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Tuesday, May 28, 2002
An emotional rollercoaster of a memorial day weekend.
Spent Friday night relaxing at home... watching the sox with Amie, and spending some quality goodbye-time with our cat, Jan. We had tentatively decided to put her to sleep on Saturday... and as painful as that decision was, we knew it was the best thing for her. She had stopped eating, stopped making it to the litter box (I will spare you the details of that particular symptom), and was hardly moving from her spot in the bedroom. The cancer had won, and the chemo seemed to be hurting her more than it was helping. We'd done all we could, so we brought her into the living room for one last night of head-scratching, back-petting, and purring. For a few moments, when she briefly went for the food we had laid out for her, we were hoping she'd surprise us and bounce back... but the next morning we just knew. She was carrying too much for her little once 10 pound, now 6 pound body to take. So we let her go. The vet was very kind, explaining to us the process, treating Jan very gently, letting us be with her... and Jan was just so calm, it was like she was ready. The vet placed a small white rose between her folded front paws as she faded away from us. The look on her face after she was gone was the most content I'd seen in weeks... the weight of the cancer was gone, her eyes no longer reflected the fight inside of her. I keep thinking she's somewhere in our apartment... I keep seeing her jump up on my desk. I'm such a freakin' wuss, but damn, I miss that cat. More on the long weekend later.  |
 neil halstead live in cambridge, ma on november 14th, 2008 previously: joy formidable - boston 2011 recent posts on the 'nac...
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