As I posted yesterday, she had not been doing so well, and I was going to see if we could see the vet on Monday.
Last night when I came home from work, I found that she'd thrown up a lot, and she was under the bed having a seizure. I took her to the emergency pet clinic. They took her temperature, which was low even by human standards, and her blood sugar, which was extremely low. The doctor gave her a dextrose injection, and she came around, but he said that she might have damage from the brain being starved of glucose for who knows how long. We discussed my options, and he gave me time to be with her and to decide what course of action to take.
Diabetes alone may have been manageable, as might the cancer, but the combination complicated things. When she was first diagnosed back in February, I had to make a decision, too. It was possible that further diagnostic testing and surgery could have helped with the cancer, but Spot was about 16 years old, which is a good long life for a cat, so I opted to use steroids to control the inflammation, and every day she lived was a gift.
The decision to euthanize Spot is probably one of the most agonizing I've ever had to make. I knew what the answer had to be. Spot was never a vomity cat, so I think the cancer may have finally overcome what the steroids could do and caused a blockage. I didn't want her to spend a few more days or weeks suffering if this would recur.
Still, I didn't want to give up, but I know my cat, and she purred like a diesel engine all the time. Whether she was happy or in distress, the motor was always running. After the dextrose shot made her come out of the seizure and respond to me, she wasn't purring. I waited, hoping, but nothing. A few weeks ago, I got a stethoscope to listen to my own heart, and I decided to listen to Spot's, but I couldn't hear it over the purr. While I was waiting and hoping, I put my ear to her, and heard for the first time that tiny heart beating. Just that, and not a hint of her purr. I think that's when I decided. It hurt so much. I didn't want Spot to go, but it would have been selfish to make her stay.
I will probably always wonder deep down if I made the right decision. I've been crying so much that my head hurts. I called into work because I'm a mess. I need some time to grieve. I knew this day would come, but I always figured it would be later. I wish I could communicate to Ares what has happened. He saw me take her away and not bring her back. I think he thinks she's outside somewhere, enjoying the sunny day. He'll miss her, but I know that she's gone.
It's hard to believe that we made this video less than two weeks ago:
I know some of you may want to say things to give solace, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for that. I really do. But before anyone posts the "Rainbow Bridge" or talks about chasing mice in Kitty Heaven, please understand my viewpoint. I can't believe in those things. I don't think I could explain it any better than George Hrab does in his introduction to "Small Comfort":
I do appreciate your sympathies, so please do comment if you want. If you want to buy something (flowers, cards, etc.) in memory of Spot, I'd rather you made a donation of like amount to Iowa State University College of Veterinary Medicine's Companion Animal Fund. Help the living in memoriam of the dead.