“I’m beginning to think that the definition of a healthy cat is one that has never been to the vet.”
– My mother.
My poor cat.
Until recently, Eli went to the vet for his shots and a check-up once a year. He also went to get his nails trimmed every three months.
Since January 15, he’s been to the vet three times. A fourth visit – this time for surgery – has been scheduled for sometime this week. Needless to say, he’s not very happy about this turn of events. And it should go without saying that neither am I.
By now those of you who have been following this saga know that I initially took Eli, who just turned 10, to the vet for his regular appointment and nail trim. I also mentioned the small lump I’d found on his back, and agreed that the vet should take a sample of it as a precaution. Three days later I learned that the little lump that hadn’t changed color or size since I discovered it was, in fact, a tumor.
The vet then recommended an ultrasound to make sure that the cancer hadn’t affected Eli’s liver or spleen. Again, I agreed. I also agreed to let the vet get a blood sample while she was at it. Later that day, I was relieved to learn that the ultrasound didn’t show anything horrible; it seemed that after all the drama, a simple operation to remove the mass was all that was necessary.
But, no. It couldn’t be that easy for poor old Eli. The vet did an about-face, saying the surgery we’d initially scheduled had to be postponed until the results of his blood analysis came back. And when they did, it turned out that some of the indicators for kidney function were within the higher end of the acceptable range.
So instead of bringing him in for surgery last Friday, I had to bring him in for more blood work and a urinalysis, instead. The only reason I agreed to those procedures is because the doctor said the results could determine whether they have to take any precautions with the anesthesia when he does have surgery.
I told her that I was kind of concerned that all of this traveling back and forth was taking a toll on Eli. Not to mention what it was doing to my nerves. We’ve both had enough — or to be brutally honest — more than enough.
He’ll have his surgery, and that will be that. Even if the blood work and urinalysis do show some other issues, I am not subjecting him to any more invasive procedures, and I will limit future vet visits as much as I can.
I take pride in being a responsible pet owner; I love Eli more than life and I want him to be healthy. More importantly, I want him to be happy.
He and I have had a great eight years together, and I pray we will have many more. Having said that, I know I can’t control the future, and I have no idea what it holds. But I can promise this: as long as Eli is alive, I will do everything in my power to make sure he has the best quality of life possible.
In the end, can anyone ask for more?
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