Steps in Silent Stillness is a blog about caregiving. It is a blog about Parkinson's disease. It is a blog about life transitions. It is a blog where I will share, vent, cry, rave and likely experience many different emotions. It is a blog about me and my dad and my family and my friends and my work. It is a blog about yet another life journey that I know others are on as well.
Well, here I am...in the middle of caregiving for my cat. In the middle of another life transition as my family prepares to lose her. And right now, I'm going to share, vent and cry, rave and definitely experience many different emotions. This post is about me and my husband and my children and our current life journey.
This is Luna. She is our CAT. We have two other felines. One who thinks she is a dog and one who thinks she is a human. Luna has always been proud to be a cat. She is quirky and silly and loving and aloof and everything a cat should be.
This is Luna. She is our CAT. We have two other felines. One who thinks she is a dog and one who thinks she is a human. Luna has always been proud to be a cat. She is quirky and silly and loving and aloof and everything a cat should be.
The bottom picture we have always called the "Luna Lay". It is often with both front legs out as well and sometimes with the tail straight up in the air.
She is our "middle child" cat. She was added to our family five years ago when she was a year old. The way she came to us is complicated, but suffice it to say, she was supposed to be ours from the beginning.
She loves boys over girls. She and I have always had sort of a distant relationship. But we shared an enormous love for all the boys in the house and in that way we were connected. However, in the past two weeks, she and I have bonded in a way only two females can do. I understand her. And she knows it.
The above pictures make me smile and they make me sad. This is not our Luna today. She is gaunt. She has no energy. Occasionally, we still get a Luna Lay out of her, but not as often. Most of the time she is sleeping or hiding out in a closet. Too much stimulation bothers her.
So, let me back up for a moment. At the beginning of July, I started to notice a change in Luna. She seemed sort of depressed. Her normal routine had changed with the start of summer. She's always been a creature of habit and I thought this was just an emotional reaction to the change. But then things returned to more normal at the end of July, but no change in Luna and she seemed to be having a harder time eating. Over the next couple of weeks, her weight loss became obvious and I made an appointment to take her into the vet on July 30th. Luna hates being outside the house. The car ride to the vet was terribly difficult on both Luna and me. The vet kept her overnight which was also hard for all of us and after several different tests including an ultrasound, they found what they thought was the cause of everything. Luna has a congenital defect that she has had since birth. And we were referred to a surgeon.
Olly and I had a moment of questioning whether we wanted to spend the money to do surgery, but it was a fleeting moment and we decided quickly that we were going to do what needed to be done for Luna. She's only 6. She could have a long life ahead of her if this defect could be fixed.
Luna and I met the absolutely wonderful surgeon on August 5th and he made it clear this is a rare defect in cats and that even if it could be fixed, there were many unknowns as to whether Luna could survive, but all the professionals believed it was in Luna's best interests to try as without the surgery she would certainly die. And surgery was scheduled for August 8th.
Jonathan (almost 15) and Christopher (11) came with me the morning we dropped Luna off for surgery. My stoic 15 year old began to cry and sobbed for an hour non-stop. My 11 year old had been off and on in tears over this for days and this morning was no exception. We busied ourselves during the day to keep our mind off the surgery. At 12:45pm the surgeon called and said Luna was running a 105 degree fever they couldn't get down and we needed to figure out what was up before doing surgery. And that night we brought Luna home with her 2nd round of antibiotics and a rescheduled surgery date of August 15th.
Luna was beginning to get frustrated with the meds. You could see her fear every time Olly approached her. It was heartbreaking for all of us but we believed it was all in Luna's best interests.
On the morning of the 15th, I took Luna in alone. She was so very tired of her cat carrier and would bury herself under the towel I laid inside for her. You couldn't even find her she buried herself so well. I asked them to take her temp before dropping her off. It was still a little high, but not as high as before and we all went about another day of waiting. At 3:30pm, the surgeon called and I could hear he was upset. He said Luna's fever spiked again and they ran some more tests to determine if she had some sort of infection. I would need to go get her again and pick up new antibiotics.
Luna hated the new antibiotics and threw up the first two doses. Back I went to the vet (on my own) to get something different. By this time, the neurologist, the internal medicine staff, the surgery staff, the front desk staff all knew me. They were incredibly compassionate to me and the situation we were all in. I came home with new antibiotics and Olly gave Luna the one pill on Friday and Saturday night, each time with Luna becoming more combative. On Sunday night she fought hard and hissed and tried to bite Olly which is completely out of character for her. And in that moment...I knew she was done. She was done with our games. She was done with pills being shoved down her throat. She was done with me taking her temperature twice a day. She looked at me and in her eyes I knew she was saying, "No more".
And so, on Monday, we all talked and discussed the situation. We made a decision that if the test results came back negative, that we would stop pushing things for Luna. We would stop torturing her. We would let her live the time she has left and we would simply love her.
Yesterday, I found out the tests were, indeed, negative. Today I spoke to the surgeon who truly felt for our situation. He believes that the congenital defect just happened to be found but that Luna's main problem is something even bigger that, so far, has been un-diagnosed. "Un-diagnosed". Wow...what a trigger that is for me. My mom was diagnosed with "cancer of un-diagnosed origin" 4 1/2 years ago. What's with "un-diagnosed" in my life? Anyway, the surgeon is going to consult with internal medicine just to get their thoughts on what the options for next steps are, but he and discussed that as of this point, we feel it's in Luna's best interests to be home and let her die in peace surrounded by the love of her family and not on an operating table.
And so here we are...living in this ridiculous world of anticipatory grief where I spent so much time 4 years ago when my mom was sick. Yes, I am relating this grief to that of losing my mom. Some of you may not understand it, but Luna is our family. We are preparing to lose a family member and it is painful and heartbreaking. My two boys are closer to this cat than they ever were to my mom. This is the first time they are experiencing this pain. And as a mother, it is devastating to watch knowing that I can't take away any of their pain.
But this pain is a lesson in love. It is a lesson that says anytime you love, you risk the pain of losing that love in some way or another. But the true lesson is that the potential pain does not mean we shouldn't love. Luna has been LOVED for the past five years. Unconditionally. And she has given us so much love in return. She knows she is loved. And she knows she is leaving us. And she knows we tried to help her. And she is grateful to us for respecting her enough to stop. In April of 2009, my mom told my dad, my brother and me, "no more chemo". And it was heartbreaking and I wanted to beg her to reconsider. But I saw what it did to her body and I saw what was in her eyes when she said "no more". That's what I saw in Luna's eyes on Sunday night. "No More".
My mom died too soon. Luna is much too young to die. And yet, sometimes, this is how life works. And what we have to know is that the love that was exchanged while the one we loved was here is what was most important.
Things are hard in my home right now. We are all walking on pins and needles. Many tears have been shed. We are taking it one day at a time. And the irony of how much grief counseling I do in my job is not lost on me. I understand grief. It doesn't mean I like going through it. I know that this is a valuable life lesson for my children. But I wish they didn't have to have it. I know the pain we all feel is for ourselves and what we will miss when Luna is gone. But all the rational talk doesn't ease the pain in my heart. What I do know is that we don't talk about grief enough. Grief over losing important people in our life. Grief over losing animals. Grief over losing a home or a job. There are many different kinds of grief and we rarely talk about any of it. Grief is painful and people would like to ignore pain. But it is part of life.
My family is in pain right now. We will get through it. But I won't keep silent about it. By sharing Luna and our impending loss of her, I honor her importance in our lives. And oh how important she has been. There are many tough days ahead, but we'll take one step at a time. And we'll love Luna, and love each other, along the way. Because although there is less loss without love, love is also what gets us through loss. Life is meaningless without love. Through our loss, our love will not diminish. Instead, it will grow, as our hearts expand to carry Luna in them for the rest of our lives.
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