written last night, Thursday June 30, 2011
Last Thursday I had appointments with the nurse practitioner I see for my feminine health needs (she follows me for the 3 fibroid tumors still in my inactive post-menopausal womb) as well as with my breast surgeon. The response to my examinations? NED. No evidence of disease. Ah...that's what we want to hear. At the cancer survivors celebration/education session at our medical center a couple weeks ago, one of my colleagues spoke about the emotional impact of cancer on adult patients, from diagnosis to survivorship. She revealed her status as a survivor, not just a social worker in the field, and reported that NED is her new best friend. I get it. I love NED.
It's been a good busy time lately, so busy I rarely get to write about all of the events that touch me, the daily experiences that I want to share with the occasional reader who stops here, but it's good to have the activity. I have to remind myself that I still am less than a year from chemo, still in the recuperation phase from numerous surgeries with general anesthesia and still significantly weaker than I was before diagnosis, not to mention being over 50. Still, it's frustrating to miss those thoughts that sounded so interesting when I spoke them to myself with my inner voice.
I don't want to allow this day to go by without comment though to memorialize my old cat, Mojo, who reached the end of his time today. He was the cat with the most personality of any I've ever known, and a great mouser, and Xena's best pal. He had insinuated himself into the home of some dear friends who lived at the end of a rural road with 4 cats and a cat door; many cats were dumped in the area and quite a few of them got the word on the kitty hotline that there was plenty to eat and an open door and from time to time one would move in, Mojo among them. I talked my friends into letting me have him. Mojo weighed over 20 pounds in his heyday, and was so big that visitors coming to the door would often step back in alarm when they saw this friendly giant. He would chase and fetch a crumpled grocery receipt with glee, and would reach out from his perch on the back of the sofa to grab me with a declawed paw as I walked by just to create some contact and remind me that he was there. When we got Xena a few years ago, Mojo had already been here for several years, and at first the cat would not speak to me, so irritated was he that I had brought this big canine into his domain. But about a month later, one afternoon Mojo reached out from his nap on the floor and slapped Xena across the face as she walked by, then took off down the hall with the dog in chase. They have been best friends ever since and I worry about how Xena will handle being the only 4 legged critter in the house.
I sent this message to my friends and family that were particularly fond of Mojo: He's been in failing health for several months now; he was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism in February and for a while responded well to medication to treat that condition.
I took him to the vet today as for the past couple of days he has been looking very disoriented, having trouble breathing and only eating occasionally. The vet took an X-ray of his trunk and it was plain that he was in heart failure with too much fluid in his chest to have any hope of a remedy to his situation. We agreed that the kindest thing to do would be to put him to sleep.
I stayed with him, and then went home with great sadness. I know we all will miss him. He was a truly great kitty.
Last Thursday I had appointments with the nurse practitioner I see for my feminine health needs (she follows me for the 3 fibroid tumors still in my inactive post-menopausal womb) as well as with my breast surgeon. The response to my examinations? NED. No evidence of disease. Ah...that's what we want to hear. At the cancer survivors celebration/education session at our medical center a couple weeks ago, one of my colleagues spoke about the emotional impact of cancer on adult patients, from diagnosis to survivorship. She revealed her status as a survivor, not just a social worker in the field, and reported that NED is her new best friend. I get it. I love NED.
It's been a good busy time lately, so busy I rarely get to write about all of the events that touch me, the daily experiences that I want to share with the occasional reader who stops here, but it's good to have the activity. I have to remind myself that I still am less than a year from chemo, still in the recuperation phase from numerous surgeries with general anesthesia and still significantly weaker than I was before diagnosis, not to mention being over 50. Still, it's frustrating to miss those thoughts that sounded so interesting when I spoke them to myself with my inner voice.
I don't want to allow this day to go by without comment though to memorialize my old cat, Mojo, who reached the end of his time today. He was the cat with the most personality of any I've ever known, and a great mouser, and Xena's best pal. He had insinuated himself into the home of some dear friends who lived at the end of a rural road with 4 cats and a cat door; many cats were dumped in the area and quite a few of them got the word on the kitty hotline that there was plenty to eat and an open door and from time to time one would move in, Mojo among them. I talked my friends into letting me have him. Mojo weighed over 20 pounds in his heyday, and was so big that visitors coming to the door would often step back in alarm when they saw this friendly giant. He would chase and fetch a crumpled grocery receipt with glee, and would reach out from his perch on the back of the sofa to grab me with a declawed paw as I walked by just to create some contact and remind me that he was there. When we got Xena a few years ago, Mojo had already been here for several years, and at first the cat would not speak to me, so irritated was he that I had brought this big canine into his domain. But about a month later, one afternoon Mojo reached out from his nap on the floor and slapped Xena across the face as she walked by, then took off down the hall with the dog in chase. They have been best friends ever since and I worry about how Xena will handle being the only 4 legged critter in the house.
I sent this message to my friends and family that were particularly fond of Mojo: He's been in failing health for several months now; he was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism in February and for a while responded well to medication to treat that condition.
I took him to the vet today as for the past couple of days he has been looking very disoriented, having trouble breathing and only eating occasionally. The vet took an X-ray of his trunk and it was plain that he was in heart failure with too much fluid in his chest to have any hope of a remedy to his situation. We agreed that the kindest thing to do would be to put him to sleep.
I stayed with him, and then went home with great sadness. I know we all will miss him. He was a truly great kitty.
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