Quality v Quantity

We said goodbye to our 24-year-old cat Stella on Thursday. It was obvious to us that it was time for her to leave us. All the sparkle had left her eyes and she showed little interest even in her favorite treats. Her legs were shaky and it was clear she was unhappy.

She was diagnosed maybe a year ago with chronic renal failure, something many old cats succumb to. I had gone through this with several other cats and knew the drill. Special foods and subcutaneous fluids every day. I still had really good needles from my last go round, so I ordered fluids and got out the old IV stand. We were good to go.

The fluids tend to make a cat feel better and I never had trouble administering them. But Stella hated it. As soon as we began she started working to wriggle the needle out from between her bony shoulders. After going through this for maybe about a week, I looked at her and said, Enough.

I adopted Stella when she was 20, so I knew my time with her would not be measured in decades, or even that many years. And I knew the fluids would prolong her life, but at what cost?

This was a happy little girl who loved her treats and her low-watt heating pad. She loved hanging out with us to watch TV. And she loved coming downstairs to eat forbidden non-prescription food.

A few weeks before she left us she became urine incontinent so we had to sequester her in a room upstairs secured with a baby gate. She managed to wriggle through the bars so Jerry had to fortify it. We would spend a lot of time in there with her. She would happily cuddle on our laps purring and peeing. I learned to sit with a towel on my lap. Argyle, our 20-pound toddler cat could easily jump the gate, so he would come in to visit and use her litter box. At least someone was using it...

Our cat and dog companions may not be able to speak, but I think they communicate their needs pretty clearly. Feed me. Pick me up. Take me for a walk. Let me go.

I think about the gift I gave Stella and all the other fur companions who came before her. But then, of course, I wonder, why are we not as kind to ourselves and our human companions?

I wish I had an answer for that. Although I am trying to take steps in that direction. I am on a medication that leaves me weak and fatigued, so in consultation with my oncologist we lowered it to half the recommended dose. The drug is so new that in time the recommended dose may actually get lowered, so I might just be an early adopter.

Did it make me nervous to cut the dose? Of course! If it is not as effective will I increase it? Probably. The side effects are not so debilitating that I have no life, and I hope while I am on this lower dose I can get stronger and more fit.

Ovarian cancer is one of those diseases that tends to come back. Who knows, maybe I will be an outlier and stay in remission and die of something else. Like old age. But chances are, it will come back, and with my oncologist, we will explore treatment options and the likelihood of them working for me. I hope at that point I remember Stella. And Fernando, and Sully. I put Sully through too much before I knew I had to let him go. It was unfair.

Saying goodbye to Stella gave me a lot to think about. And it has definitely taught me something about my own life. But only time will tell if I heed this lesson.