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.

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