reesesWeb

I went to visit Pix after the first couple rounds of tests. They don't really know anything, but they suspect certain things are not present. They suspect she does not have FIV, because of inconsistent symptoms. They suspect she does not have lymphoma, because the mumble spike is not present, and lymphites or some such are not in evidence.

They've taken spinal fluid from both ends, they've taken biopsies of her bone marrow, they've done multiple MRIs, and all they know is that a mass that they think is some kind of tumor is putting pressure on her spine. Her back legs don't work, and they've just put her on steroids (they waited to do this before now because it would skew the other tests) to see if it will alleviate the pressure on the spine and return mobility to her hind legs.

She has shaved patches all over her body, and she's so frustrated and confused about why she can't get around. She's tense and miserable, and she doesn't know why she can't go home with us.

One bright thing, that delighted me more than it should. When we gave up on getting her to go pee, I picked her up to cradle her, which I used to do around the apartment. I'd lift her up so she could bat at the little chain-pulls on the ceiling light/fan. She'd go nuts and wail on them, and any time I pick her up since, she looks for a ceiling light.

Except this time. She looked for the fan all right, then she started purring like mad, and I felt a wet stream running down my shirt and pants.

My kitty loves me so much that she feels safer with me than anywhere else, so safe that she can let a whizz go.

And tomorrow, I will probably have to have her killed. I have no capacity to deal with this.

So I was wrong about the "halfway point" bit. It turns out that it's a lot closer to the end-point for Pix.

Based on what the neurologist and oncologist say, I'll probably fly back to DC to put Pixel to sleep on Wednesday.

This is the worst day ever. I started out this morning thinking she probably had a torn muscle or possibly some infection that could be treated by an uncomfortable but surpassable series of antibiotics, and would probably be at home when I got home Thursday night, ready for love. Now, I just hope she can hold out long enough for me to fly home early tomorrow so I can say good-bye.

I won't say anything like "she's my favorite", because I have two other cats I love with all my heart, but she's definitely the one I'm most protective of, and I can't do anything to protect her from this.

The thing that makes it so difficult is that she does not appear to be in any particular pain at this point. She's lucid and affectionate, and purrs like mad when she sees one of us. Apart from the partial paralysis of her back legs, her mood is typical. She's not confused or agitated.

Because she seems so clearheaded and so much like herself, it feels like murder to have her put to sleep. I'm projecting onto her, of course, and I'm aware of that, but it seems cruel to kill her while she's unaware of what is around the corner for her, just so she doesn't have to suffer. I argue with myself that maybe she has a few more pain-free days, and who am I to steal those from her? It's possible that it's lymphoma, and a small percentage of cats go into a complete remission after chemotherapy, and who am I to be too cowardly to take that chance?

I hate that people execute animals for what feel to be specious reasons. I hate that people shoot horses with broken legs, and I hate the idea that I might be arbitrary in meting out death for Pixel. I don't feel as if I even know everything I could do, let alone, actually have done everything possible to fix her.

I want to believe in mutable disasters. Anything that can happen can be undone, and the barrier for a pet between mutable and immutable seems so low. Part of what pisses me off is that something that should be fixable comes on so suddenly and with such finality, and there's no one I can argue with, threaten, or bribe to make it go away, and rewind things back to the status quo.

Damn it.

It's so bad now that we're hoping it's a tumor.

They see something that looks like a tumor around the spine, in an inoperable location. They'll be doing the tap tomorrow morning and retesting the globulin levels, which will tell them if it's a tumor or a virus.

To keep me from holding out any hope that it's a virus (hey, viruses go away, right?), they said that it was probably FIP, so we could hope for a couple weeks at best.

I've never had to make the decision to have a pet put down before. I avoided having pets in adulthood because I can't stand death, and here I am. I expected problems in the fourteen-year-old range, not seven-and-a-half.

If it's a tumor, our options are some sort of therapy, probably involving radiation and/or chemotherapy, which will involve driving to the oncologist five days a week to keep our kitty alive, but very, very sick. All of this just to keep her alive for half a year, possibly a year. Everyone stresses the expense, but honestly, I would give anything just to have her the way she was last weekend, except without this thing lurking just over the horizon.

This sucks hairy goat ass.

Whilst I use it like a monkey uses his hand to fling poo, every time I do, I hate the "x == y" construct more and more.

From a strict programming-language perspective, the discarded tautology is fairly useless. Unless you're using a logic language (which the c family languages are not), it's a completely useless comparison.

The mathematical identity definition, ≡, upon which the double-equals convention is based, may be a little more useful from a strict semantic perspective, but it just feels wrong.

So stop doing it.

If you're going to make a digital camera that looks like a film camera, should you make it look like a Holga? At least Leica picked a decent model upon which to base their offering.

I don't think I've ever met an arrogant Finn.

Sir, it is abundantly obvious you have never met a Finn. I can pick a Finn out within about five seconds, based on two factors:

1. Foreign accent
2. Rude & arrogant

Hell, "rude & arrogant" is their defining national characteristic.

<Spoo> this is a very bad place

<Spoo> your daddy is an evil man

<Liam> no its fun

<Spoo> and we are evil too

<Spoo> you should go now

<frab> does liam know you're here?

<Liam> no im talking to reeses hes funny

<Spoo> oh jesus

<-- Liam has quit (Killed by Spoo (this is for your own good))

I kept expecting a Daily Show-type punchline with this documentary. It was way too hokey, especially when they carted out the Jungians. But no, they're serious. I think.