The truth is, my heart isn’t going to do witty at the moment.
Dealing with the ‘betes has been crappy enough, but prior to my diagnosis, there was another, equally craptacular diagnosis, that I have been living with: my cat has cancer.
Okay, right off the bat I’m going to say I don’t care if you can’t empathize with me. If you’ve got nothing nice to say, move right along because I’m not interested in hearing why “it’s not the same” as if it were a human.
So my kitteh was diagnosed back in May, almost three months ago. It was heartbreaking at first, but we grew into an ease of dealing with the issues, preparing meds with food and the myriad of other things that come up when you have someone ill and need to care for them.
We got into a routine.
But kitteh stopped eating so much these past few days, and even though a special trip to the vet’s was made (I wanted pain killers, vet thought otherwise), kitteh just decided enough was enough. After a call to the vet’s today, the decision, made by a vet and a cat, was to put the beastie’s suffering to an end.
So I’ve been at work for the last couple of hours, trying like made to keep my shit together. I haven’t eaten since breakfast (which, on the bright side, was late). I can’t think straight. I just want to go home and pretend that all of the crap that’s happened in the last few months isn’t happening. That kitteh, dh and I are all happy, healthy, well adjusted and going to live forever.
It really doesn’t matter how old or young you are, saying goodbye to anyone you love, be it human, feline, canine, equine, whatever, seriously sucks and it hurts like mad. And there is no cream puff in the world that will make me feel better.