Good and bad news
Mar. 2nd, 2008 12:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blamebrampton Firstly, you folk are amazing. Thank you all very much for all the human support and cat love; I even managed to sleep for five-and-a-bit hours!
Two vet conversations today. The first one was to check she'd lived through the night. The night vet was a nice chick who confided that she'd nearly rung me to tell me it looked hopeless around 1am but had slapped Min back in the oxygen box and thought to wait ten minutes first. After ten minutes, Min was so much better that she settled down and had a good old sleep. The vet was astonished, and very glad she'd not 'woken me' (I didn't confess I stayed up till 6.30 so I could be sure of talking to her before she went, because I'm only comfortable looking that odd in front of J and you).
Then she popped Min back in her box and Min proceeded to eat up all her food and sit down and have a good groom. Said the vet: I have never seen another cat do that, ever.
Me: Oh Min loves food. When she stops eating, she won't be dying, she'll be dead.
Vet: Great cat, I can see why you guys like her so much! Anyway, I'm much more optimistic about her than I was at 1am. The medical specialist is in at 9am and he'll give you a call when he knows what's up.
The medical specialist just called. He said that she had had a bad attack of fighting for breath shortly after he'd come on duty, so he'd investigated her first and found numerous growths in her windpipe (I KNEW her lungs weren't full of fluid!). He'd scraped several back and collected tissue samples for path. She was actually responding quite well to the increased airway and the oxygen tube, though he was keeping her under some sedation. He said that he thought the most likely story was lymphoma of the windpipe.
"Ooh," I said, deflated.
"No, you see it sounds bad, but that's actually good!" he said. "We have a saying that if you have to have cancer, be sure to get lymphoma, because it responds better to treatment than anything else!"
"Oh," I said, more hopefully.
"So you may well end up with a cat on chemo, but that's not too expensive and it's eminently survivable. We have a Siamese in here at the moment who had it four years ago, and he's fine, except for his broken leg."
"Was that the cat that was yowling all last night?"
"Er, probably."
"So she'll have a voice, still?"
"Oh yes, though she seems very quiet."
"She is, until she wishes to announce to other cats they are about to die, then she's loud."
"She sounds like a real character."
"Easily the most interesting cat I have ever owned!"
At this point I realised I was doing what I do when I get run over and impressing upon the medical people that they want to go to extreme efforts to save this cat/person of great charm. So I stopped. The vet told me that the path would be back on Tuesday and that we would have a plan of action by then. I forgot to ask if we could visit.
Thank you all again for the good wishes and positive vibes, I am sure that knowing her importance in the universe is no small part of Min's resilience in the face of great adversity!
Now, off to research cat chemo!
Two vet conversations today. The first one was to check she'd lived through the night. The night vet was a nice chick who confided that she'd nearly rung me to tell me it looked hopeless around 1am but had slapped Min back in the oxygen box and thought to wait ten minutes first. After ten minutes, Min was so much better that she settled down and had a good old sleep. The vet was astonished, and very glad she'd not 'woken me' (I didn't confess I stayed up till 6.30 so I could be sure of talking to her before she went, because I'm only comfortable looking that odd in front of J and you).
Then she popped Min back in her box and Min proceeded to eat up all her food and sit down and have a good groom. Said the vet: I have never seen another cat do that, ever.
Me: Oh Min loves food. When she stops eating, she won't be dying, she'll be dead.
Vet: Great cat, I can see why you guys like her so much! Anyway, I'm much more optimistic about her than I was at 1am. The medical specialist is in at 9am and he'll give you a call when he knows what's up.
The medical specialist just called. He said that she had had a bad attack of fighting for breath shortly after he'd come on duty, so he'd investigated her first and found numerous growths in her windpipe (I KNEW her lungs weren't full of fluid!). He'd scraped several back and collected tissue samples for path. She was actually responding quite well to the increased airway and the oxygen tube, though he was keeping her under some sedation. He said that he thought the most likely story was lymphoma of the windpipe.
"Ooh," I said, deflated.
"No, you see it sounds bad, but that's actually good!" he said. "We have a saying that if you have to have cancer, be sure to get lymphoma, because it responds better to treatment than anything else!"
"Oh," I said, more hopefully.
"So you may well end up with a cat on chemo, but that's not too expensive and it's eminently survivable. We have a Siamese in here at the moment who had it four years ago, and he's fine, except for his broken leg."
"Was that the cat that was yowling all last night?"
"Er, probably."
"So she'll have a voice, still?"
"Oh yes, though she seems very quiet."
"She is, until she wishes to announce to other cats they are about to die, then she's loud."
"She sounds like a real character."
"Easily the most interesting cat I have ever owned!"
At this point I realised I was doing what I do when I get run over and impressing upon the medical people that they want to go to extreme efforts to save this cat/person of great charm. So I stopped. The vet told me that the path would be back on Tuesday and that we would have a plan of action by then. I forgot to ask if we could visit.
Thank you all again for the good wishes and positive vibes, I am sure that knowing her importance in the universe is no small part of Min's resilience in the face of great adversity!
Now, off to research cat chemo!
