Before I say anything, really, this is me talking about it. If I want to talk more, I'll bring it up with you myself. But right now, I can't talk to anyone. I just can't. So bear with me.
My precious, precious kitty is dying, and is living on borrowed time. I don't know how much longer she'll be with me, but suffice it to say I don't know anymore if she'll still be breathing when I wake up in the mornings, or what I'll do without her when she's gone. I love her dearly, and she's one of the few that always seems genuinely happy to see me when I come home, and comforts me when I'm sick or sad.
I'm not sure if I'd mentioned on here before, or just talked to a few people about it, but she's been sick for close to a year now. She went to the kitty ER a few months ago because we were trying to find out what was wrong. She's had a nasty infection in her lungs that we've not been able to get rid of - just keeping it from getting worse and keeping her comfortable has been difficult enough. She's been given meds daily - sometimes twice daily - for months now as well.
She wheezes when she breathes, and it's obvious just how much effort it is for her, as her sides are heaving with the action. She'd lost her appetite a while back, but after several months of meds, she began to play again (I've not been able to get her to really play with her feathers for almost a year now, she's been too tired) and breathe easier and eat more and just seem healthier. She still would wheeze, but it was more residual, as her lungs were already so damaged from the infection they wouldn't heal. Fine, that's understandable. She
would stop wheezing if we were scratching her so she'd purr.
Yesterday we noticed something wrong with her eye, and mom took her to the vet immediately. He had the feeling it was a tumor in her eye, and what we saw were the burst blood vessels and blood clots. Today she went to the kitty opthomologist, and he confirmed it. She's also not eaten for the last week, has become very lethargic, and just looks miserable, yet all she wants is loving. To be petted, loved, adored. The little things in life that make it so grand.
We have two options from here. One is that we remove her eye. The kitty eye doctor said he didn't think it was the spreading kind or cancer, so that should take care of it. If we leave it as it is, it'll keep putting pressure on her eye and on her brain, probably causing her lots of pain she won't let on to. However, he and the vet are both very worried that she's not strong enough to undergo the anesthesia for such a surgery, and that she wouldn't pull through being put under. She's weak, her lungs are weaker, and she's lost a half a pound in the last month or so. She's less than a six pound kitty - so that's a lot. She's so terribly bony right now.
The second option is just wait until her quality of life is such that we have to put her down. Which, after seeing her tonight, could be any day now. She didn't even fight when we tried to give her her medicine. She can't even keep it down now. I can't get her to purr, and her breathing is even more labored than I'm used to seeing. Any strength she has had is gone now, after two stressful vet visits in two days. My precious, precious Jasmine is a fighter, but she's not immortal. No one can fight forever, not even my sweet kitty.
I've never seen her so pitifully weak and unfighting. I can't even imagine the pain she's coping with right now. Even if she was strong enough to have the surgery, mom and I aren't sure if she'll make it long enough to be able to have it done. It's like someone just punched me in the gut. She was doing fine... and now she's pretty much on Death's doorstep. It's killing me. She's made it clear to everyone that I'm her person, and she's my kitty, regardless of who feeds her and pays the bills. She's even taken to sleeping with me at night under the covers now that the dog no longer sleeps on my bed. She's not even done that for the last few days.
The vet basically told us, without telling us, that there's very little we can do for her now besides keeping her as comfortable as possible. Nothing. IF she makes it through the surgery, she is still dying, slowly. How is it that the kitty that acted like a kitten for so very long is the one that has been dealt this hand of cards? Why not the grossly overweight Khan, who doesn't play, doesn't move more than necessary, just lies in his food bowl? Not that I wish him any harm, it's not that... but why? Why isn't it the walking heart-attack-waiting-to-happen kitty instead of the one that was fit, was healthy, was a fighter, was a grown cat that didn't know she wasn't still a kitten? Why?
I know it's an overused expression, but it's not fair. While I'd say it's not fair for me, that's not the case. It's not fair for Jasmine. Why must it be a perfectly healthy cat that suddenly has her life cut shorter than anyone expected, why must it be her that has to suffer through this? Why must it be the one that's always been so happy to see me because of who I was, and not for what I could offer or provide? Why must it be my friend, my confidant? The one that would mope for days after I returned to school after being home for a weekend, who would and still does sit outside my door, waiting for me? Why?
I'd keep rambling on, though I doubt I've made many coherent sentences, but I can no longer read my screen through the tears. I'm sobbing too hard to see what I've typed, so I apologize for any typos.
I think I'm going to be sick.
