.
Each time I returned from my parents' home to prepare for work, I would open my door with hesitation and fear. Would one of my cats not greet me at the door? You see, Lumpy has cancer. I found a mass in July and took him to the vet. Two years ago he'd had a tumour removed, much to the bemusement of people. He was a stray I'd rescued and the cost was significant.
.
I knew in my heart that it was back and I was correct. I told the vet that it had suddenly come up; that it had grown like something out of a bad '50's B-movie. He was scheduled for surgery in less than a week and I took him in at the allotted time. He'd been deprived of food all night and was not amused, to say the least.
.
The vet called me back less than an hour later to tell me that she couldn't go ahead. She had never seen a tumour grow that quickly. Due to its placement around major arteries in his neck and his spine, it was risky. He was also an old boy----his precise age unknown as he was a rescue, but I'd had him for ten years. The vet told me to take him home, love him and he had a few weeks. This cancer has no pain and his death will be sudden, she assured me.
.
That was in July and it's now December. The mass is huge, yet he eats like an entrant at Nathan's Hot-Dog Eating Contest.
.
I heed the advice of the vet. Love him.
No comments:
Post a Comment