I got subcutaneous fluids and a vitamin B shot Wednesday at my local vet. The fluids are meant to hydrate. The humans can’t really tell if it helped or not.
I’ve staked out a quiet spot in a new location, a coat closet upstairs where I hang out on top of a stack of plastic storage boxes. Winter coats offer a privacy curtain from Lar’s prying eyes, and the humans with their handfuls of meds.
Jen has taken to leaving a tray of food outside the closet. Sometimes the deaf Elmeria lumbers by and stops in her tracks to snarf up some of the goodies. I don’t really mind since food is not my top priority these days. Back in the day I would have hissed at the old girl.
Sometimes I eat on my own, like the other night when I lapped up both baby food (chicken and gravy) and kitten food. Other times I have to be spoon fed.
Last night the tumor framing half my jaw started to bleed a little. This morning it was a worse scene as I bled profusely when being fed. Other cancers hide under cover but squamous cell carcinoma is an especially vulgar, in-your-face, opponent.
We know studies are underway at universities and hospitals. I may have to go before they bear fruit. Sometimes the humans fear the time is imminent, like when I lay in the closet seemingly too weak to do anything else. But then the urge strikes and I race down the stairs for a drink of water or to use the bathroom, surprising all in my midst. So I’m here for now, still dragging myself back up like a boxer in the 12th round.
