Och, my poor little NoseyCat. He is not doing well. He saw the vet last week, and he seemed to perk up a bit...until yesterday. He's having a punky couple of days now. He snubbed his baby food yesterday and didn't eat as much dry food as he normally would. Worst of all, yesterday is his weigh in day and he lost more weight! On Sunday, October 1, he weighed 14.5 lb. (He should weigh about 16 lb.) Yesterday, Sunday, October 29, he weighed 12.82 lb.! As I mentioned in that linked post, he'd eaten well and seemed perkier after the vet visit, I was hoping he'd gain back some weight.
As I also mentioned, we decided to go with Dr. Straus re-evaluating him. I called today to get an appointment; the earliest I could get was a week from today. That's not soon enough, but I'm on the cancellation list, so maybe we'll get there sooner.
I've tried to remain hopeful that maybe, just maybe, it could be something other than cancer, but I think I'm losing that battle. He came up to snooze between our pillows last night and I was looking at him, petting him, thinking what a good cat he's been, how personable and good-natured he's always been, etc...basically, thinking about him almost in the past tense. I've been worried about him, also very sad, but I didn't want to give in to that sadness for some reason. I gave in last night, crying my eyes out at the thought of losing my little NoseyCat. He's almost omnipresent, always hanging around with us, following us around. Our only friendly cat. Doesn't hold a grudge or avoid us bco the Pepcid and the prednisone and the ABs and the laxatone we stuff down his gullet on a regular basis. He has so much to recommend him.
And he's so young, too, at only 7.5 yo. I'm starting to get very angry at this freakin' IBD. I was so hopeful that Nosey would recover from it, like Clara did. The cells seen during Nosey's endoscopy did not appear to be the pre-cancerous type, although, of course, there's no guarantee that he wouldn't get cancer. IBD is becoming more and more prevalent among cats, I think of it almost as a force of its own.
The worst feeling is helplessness. One day, when Archie was still alive, sick but still with us, he followed me downstairs to the basement where I was doing laundry. I just looked at him, so thin, and said how sorry I was that I couldn't do anything to help him and started bawling my head off. That's how I felt about Nosey last night, helpless. Gah! I hate that feeling. I want to get my diagnosis, find out how to fix things, fix things and move on, thank you very much. Nosey's truly a delightful cat; I feel so helpless at not being able to keep him healthy past 7.5 yo. So very, very frustrating.
Well, I feel a little better getting some stuff off my chest, but of course I can't get out from under the realization that Nosey may very well die within the next couple of months.
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