ruby and ollie play nice
A week ago Oliver had his surgery. He picked up a cold from being around all the other animals so the vet wanted him out of the hospital asap and he's been home since last Thursday. On Friday I noticed a staple had come loose and that part of his incision was spreading open (reminded me of a cut raw chicken breast). The vet said that it would be okay since it wasn't bleeding and that I could try and remove the staple (so it wouldn't catch on anything) but when I tried it was stubborn and rather than risk tearing or introducing germs I hauled him back to the vets office. I swear, they are so paitient. I have shown up without an appointment and called them so many times! They fixed the staple, gave him a quick dose of fluids and some high-calorie food for me to force feed him (he hadn't ate or drank since picking him up) and we went back home.
Thankfully, force feeding him wasn't as bad as it sounds and after only a few syringes of watered down food (looked so gross) he started eating on his own. He drank some water on his own the next day. Mostly he's been resting. I sacrificed a dresser drawer and made him a bed in it so that he wouldn't jump on the bed but he jumps up there anyway. It's always been his favorite spot in the house. He's on an antibiotic pill for his cold which as the days progress get more and more difficult to give.
Unfortunately, we found out yesterday afternoon that the mass they removed from his intestines is indeed cancer. Of course I was upset, I spent the hour after the vet called crying into my clay (literally) at the studio, but in my heart I already knew that was going to be the case. The vet is still trying to determine whether or not chemotherapy will work on his particular type of cancer (there was a lot of -omas thrown around when the vet was talking to me, I kind of lost track of what is actually going on, maybe a soft-tissue sarcoma?) and then of course we will have to make the decision as to whether or not that is something we want to do for him.
There is a part of me that is hoping that there is still a chance the Ollie will make a full recovery, that somehow he'll be the amazing miracle cat that beats the odds. But a more realistic part keeps that in check, making sure I don't get so hopeful that it's that much more devastating in the end. All I can do for now is make sure he's comfortable, spend time with him, and do what I can to make sure he knows that he is loved.
Unfortunately, we found out yesterday afternoon that the mass they removed from his intestines is indeed cancer. Of course I was upset, I spent the hour after the vet called crying into my clay (literally) at the studio, but in my heart I already knew that was going to be the case. The vet is still trying to determine whether or not chemotherapy will work on his particular type of cancer (there was a lot of -omas thrown around when the vet was talking to me, I kind of lost track of what is actually going on, maybe a soft-tissue sarcoma?) and then of course we will have to make the decision as to whether or not that is something we want to do for him.
There is a part of me that is hoping that there is still a chance the Ollie will make a full recovery, that somehow he'll be the amazing miracle cat that beats the odds. But a more realistic part keeps that in check, making sure I don't get so hopeful that it's that much more devastating in the end. All I can do for now is make sure he's comfortable, spend time with him, and do what I can to make sure he knows that he is loved.
