Talked to the Vet Today

Ozzy went to the vet on Friday. Because I couldn’t get myself there, B took a long lunch and took him. Once there and urine was taken from Ozzy for a couple labs, B called and put me on speaker phone so the vet could talk to both of us and let us know what she thinks and what our options are. She also kept our lack of money in mind as well.

Note: The vet has been very understanding and compassionate to Ozzy’s needs and comfort as well as to us humans. She is aware of the PSTD I have and our lack of funds and has been really sweet and helpful in regards to all of that.

This has been a financial and emotional burden on me (and probably B even though he doesn’t show a whole lot of emotion).  I hate to look at it and say it that way but veterinary care is not and never will be free. And that’s understandable. Of course. That’s how the world works. I’m not mad about that. And I also do think that broke folk should not have pets.  Unless there’s a back up of care. Also I understand that pets can come into our lives when they are young and need little care and when we’re not broke. So when the financial shit hits the fan, wtf do you do?

Ozzy was (sort of) found. It’s a whole other story that deserves its own post. We didn’t buy him, adopt him or take him from a friend.  We have no idea his age. I know enough to know he was a young adult at the time of acquiring him in 2005 but it’s ALL I know regarding his age.  He could have been as young as a year but he could’ve been as old as 5. My actual guess is that he was somewhere between the ages of a year and 3 years.  So he’s at least 14.

He is in, at best discomfort and at worst, in pain.

The vet gave us an anti-biotic pill to possibly rule out an infection if it didn’t work. And if it worked it would also rule out a tumor and/or stone.  She suspected a stone or a tumor more than an infection, because when she went to take a urine sample from him, not only did he pee all over the place, but a lot of blood came out with it.

The problem with anti-biotics and Ozzy is that he gets diarrhea almost immediately and sometimes constipation after starting them. It’s trading one problem for another and in either case the cat is miserable and understandably so.

In the past, we’ve stuck it out and continued to give him the anti-biotic but that was for his ear infections and the second time we didn’t finish the bottle because the GI issues got too bad.

So with this anti-biotic, we have only given him one dose since Friday. But the vet also gave us six pain pills so that we could address the pain of whatever it is causing it in Ozzy’s bladder. Those have been a relief for both him and me. It distresses me to hear him cry and with all that is on my plate presently it has been difficult to tolerate.

Today, talking to the vet on the phone, she recommended euthanasia…but ONLY because I asked her what she would do in my position…my exact position…no money, sick cat.

She also stated that she suspects a tumor more than a stone because of the amount of blood she observed on Friday.  She posed scenarios of coming to her with all the money in the world too and said that the conversation would be similar.

If it was affordable to us, she would recommend an X-ray to see what is actually in there, but would also say that there is a strong possibility that he would have to be euthanized. And then there’s the matter of surgery. That even if the money for surgery was there, whether stone(s) or tumor, because of his age, he is not a great candidate for surgery.  She also said that his major weight loss is also a sign of cancer too.

I know this is inevitable. For lots of reasons. I gave him a pain pill earlier today and he crawled under B’s bed and took a nap. When he reappeared, he wanted some treats so instead I gave him some dehydrated liver that I actually dehydrated for myself to make capsules with. But he absolutely LOVES the stuff. He almost choked on a piece one night though (literally) and I had to give him the Heimlich and B stuck his finger down Oz’s throat to get it out. But today, I broke it up into tinier pieces so he could have some again. I was mindful to make the pieces small enough so none of them would lodge in his throat.

If we just feed him pain pills so he can continue to live pain free, all his life will be is sleeping, eating and using the litter box.  I mean his quality of life has been pretty shitty since we moved here anyway.

We came from a house in a neighborhood where he could be outside almost as much as he wanted to be. By the time we moved he’d become almost wild.  He wanted to be out way more than he wanted to be in. And we moved in August so there was a lot of good weather left at that point for him to enjoy. And he missed it all.

That alone has made him miserable.  I hate that the end of his life has to end in this shit-hole. I will find a way to get him outside one last time at least.