go – he is getting the best possible medical care, and there’s nothing more that I can do at this point (besides fund the vet bill, of course). And he’s sixteen, so he’s lived a long, full life. I just wish I could have him back home, begging for bits of dinner and chewing up my electrical cords the way he always does.
*sigh* Why can’t pets live forever?