Master of None

So, I am bedridden.

Under the bed, is Phoenix, feeling awful and sulking rage at that world.

Across the hall, in my library, Hissy is under the other bed, sulking in rage, for reasons she can't begin to understand, but she's totally certain are somehow my fault.

Everything is my fault.

Because I am the biggest bitch in the lair, I am also the Master of the Universe. Everything that happens is on me.

So, clearly, Cancer is totally my fault.

Phoenix seemed to improve after his first few chemo treatments. He was weak, dangerously underweight to the point where he as anemic, and we had to (and still have to) feed him by syringe. But he was home, and he was purring. He's taking a lot of meds to try to suppress his symptoms--the irony is I recogonised the symptoms and knew the meds he needed because I have the same problems. At least my illlness let me know how to help my baby. We take a lot of the same meds, just the dose is different. This is not something I ever wanted to have in common, with anyone, let alone someone I love.

But the past few days, he's been worse. He was gaining back strength, alertness, interest in things--and that's gone. The meds aren't suppressing his physical symptoms anymore. It could be the chemo, but it could be the chemo just isn't slowing down the disease.

This is far worse than any pain I've ever had. I've cried my way through boxes of kleenex. Though I try not to cry in front of him. He feels bad enough without that worry and guilt.

Hissy has stopped eating, drinking, or using the litterbox. She wants to avoid the Evil Thing That Smells Bad. If she bumps into it by accident, she hisses like a possessed and feral banshee. Which is why she's now choosing to not leave the library. I expected a problem, but not this bad. Any time one of them goes to the vet's, the other goes crazy for week. If they both go, they both go crazy. They can't help it. Cats have terrible eyesight. They recognise people by smell. Going to the hospital exposes them to other smells. So Pheen doesn't smell like Pheen, so...

As far as she is concerned, Pheen doesn't live here anymore.

I told myself to expect it, to not be angry at her for it. Even worse, not to, not to hate her when she....when she gloats about being the only kitty.

*long pause*

But I didn't expect the hunger strike. It's a stupid stress we so don't need, so I'm losing my patience with the Drama Queen.

Especially as Pheen gets worse...

My own medical condition is worsening. I suspect some of that is stress, but some of it is definitely the tennis ball, which, by my symptoms, appears to be still growing. My follow-up test is next week. I don't know if I'll get the results then, or later. I'm expecting surgery, and I'm expecting to wait months for it. Either way, the fates have great timing. And great cruelty.

The poor SU is fighting to hold it together. Somehow. I'm enough of a medical mess to keep a team of people busy, and now the SU has to look after two of us. Plus a full time job so we have a hope of keeping things like a roof and food.

We have one thing going for us. We have each other.

For now.