TUESDAY THOUGHTS ON TESSI

So much has changed yet so much remains the same.  I don't bawl to the point I can't get out of the car when I get home, but I do still shed tears everyday.  Tessi no longer hides at mealtime.  She comes running out, first in line; but, she's also lost a bit of weight.  Not much... but, a little. It could also be my imagination and her wiggling on the scale.   I've taken to only looking at the tumor now and then, and only because I want to make certain there's no sign of infection.  I no longer make her open her mouth several times a day. What's the point?  I can't change anything.  I am trying to live each day by "treat the cat not the tumor".  If she's eating, if she's happy, we're good.  The tumor continues to grow.  Apparently it is wasted wishes throwing pennies into the fountain in hopes that it would shrink.

She's drooling more than she had been.  Which is no HUGE difference around here.  For a cat with an underbite, she's always been a bit of a drooler.  It's noticeable though and we've begun the nightly process of washing her face and chest to keep her clean.

I start every day as if it's the last. Mornings are hard.  Evenings are better.  She's more active, happy, and outgoing.  It's definitely a rollercoaster ride.  I question myself every day if I'm doing right by her.  Just when I think I'm keeping her here for ME, I look into her eyes and see that soul that still has fight.  She comes running into the room to steal a wrapper.  She dives off the windowsill to run to the next window to chase a chipmunk.   If I didn't KNOW she had cancer I'm not sure I'd be questioning all these things.  She really doesn't act any differently than the other cats.  But, I KNOW... hence I second guess myself.  I promised her she would not know she was sick or live in pain.  She can't talk though, so I have to go with my gut and pray it doesn't stir me wrong.

Last night she slept all curled up next to me, purring the night away.  I'll take that as a win and another good day in the books.

Hugs and Purrs,

Arline & Tesserae

OH, OH!

Yup... that is all.... OH, OH!

I've posted about "my" stages in all of this.  Devastation, denial, hope, back to devastation...
I know I haven't handled all of this well. Most days I wander in circles and can't get out of my own way.  Since the day of Tessi's diagnosis though I have "tried" to prepare myself for her death.  As much as I hate the thought of it, I've tried my best to plan ahead and be prepared.

I have pain meds on hand for the chance things suddenly take a horrible turn.  I've already discussed her crossing over with my veterinarian's office, whether they offer home service, or if I'll have to seek someone else to come to the house if that ends up being the way I want to go.

I've spent time wondering how the other cats will handle her passing.  When we lost Tessi's mother, Evie, Teddy took it the hardest.  I can honestly say I've never had a pet so outwardly, obviously grieve, to the point I could see what was happening.

Quite frankly, that's how we ended up with Thea.  I wanted to mend his broken heart.  Seven years ago I brought Tessi home so he wouldn't be alone but she's never been a rough and tumble girl.  She's always been a princess.  Her mother on the other hand could put the smack down on Teddy and give him the run for his money that he needed.  Thankfully, Thea does the same.  She may be little but she's fierce.

But, I digress...

My point is, while I'm a hot mess, I still thought I had all my bases covered.  Until tonight...

Bob, my rock, my practical voice of reason, Mr. Black and White (no gray anywhere), Mr. Matter of Fact, said something I did not see coming...

"Arline, stop feeding her so much; she'll get fat!"

I just cried.  I've told him while nothing is written in stone what her life expectancy is.  I've read him all my research.  He's seen me cry myself to sleep.   I worried about ME.  I worried about the other cats.  OMG!  I never considered him.

When I told him she wouldn't live long enough to get fat... he thought I was horrible for thinking that way.  Oh, how I wish he were right, but I'm afraid he's not.

….and I thought he was the practical one in the house.  The one who would tell me "it's time" if I couldn't bring my own heart to see it.  Oh, Oh.

Tomorrow is not promised to anyone.  <3

Live every day as if it were your last.

Hugs and Purrs,

Arline

Our story began on Memorial Day weekend 2011.  The day I drove north to pick up an adorable big eyed kitten who stole my heart on the internet.  I believed our story would be a long one, but apparently that is not the hand we were dealt.

My sweet Tesserae has been diagnosed with oral fibrosarcoma.  It was found June 14th and (mostly) removed on the 21st.  I really wasn't worried.  She'd had "things" in her mouth before and the biopsies came back fine.  The phone call I received on June 26th, 2018 changed our story.

This is a blog about devastation, denial, hope and acceptance.  I'm sure there will be some who won't agree with the path we take, how we get there, or when it ends.  This page is here, mainly for me, to record my feelings, our photos, to share with those maybe going through the same thing.  Maybe someone will reply with words of wisdom, inspiration or past experience.  Maybe someday someone will find this page and know they aren't alone in their feelings of helplessness.

I have made one solemn promise to Tesserae.  I will not let her know she's sick.  In the end that may mean saying goodbye long before I'm ready. (as I'll probably never be ready)  I will not let her suffer.  I pray she will tell me when watching butterflies no longer brings her happiness.

Welcome to our page.  This is our story.

Arline & Tessi