Approximately three weeks ago? I took Fiona to the vet fearing her cancer had returned. My vet checked the strange lump on her ear but told me he didn’t “think” it was cancer. He thought it was an irritation from scratching way to much and gave me some ointment to soothe her. I went home with her elated that the squamous cell carcinoma hadn’t reared its ugly head (such nasty stuff). I put the ointment on her ear, not in her ear- she screamed and bolted for the cat enclosure and dug in deep into one of the cat carriers out there and never left. It was not like her. My warrior princess who challenged and won in a pitbull encounter loved our kitchen. We have large cat platforms and ramps going around the top of our kitchen and dining room and she would stay on those ramps and then come down to eat with all the others. She loved our pet fountain; custom-made by our friend Ebi in Florida and would play for hours with the water cascading out of the frog’s mouth. She would find me when the water was low and no longer cascading but spurting. Fiona would tug on my pant’s leg meowing that I immediately go in and fill it up, unclog the filter and give her HER pet fountain back. Funny calico girl. But those days of her goofiness were now gone.

She stayed dug in to the cat carrier for days and at first I attributed it to the stress of the vet visit. She had pooped and peed on the way to the vet and was carrying on in a fashion so not like her. She was eating (but not by much) and I would put fresh water near her daily and she would drink a bit. But she stayed put. Due to circumstances I will relay a bit later in this post, I put my concern for her on the back-burner and went about my day.

Yesterday, before heading to Washington with the girls, Fiona came out of the cat carrier for the first time, while I was in the enclosure feeding. I scooped her up and was horrified to discover, she weighs NOTHING! (She is 10 years old now she should weigh ten pounds or better). I could feel her spine and alarmed, I started stroking her to discover her entire belly had caved in on itself. There is one spot on her right side that carries immense heat. Her beautiful green eyes were still brilliant and wide, but it was clear to me that yes, the squamous cell had returned- but not to her ears. We just didn’t dig deep enough. She ate from my hand and went in and curled up inside the cat carrier. I couldn’t do anything for her that day because of the travel plans. Mike couldn’t take her to the vet and I didn’t want him to do that type of exit visit anyway they crush him. I whispered to her that she had to hang on just one more day and it would all be over soon. I called and made an appointment for this morning at 9:20. I am not a vet, but I have had dealings with this type of cancer before. It is aggressive, it spreads intensely and the treatment doesn’t work. My warrior princess will be going to the Bridge this morning and I am devastated.

I know that I get on this blog and put myself out there time and again. I try to give a true representation of what these cats face, what humans face to care to work with them, how to work with them, how to take ourselves out of the equation and give them what they need on their timeline, not ours. I do it to inspire others so hopefully they might not ignore that sickly kitten or cat hiding in the bushes. I don’t give out all my tricks because I am still trying to write my book through all that work on. But I give away a lot of what I have learned over the years. Rescue work is never easy and yesterday on the long trip, my friend Haley and I had long conversations about life in general and cats in particular. It was good medicine, that trip.
But I still sit here in tears feeling that I let Fiona down and her great departure from her normal routine, I just attributed it to the stress of a vet visit and left her in that cat carrier after seeing she was eating and drinking and using the litterpan (which thankfully means her suffering hasn’t begun quite yet)

Underneath all we have been facing recently with these cats, and I have put out on my blog here, I have kept one thing to myself. I believe, I just had to work through the devastation I felt when I first heard the news delivered by the specialist who was assigned to look at Mike’s legs. I think deep down, I knew what that visit was going to reveal but it was still so hard to accept and it stopped us in our tracks, driving Mike to do a lot of sleeping (more than he normally does) and to suddenly (even though it was 90 degrees or better outside) to wrap up in his heated throw and seek the refuge that sleep offers our bodies. Since the news, I have been exposed to the narrow-mindedness of people living in a small town who never really had a life. This is still brewing and may go legal in the future. I am still wrestling with all of that as well.

Mike has been referred to Oregon Heath Sciences up in Portland. He was told by this vascular surgeon that the surgeon couldn’t help us and NO ONE locally could either. The look on this surgeon’s face when he finally walked into the room where I had unwrapped and revealed Mike’s beat up legs was “horrified.” The surgeon, leaned against the wall (I guess the shock was to much for him) and told us that just by looking at Mike’s legs (He seemed afraid to touch them and I can’t blame him there). He would see that not only were the veins involved/infected/affected but also the arteries and the lymphatic system. He told us that the team of vascular surgeons will do an angiogram but it will just be a formality. Mike is now facing not losing one leg but both- above the knee.

Like I said earlier, I knew this was coming. I deal with his legs on a daily basis and when he would come back from wound care (three times a week) I would ask him what they said. He would tell me they told him he was better, the ulcer was “smaller” things were great! I would remember seeing the gaping ulcer on the side of his foot that morning and wonder if Mike was still living in denial. But when he came home three separate times and THEY DIDN’T EVEN BOTHER TO CLEAN OR WRAP HIS LEGS! I knew he wasn’t kidding. I am so FURIOUS with this “group.” He’s been under their questionable care now over TWO YEARS and no one (except me) has ever thought something was really wrong. How bad is it these days? I will just say this- when I used to come into the house after being outside for awhile, I could catch a whiff of litterpan odor. Not over-powering but it was there. Now, all I smell are Mike’s decaying legs and it is noxious.

Recently, he had an appointment with his doctor. Normally, he would take a shower, I would cleanse and bandage his legs and send him off. This time, I put my foot down and told him he was going to take a sponge bath and I was not touching his legs and bandages. Also, when we got to the doctor’s office, I didn’t unwrap his legs- the doctor did and he almost passed out in the process. Two days later, we were at the “specialist.”

So my strong, loving, funny husband will soon be facing a challenge that I hope won’t crumble him. We are waiting on that referral and this morning after Fiona’s visit, I will be stopping at the doctor’s office and lighting a fire underneath their butts to get this done quickly. I wish I had performed my tough love so much earlier, but I trusted they knew what they were doing and doubted my common sense and compassion that told me otherwise.

On the legal side that I mentioned earlier. I said some things in confidence to the head nurse. We were behind closed doors no one else was in the room at the time and I expressed my anger and my desire to kick some wound care clinicians in the ass and take names. This nurse apparently reported my conversation to the group, because when we got home after that conversation, there was a message on our machine. The receptionist had called to change Mike’s appointment (today) time. By the way, he isn’t going. At the END of the recording, I guess the receptionist thought she hung up the phone, because I can hear her whisper “Thank God it was the answering machine and not that bitch wife!” To say that I am livid is an understatement and I have my own plans forming now to see that this type of negligence and apathy doesn’t ever hit another patient again.

So I missed Fiona’s rapid slide into her cancer and it has been eating her up. This will be her last day with us and she will be missed so very much. My pitbull warrior princess could successfully defend herself against the attack that a pissed off husband instigated when he found out his wife had adopted her while he was on a business trip. I saved her from that horrible man retaliating against her and rushed to get her out of harm’s way. But now, she weighs two pounds and the only way I can save her now is to let her go, forever staying in my heart-