Down and Up

I've not been up to much--not just updating the blog, but anything, even talking to people. My own medical condition is....dire, but no one is going to get any joy talking about failed treatments or how much pain I'm, or how long it takes me to get out even a single simple sentence. My muscles aren't working properly. Typing this post hurts, and it will probably take me hours...

But that's not what matters.

Pheen is under my bed. Days three to five after chemo are the worst. He's extra nauseous, and I can hear his poor belly gurgling angrily along with mine. He's also sad and withdrawn, and can't be comforted. I get that he feels like total crap, and snuggles won't make it go away. But I wish they would. For him.

Except for the painfully routine soul-crushing chemo smackdown, he's been doing pretty well. His new medication is still helping him eat. Not enough, but he can eat about half of his food on his own--and way better, he can enjoy it. The other half he's still getting by syringe. But we're winning.

He gets a full check up before every weekly chemo treatment. We were fighting so so hard to stop him from losing more weight....

This week, his weight was up 0.2 kilos.

To put that in perspective, that's like an average human putting on 15 lbs in a week. Oh yeah, WHILE they have terminal cancer and are on chemo.

His doctors thought we were all made of serious amazeballs when we were able to maintain his weight. Putting on weight, any weight, let alone a good amount of it, was yet another thing my boy shouldn't have been able to do.

Yes! Score some more for Team Stubborn!

But we have to give a big squishy hug to pharmaceuticals. I used to be a chemist; the SU's still one. Neither of us had any idea when we went into the field how very much it would really shape and shelter our lives. I would go into details, but only the hardcore geeks could ever care, and then there's the whole Confidentiality Agreements thing...

Oh, and the new med is also helping him sleep. That first time, finding him curled up. with his eyes closed, and deep sighing the blissful breaths of a REALLY good nap--I had to use my fists to stuff down a sob.

It was involuntary, I swear.



I hadn't seen him sleep in weeks. Months, actually. He was exhausted. He spent most of hie time lying, limp, his eyes ripping my heart out by drooping halfway, endlessly, with sheer misery and fatigue. But, our symptoms were cruelly matching up again. No matter what, he couldn't sleep.

Yes, Cancer is that vicious a motherfucker. It even breaks a cat's ability to sleep.

But with this new med, he can doze. It's not as deep or relaxed as his usual sleep, but it tears me up every time. My poor boy.

I wish I could fix everything for him, but still, we found a way to bring back noms and naps, at least a little.

I'm so grateful for the options available to our boy, and the wonderful staff that's helping treat him. I'm also anti-grateful to his insurance company, who, despite so many years of faithful regular payments by us, decided 'Oh shit! This Cancer crap is expensive!' and cut him. I'd say may they die in a fire, but, you know, it would be more appropriate to wish them, or someone they love dearly, cancer. And with the odds being 1 in four, it's so going to happen, bitches. So may you have someone in charge of treatment who is just as ethical and respectful and sympathetic as you have been. Enjoy!

As for me, I'm fighting my condition as hard as I can, trying to hold on and cherish every purr and every nuzzle, and, most especially, every night of family snuggle time (tm).

If you haven't hugged your family yet today, go, hurry! You're wasting your day. And make every hug count.

You never know how many you have...