Last Day of this pathetic year

I hate 2005. And I'm quite sure it hates me back. Not long after New Year's Day 2005, I discovered the first of Duncan's tumors. His front left leg was amputated February 21. We cancelled our Ireland trip to run the Connemarathon since we felt we couldn't leave Duncan alone quite so soon. Russ was in the hospital for 2 days with a still unknown malady. I spent most of the summer trying to get an unwelcome person out of my life and just as soon as that was over, Duncan's cancer returned. Yay! What an excellent year! Let's do it again.

As I stand on the brink of a brand new year with new possibilities, I shudder to think that things could actually be worse. We will most likely lose Duncan this year. Russ will run a 50k in two weeks and will hopefully survive. My job on Wilbur will come to a close, and hopefully I will get picked up on the next movie, but at any rate I will be facing yet another ending this year. Maybe this year is just going to be about endings. And thus beginnings.

Speaking of beginnings, check out the new Ricky Gervais podcast. It just started this month. Hilarious. On your local iTunes.

My other beginning, will be a big cleanse fest starting tomorrow. Who doesn't begin each new year with some diet or exercise fad. Russ and I independantly decided to go with super foods, juices, no fried foods, no alcohol, lots of water for 2 weeks. He's doing it for his race, I'm doing it because I feel crappy.

Last day of 2005 - rain in LA.

Ready, set...2006!!

Extreme!

I have been Extremed! I was on extreme Homemakover last night.
I didn’t see it, but Russ did. On Halloween, they were here taping Ty Pennington running around the second floor of our building at Disney. I was up there and was trying to hide by the staircase because I didn’t want to be on camera. It was Halloween and I was in my Kirby the alien costume – head to toe in Maroon fur. But because I was in costume, Ty came running over to me and started asking me questions on camera. And apparently I’m the only one they kept out of the all the stuff they shot at Feature Animation. It’s just me saying “The Big Guy?” in response to his asking where the big guy is. How weird is that?


And Duncan came through with flying colors in his chemo!!! YAY! And the tumor is smaller. YAY!! Good boy Duncan!

The Me I used to Be

I remember once when I did stand up comedy, someone told me I would be much funnier if I were uglier. He told me, "You should get in a car crash or something. You know, smash you face up or something." Sage advice from some tubby, drunken loser of a standup. I wonder where he is now? Which bar is he slumped over? Years later, I did a series of sketch comedy shows at ACME theatre in LA. Those were the golden years. My favorite and best received show was called "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Sunday Show" with TV's Wil Wheaton.

Looking back on Wil's blog and the linked blogs to Shane Nickerson and Annie Sertich, it's inspired me to write like I used to: for the funny. Sure introspection is fun, but comedy is MORE fun. If I can just remember how to write it.....and photograph it. Pictures = funny!

Last Day of Shiva

As the sun sets on LA, I am reminded that it is the last moments of shiva for Caryn. I knew her from dance class. She was an incredibly emotional dancer who often talked about her various acting projects. Last week, I heard she had died suddenly from some type of infection. In the mail was her website. I had never really checked it out before, even though I had discussed it with her and received several emails about it. But now, I look at it often. I never knew how much Caryn liked gardening or that she had written many recipes for a variety of vegetarian meals. I wish I had looked. I wish I had known that part of her. I wish I could ask her questions. Such as why didn't I get to know her better when I had the chance.

http://www.caryn.com

Up Chuck

So, maybe Meloxicam is not such a good idea. Dang. I felt like the tumor was getting smaller. Or at least the tissue surrounding it. But Duncan was definitely getting constipated. And he had 2 bouts, one severe, with vomiting. After looking Meloxicam up on the WORLD WIDE WEB I discovered a list of things:

1. Meloxicam is not approved for feline use
2. Cats are sensitive to NSAIDS in general
3. Meloxicam is renotoxic - Dunan has chronic kidney failure

So, maybe Meloxicam is not for him. Will any of the NSAIDS family? The steriodal type of anti-inflammatory would not even be a consideration, which leaves us with out a viable option for anti-inflammatory, specifically a COX-1 blocker.

Meloxicam

Today we started Duncan on Meloxicam, which is like asprin for pets. In one case, it shrunk a tumor. At the very least it will relieve any inflamation from the cancer. At best, it will slow the growth.

Today it's very sunny and warm. Duncan was enjoying laying out in a sunbeam on the porch. That's his favorite. I seeded the lawn. And why not? Although most people add steer manure. I think that would really mess up the cats. Could be fun! Maybe they'll think we adopted a bull.

Meowstrong

I talked to the oncologist tonight. I asked him what he would do and he said he
would do
radiation and surgery, but then he would always do the most radical treatment
because he
is an oncologist. And I think that's what makes him a very good oncologist.
But I still
don't think that is the way I want to go with Duncan. I am really interetsed in
the
interlesionary chemo. It's a pretty easy treatment adn I guess it is somewhat
effective. It's
just that it's not curative. And I've already come to terms with that. I am
not expecting a
cure. I did that with surgery and it didn't work, so I have no expaectations
for a cure for
Duncan at all. Just something to slow it all down a bit. And interlesionary
chemo seems
to be the best solution. And Meloxicam.

Duncan is so cuddly. He's very happy right now. I just want to keep it that
way.

I ordered wrinstbands like the Live Strong ones except mine say MEOWSTRONG. They're gray and white like Duncan. I just got them in last week. Russ gave Dr Nunez one today and he almost cried. It's so nice to know so many people will be united for one kitty by a little wristband.

Sword of Damocles

Duncan went to see Dr Johnny Chretin at VCA today to see what choices
we had. He was very, very dismayed that the cancer had returned. We
had HUGE clean margins. He went through all the possible choices with
the caveat that Duncan might not qualify for some of these if further
tests reveal more kidney disease or metastasis. The choices in order are:
1. 20 days of radiation followed by surgery, which would be very
difficult given the location of the tumors.
2. just surgery, which we know won't get clean margins
3. just radiation, which would be harder on him than surgery, so it
was recommended that if we do radiation, surgery would be a cake walk.
4. full body chemo, which seems to have limited success
5. localized chemo which would be difficult to do on a tumor his size
6. anti-inflammatories and the like

I was amazed that the radiation and surgery would run $8,000. Wow.
Radiation alone is $6,000.

It's so hard to make a decision. We can't figure out why the cancer
came back. And Dr Chretin had never personally seen a cat with
liposarcoma. It's just not that common. There is a chance that the
sub-Q fluids are what he's having a reaction to, which kills me
because in essence, WE gave him cancer. Of course, he can't survive
without the fluids either. Poor guy is resting right under the Sword
of Damocles.

That said, I'm not completely convinced that an expensive, radical,
painful proceedure is in order simply because it didn't work last
time. Meaning, the cancer came back. What if we do the surgery with
radiation, put the little guy through hell and it comes back in 6
months again? We're going to sleep on it and try to figure it out. I
feel like a deer in headlights. I probably look like one too.

LipoSirDuncan

Well, our worst fears have been realized. Sir Duncan's liposarcoma has returned. I'm not sure, as I mentioned before, that we have many treatment options. Wow. I really thought going through the amputation would have given us much more time. I was counting on a year. I suppose I should have the vet contact the oncologist, although I have a feeling his response will be that we could do radiation if we want to, and frankly I don't really want to. I think it will be way too hard on his kidneys. I know I should be more willing to fight, but I feel drawn to resignation. I suppose that's the depression. And knowing that we did so much last time and it didn't help much.

We're going to see if the homeopathic stuff keeps the tumor growth in check. I forgot what it's called. Don't you wish there was a magic creme that would dissolve tumors? Like Compound W for cancer?

Do cats get night sweats? Duncan seems very hot at night. Not like a fever, because his ears are cool. It just seems like he's generating a lot of heat.

Hope all you Floridians are OK......

Dr Bamford, the holistic vet, did a FNA yesterday as she was concerned about one of the lumps. The one closest to the scar she is not worried about. But one on his right shoulder gave her pause. It's a little big and she couldn't feel all the way around it. It seems to be attached to his scapula. That worried her. So, we'll wait until we hear back. She is also in agreement that surgery would not be recommended because there would be no way to get clean margins. But she also agreed that Duncan seems not to be bothered at all by it. We'll continue to hug him as much as possible.

Meantime, Russ tells me the character I voice in Chicken Little, Hollywood Abby, is featured in the new ads for the film. Yay. At least it keeps me distracted.

Mr Lumpy

Russ is taking Duncan to our holistic vet today. His lumps (there are 4 now) are getting a little bigger. I want to get Dr Bamford's opinion on the consistancy of the lumps. They feel squishy to me, which is inconsistant with liposarcoma.

I feel strangely calm about all this, not like the first round. I chalk this up to:
1. Complete Denial
2. Acceptance of the Inevitable
OR
3. An Instictive Notion that It's Not Cancer.

At any rate, I feel our treatment options are narrow. Surgery is not a possibility. And given Duncan's kidneys, I'm not sure chemo or radiation would be good for him. The most curious thing is that the tumors came back about 2 inches or more distal to the surgery. Given that he had remarkably clean, wide margins, it just seems odd.

I had the vet reread the X-rays from August. He verified that there was absolutely no sign of cancer as of August 23. My regular vet has been very hands off, not really recommending treatment probably because he's reading that I'm not receptive to it.

Well, I'll let you know what Dr Bamford says.

My Lumpy Cat

Poor little Duncan. He now has 4 lumps. I found one over the weekend, again the size of a pea, on the left of his spine in the area of his amputation. This makes me think it is in fact a return of the cancer. The other 3 lumps were well on the right side of his spine, not that close to the scar. But they all have the same behavior of starting out like a pea shaped thing and then flattening out to teh size of a dime. Meantime, he acts like nothing is wrong. He did go through a weird thing with his diet. He just decided he didn't like his food and snubbed most all of it. He's really into Cluck-a-Doodle-Doo. It's a fish flavor - go figure.

Speaking of cluck, we went to the Chicken Little wrap party on Saturday and had the most fabulous time. The party was huge and the bars were plentiful. There was karaoke, so needless to say, there was Russ and Dara singing karaoke. Photo to follow.

The movie turned out well; rather cute actually. But my thoughts turn to Duncan.

Not Again

Back in August, we took Duncan for his 6 month check up complete with x-rays. Everything came out clear! No metastisis! Lungs are clear! We were so happy. And just in time. The summer had been wrought with other personal stresses. Finally, 2005 seemed to be heading for a happy ending. Then about 1 week later, I found 3 small lumps on Duncan's right side near his spine. Russ was speaking at the time, but his voice trailed off as I shifted focus from the conversation to the little masses underneath poor Duncan's skin. I was devistated. Cancer? Again? But he just got a clean bill of health.

I decided to wait until after Seattle to mention it. The lumps were still there. So I wrote a post about it in the VAS Yahoo group. Everyone was optimistic. And we decided a FNA wouldn't hurt. So I think I might go in for that. I guess. Does it help to know? Especially if there is nothing we can do? Maybe we just ignore it until he starts to feel bad. What to do.......

For now Duncan is happy and energetic as always. I wish he stayed like this always.

Control This

For years, man has tried to control his environment. And when he could not control it, he invented various gods that could. These gods could be swayed with gifts or sacrifices to control the environment in a particular fashion. If events occured which did not suit your tastes, then clearly your gifts or sacrifices were not as good as the other guy's. Much like two football teams on Superbowl Sunday. The winner inevitably states that God was on their side. Apparently, God has never been a Bills fan. Or a Cubs fan if you're more into the summer sports. But you get my point. Events which you can't control must be controlled by some other being. Somebody HAS to be in control. Things don't just happen, right?

And why is not being in control a bad thing? Sometimes things happen outside your control that are good. Such as rain in a drought or winning the lottery.

And sometimes things happen outside your control that are not good. Such as cancer or strokes. Or loss. Sometimes loss is outside your control. And there is nothing worse than watching something you love slip through your fingers, drifting away, getting smaller and smaller, fainter and fainter, until it's only a memory. There is nothing you can really do about it. You scream and cry and beg for it to stay. But there you are at the endof it all alone and quiet. And wondering what in the world you did (or didn't do) to make someone you love so much want to leave.

But like the ancients who tried to appease the gods, in the end it's all futile. For death is death and all things must die. Moms, cats, love. Nothing lasts forever.

We made it!

YAY! I wanted to wait until we were well into July to finally admit that the psychic was WRONG and Duncan lived past June. My friend suggested I go back to the psychic and demand to know why she thought she was wrong. I just want to celebrate the fact that she was. I never really believed that Duncan would only live four months. But let me tell you, I was up until 11:15 June 30 worrying about it. I finally decided that the last 45 minutes were pretty safe and went to bed. He's just as cute and cuddly as ever. He's chased his toy bee, he's jumped down from the sink, he's even started greeting us at the door, which I thought he would never do again. He seems to be loving life to the fullest and I couldn't be prouder!

Russ is a different story however. A month ago, he started having tremors in his left hand, the same one that was numb back in March. Today he went to the Dr for a check up. The doctor was not at all pleased about the tremors, yet declined to say what he thought it was. So, that makes us nervous. We find out more next week. Until then our minds race with thoughts of Parkinsons or MS or brain tumors....Scary........

Dream On

I had a very strange dream last night. It might have been a past life recollection.


I was traveling across some land which was hilly and green. I was on the ground but not in a car. I looked up and saw several winged people carrying non-winged people. The winged ones sported beautiful light pink and white feathered wings. They were beautiful. I couldn’t believe that someone had made wings that you could actually use to fly. Then I came into a large building with many rooms. There was a lot of activity. There were elders that had gathered as well. Everyone was preparing me and one other person for a trip. We were the only 2 people allowed into the “enemy’s” camp. We had some sort of guild membership which allowed us to enter their land. Everyone was giving me supplies for the trip. My ex-husband's Mom gave me a gold bowl which had been hammered into it’s shape. She also gave me a green piece of mid-century pottery that her mother had made. It was sort of a long cigar shaped bowl, like an olive dish. I was afraid it would break, so I left it behind. And I thought the gold bowl would be much luckier. I was also given some kind of object to give to the enemy, nothing dangerous or aggressive. I was concerned that I couldn’t carry all these things and steer the animal I was to ride. I don’t remember if it flew or not, only that it had reigns.



Isn’t that weird? The only thing I did even remotely close to any of this was attend Irish class, but we read a contemporary story. I have no idea what this means

Has Been

I got something today I haven't received in years: a request from a casting director. I stopped acting professionally in 1998, just before the big commercial strike. It was a well timed retirement, considering. But all of my calls had become "bite and smiles" which is the sort of commercial where you take a bite of something and become orgasmic about it's taste. I'm not a good bite and smile candidate. That's more of a tooth model job. One of my last auditions consisted of me talking to a camera, alone, while the casting people gnawed newly arrived KFC. No one noticed when I left the room, the chicken was more interesting. Another was for Knorr soups, which had decided to call itself "Ka-Norr." We all joked about "ka-nocking" before we entered. It was a stupid commercial. A business women is waiting for her luggage at LAX and worrying about what to cook for dinner. Suddenly a chef rolls by on the luggage carousel, as they do. He gives her a meal short-cut with Ka-Norr. She is pleased. I would have thought they wanted a commercial, over-the-top sort of read. I mean it's a chef on the luggage thing. But once I got in front of the camera, the casting people told me to read it very straight, very subtle. OK. I read it as deadpan as I could. No reaction. They looked at each other and said, "Well, it's VERY subtle, almost dramatic." "Yes," the other casting person remarked, "but she could give it a bit more reaction. Maybe she's frightened by the chef." What?? We're inventing way too much back story here. And I was intimidated by the 17 six-foot tall models out in the lobby waiting to come in. Clearly a five-foot character actress was not what they wanted. I just reacted. I said, "It's not fucking Shakespeare." They stopped, stared at me...and politely said thank you, that is all. And I never went back to that studio again.

Life, Misery and Other Excuses

I hate it when people say they were going to do something but something else got in the way. "I was going to bake a cake for you, but it got late." "We were going to make it to your party, but he didn't feel well." They are all mild excuses for missing out on an event, an occasion or an obligation. Mostly they are kinder ways of saying “I don’t want to hang out with you – you’re boring.” But they can also be truly tragic. “I missed the party because my husband was in the hospital.”



When did life get so complicated that we have to make excuses? What are we missing when we don’t see through our obligations? Are we just losing sleep or are we missing true opportunities?



Saturday night, Russ and I went to see our friend Eva’s play. She wrote and produced it. Usually, that’s a bad sign. We thought about not going. We were tired. We’re always tired it seems. But we went, convinced we’d make the best of it. What we found was an astounding play, unbelievably good. Written by a 24 year old. I’m 40 and I haven’t’ done anything even close. The play made us feel great for seeing our friend’s remarkable talent. And then we felt bad because we’re underachievers. Then I decided to blog. Maybe it’s a start. On what, I have no idea. But I woke up with this title. Maybe I can think of something to fill up the rest.

Hello Again

What a busy 2 weeks a work! I'm working on a couple of shots for a CG animated movie. I'm trying to render different levels of the scene for an artist to composite. But my renders were coming out all black. Sort of like a polaroid that gets pulled apart before it develops. That is the OLD polaroids that you had to separate not the new ones that just develop before your eyes. I'm babbling.

Tomorrow I"m planting a bunch of plants in the garden. I'm making one spot for Chelsea, one of the VAS cats who left us on Tuesday. Something about her touched my heart. Many of the VAS cats do, but I felt the need to make something for Chelsea. Maybe because she liked gardens so much. I picked some whote flowers with one orange striped gazania, since that was Chelsea's color. I hope they survive. How horrible to plant a tribute that then dies itself. Then you would have to plant a tribute to the tribute. I hope it doesn't get carried away.

I'm doing almost entirely gardening this weekend. I think I have found a new obsession. Once back at work on Tuesday, we have the opportunity to meet the original Luke Skywalker, Mark Hamill. I'm very excited, but I think Russ is even more so even though he doesn't get to meet him in first person. He'll have to rely on my version of the visit.

Duncan is fine though. His hair is growing back and he seems so happy, except for an abcessed tooth. But we're trying some homeopathic stuff. Good boy Duncan!

Long time no blog

My bad. There actually have been developments, which I will now catch up on.

First, the biggest. Hawaii. It was great. We snorkled an dsaw lots of cute fish. I liked to chase them around the coral.. I doubt they enjoyed that, but hey, better than having someone tap on the fishtank. We stayed at a really fun hotel with a Tiki Bar full of Shag paintings. The food was great. We ventured north and did the Shrimp Truck and more snorkling. Then Russ cut his heel on coral and it would not stop bleeding. So we had to head back to the hotel and drop off the car. We went to the Urgent Care place, but they didn't take our insurance. At this point, I was on the beach waiting because it was so COLD in that office. Russ phoned me to say he was on his way to the ER where they would take his insurance. He gave me an out which I quickly took to not stay with him at the ER. I took the time to shop for trinkets for my family so it worked out OK, except of course that Russ was in the hospital. Is that cold? The next day, poor Russ was depressed and stayed in and watched TV while I took a surfing lesson. I had to. When would I get another chance to surf on Waikiki Beach?

When we returned home, Duncan was doing great. More energy and interest than I have seen from him in a long time. Even since before the surgery. Then he started on this weird series of constipation/diarrhea. It's been going on for 2 weeks now. Not sure if the enema and medications have completly disrupted his system or if he has something going on there, some disease. I've got him off meds now to see if he can right himself through diet alone. We hope for the best. But his energy level is really good.

Of course as soon as I started to write this, some work has come in, so I"ll have to finish this later. I promise.

It's not Amway

"I'd like to share the good news with you."

Growing up in the South, this was a warning sign. Someone was either about to talk to you about Jesus or Amway. The latter involved a lengthy pitch that ended with a soap-buying spree. The former was much shorter and ended in either a cult or being tipped backwards into some type of water - a lake, river or in most cases a small pool.

Maybe I'm just too nervous to talk about good things. Maybe I'm afraid I'll jinx it and bad things will happen. Or maybe I'm just afraid I'll be mistaken for Mormons.

I"m finally feeling back to normal. So is Duncan. So is Russ. Wednesday night, Duncan sat in the kitchen with me for hours and helped me make Irish Brown bread for cheese club at work and a coconut cake for no reason in particular. We had a good time. Russ is feeling much better and getting ready to end one of his medications. I've started running again. I tried to pick up where I left off, but too much time had passed. My knees weren't keen on the idea of running 9 miles last week. Or 8 or 7. They gave out after 2. So, I have to start over a bit. Today, we would have been touring Dublin and getting over jetlag. Maybe seeing Kilmainham jail or the Book of Kells again, or perhaps St. Patricks Cathedral for Good Friday. Instead, I'm putting in a composter. We leave for Hawaii on April 11. I'm very excited about that trip, even though it's uncharacteristic of us to a. visit a crowded city and stay there and b. not go to the UK. Well, got shake it up I guess.

And I'm not complaining. I'm not. I'm thinking. And learning. And trying to figure out what happened. I know who I was going in, but I need to figure out who I am coming out. It's all been like an Easy-bake oven. And I'm that crappy little metal pan that you used to fill with a tiny amount of cake batter and let it cook under a light bulb. If you left it in too long, it didn't really burn so much as dry up around the edges. Hopefully, I'm still moist. Although I've been under the light bulb too long.

Just when you thought it was safe...

Sunday morning, I picked out the perfect Hawaiian vacation. It's a cute hotel, on teh beach in Waikiki, coudn;t be better. We decided that we NEED to get away and a few days on the beach sounded like the perfect thing. Then Russ mentioned that his left hand had become numb. We decided to wait a few hours to see if it got better. After lunch, he started not feeling well at all. Then by 1, he made the call: Let's go to the emergency room! At 3:30, he had a preliminary screening. His blood pressure was 195 over 110. Impossible for someone who runs 30 miles a week. They were concerned. And with the numbness, a stroke was a possibility. So, they admitted him. This was 8pm. I ran home, fed the cats and explained to Duncan that now it is Russ' turn to be in the hospital. Paxton was indifferent as always. He's a good cat - he just goes with the flow. Good thing I didn't book the vacation, I thought. If he has any sign of stoke he can't fly. I spent the first night ever in a hospital that night, as did Russ. We had no idea how noisey those things get at night. Hospitals are not made for sleeping. There were doctors and nurses coming in and out at all hours. Yesterday, more tests. MRI, ultrasound, echo cardiogram. All negative, which is good. But the numb hand has everyone stumped. So we stayed again last night. Poor Russ finally slept because they gave him a sedative for the MRI. Here I am at home trying to catch up on things, care for the cats, etc. Duncan keeps throwing up this morning. I may have to take him to HIS hospital later if he can't hold down food. I'm going to take a nap for now though. I'm tired and I can't type properly. More later, I promise.

No more stitches

Yesterday, Duncan had his stitches out. He's such a good little cat! He actually seems to be enjoying the car. And of course his jazz. We've also discovered that he's not a big fan of the Beatles. We are crushed at this news. Since he had the stitches out, he's been really trying to get back to ALL his old stuff. He still walks funny though. If you get on all fours (I did this while trying to imagine how hard it was going to be for Duncan) and walk around, then try taking out the front left leg, you will notice that you have to use the right one twice as much. I thought it wouldbe more of a "waltz." But it is like a synchopated tempo with a distinct THUD on beats 2 and 4. His back is very arched and he keeps his upper body low to the ground. But he gets along pretty fast. And he has been up to the top of the sofa so he can look out the window. And last night he started demanding things like food. It's all very heart warming.

Meantime, the vacation plans are all over the place. We don't want to leave Duncan too long. But I won't get another chunk of time for a year. So, the tick will be to find the compromise. And NO I am not going to Temecula for vacation, and that's final!

But since we're not running in the half marathon, I wonder, "Why am I still running?" TBD.

Turning the corner

Duncan had such a great day yesterday. He's climbing up on chairs, which is good. He's starting to get the idea that he can get around on his own. So, today I went home at lunch as I have been to feed him and take him to his box. After he ate, he walked to the box on his own and then walked out to the back porch, down 2 stairs. That's really good! He was taking breaks along the way and resting, but pretty much getting where he wanted to get. I changed clothes and went out for a 3 mile run, leaving the guys on the back porch where they could hang out and watch the world. It's all fenced, so no worries about getting out. And they can get back in the house when they need to. On my run, I came up with a clever plan to put a board on the bed like a plank. So Duncan can simply walk up and down to get on or off the bed. I was so excited at the prospect that Duncan could be completely independent and then I won't have to check on him at lunch any more! When I came back, I expected to find the cats still on the porch, with Duncan probably sniffing around the cactus. What I found however was both cats ON THE BED. So, Duncan walked back in the house and somehow got back on the bed all by himself. I have no idea how, but I can assume he jumped and probably pulled himself up by one leg. He was just falling asleep as I inspected him to make sure he had nothing strained or broken. He seems fine. Amazing creatures they are!!!!

So at this point I feel so much better about Duncan, the whole process, the cancer that is probably entirely out of Duncan and sitting in a lab somewhere in LA county. I wonder if cancer keeps growing on the tissue even after it has been excised from a living body. How long can it sustain itself? Does it keep growing until it turns into a blob and takes over a small town until those rebel teens led by a young Steve McQueen beat it into submission with a a massive blast of chemo?

And now the running. Russ and I have been training to run a half marathon in Ireland March 27. We've been training since last August. But now the trip is in jeopardy. So much money has been spent on Duncan, plus up until today, we weren't sure about leaving him with a sitter. And then Russ' project is over in 2 weeks not 8 as expected, so he has not work coming in. And I never bought airline tickets because I was waiting on those winter deals but they just didn't coincide with my plans. What to do? Duncan has turned a corner, a big corner, in his recovery. But have I?

*Maybe* cancer free

Yesterday the surgeon called to check on Duncan. He's doing pretty good. Everyday gets a little better. He's eating well. He loves going outside to sit in the sun. He's still not moving around on his own very much. And yesterday he was a little cranky. I think his compression bandage being off made him a little sore. But today he seems happier. He's starting to venture out a little more, climbing up the 2 stairs from the porch to the house and climbing down from a counter to my lap. That latter one is important because climbing down is much , much harder on a front amputee. His scar is pretty funky. He looks like a Sharpei under his t-shirt. So, I think we'll leave that on for a while. The surgeon mentioned that there was way more skin on the front than the back part of the wound so she had to gather it and attach it. It looks like he has a ruffle. Creepy. And she pulled the skin from his belly up to his side. So he has a nipple on his side. And that cute pink underbelly that cats have is also now in full view on his left. He's really disfigured actually. I'm glad he has no vanity. Dignity, perhaps. And that's what stops me from dressing him up in little costumes that you can buy at the Build-A-Bear store. It's just not right for him to be dressed in a Lakers jersey just to cover his gnarly wound. The surgeon, Dr Tina Owen, whom Duncan calls Dr Tuna, said that the lab report came back and it looks like they got a complete resection. They will go back and check the cells on the perimeter to insure that none of them are malignant. At that point, we can consider Duncan to be cancer free.

I feel a bit better about the whole thing . It still kills me to see him struggle and get frustrated. I just wish we could have saved his leg.

Getting Better

Oh, what a weekend. Duncan is getting better every day although he still doesn't walk by himself. He can he just doesn't like to. We pretty much stayed home all weekend doing things around the house. We have to take Duncan over to his food and then to the box and to his water. We have a system of sorts. He meows or pets us with is paw when he wants to be moved. Once he's on the ground he can get around by himself, but he tires easily. I took him outside on saturday. He was very excited to sit in the grass and check out some stuff outside. He managed pretty well. But went inside quickly. Steps are easy for him. At least going up is.

Today he got his bandage off. Everything looks good the vet says. Duncan didn't cry once in the car like he normally does. I think he has completely acquiesced to his situation. I bought him a t-shirt that says Rock Star on it. It keeps him warm and hopefully keeps him from scratching his stitches. Poor guy. He used to hate wearing clothes, but again, he acquiesced. I'm hoping this week, he'll be more excited about walking around. I know he wants to explore. He just needs to get his energy back.

His scar is pretty gross. On one side he has lots of extra skin so he looks like he has a ruffle. He enjoyed being scratched where his bandage used to be. I'm still feeling guilty. I can only find 2 incidents of vaccinations so far, and probably only one of them in 1997 has a chance of being at that site. If not, we have no idea what caused the cancer. Which leads me to the question, can it come back? And it makes me think if it's not vaccine related, was it a controllable cancer? From all I read about liposarcoma, not just vaccine related cancers, the answer is no. Liposarcoma is aggressive and hard to control. But I will probably always wonder what would have happened if we had left it alone. You see, there are no correct answers in this game. Everyone loses. Of course, if Duncan gets another 2 years, then we all win. As long as he's OK having 2 years without a fourth leg.

At least he is very cuddly. I don't get the feeling that he no longer trusts us or feels resentment. I only get that he's very mad he can't walk around like he wants to. Yesterday was the first day I didn't cry in about 15 days or so. I think my eyes are starting to de-puff.

In spite of my ever-present guilt, I feel like this is all going to be OK.

VAS Support Group

This past week would not have been possible without the support of my new friends in the VAS support group. Surprisingly, as much as I researched all the things about liposarcoma and cancers in felines, I only came across this on Friday. And not a moment too soon. The kind folks helped me though the final decision and the preparations before. Many cats in the group have been through the same thing and the owners have already faced the harrowing days and nights of crying, flopping around, pain patches, etc. Sadly, since I joined last Friday, 4 cats have "crossed the rainbow bridge." It's amazing how close the internet has made the world. And this is a group who shares in love and support. A welcome change from the usual BBs in which people find the most hurtful and cruel things to post. For what reason? It's great to know there are good people out there in the world.

It Takes Two to Heal

It takes two to heal

Thanks, Kate, for getting my butt in gear and back on the blog. Duncan is…OK. But this is still really hard.

I brought him home Tuesday night. He was so glad to see me. I was less shocked than I thought at the sight of his minus-one-leg. He’s bandaged up in a compression bandage, so it just looks like his arm is hidden. But he is so much lighter. That felt weird. And not just hasn’t eaten in two days lighter. This is something-is-missing lighter. The car ride was long. I had to go through Hollywood because the rains had made traffic a nightmare. It took about an hour and 15 minutes to get home. Duncan was so glad to be home. I carried him in and he struggled to get out of my arms. I set him down and he tried to walk. He looked like a fish in a boat, flopping around and so desperately trying to get somewhere. Anywhere. He finally gave up and just lay there, panting. It broke my heart. He glared at me. Something is terribly wrong. I picked him up and carried him to his food. He couldn’t stand, but he ate almost an entire can of food. I was relieved his appetite was good. At least we wouldn’t have to deal with upset stomachs and kidney issues. He lay on the floor to eat. Then he dragged himself over to the water. Paxton was very confused. He puffed himself up, big tail, the works. He didn’t recognize this floundering fur ball. And it smelled like fear and hospitals. Paxton lost his appetite and left. Duncan looked so confused. Later, I was in the office and I heard a thud-scoot, thud scoot. Duncan was determined to get himself from the food to the office. He couldn’t walk; it was more of a scoot. But he made his way to the litter box, stepped in and did his thing. But then he was so exhausted, he just lay there. At that moment, Russ came in from being on the road for a week. It reminded me of the moment Russ met Duncan. We had been dating for 2 months. I had picked up Duncan at a grocery store where a little boy was selling kittens for $5. I called Russ and told him to come over, I had a surprise. He walked in and Duncan, who had been hiding under a table, slid out. All 10 ounces of him. He was a skinny little runt kitten only six weeks old. And he stole our hearts.

We carried Duncan around some. And Russ kept trying to get him to walk by himself. He learned how to rollover. But walking is still difficult. Yesterday, I was still so sad and depressed. I stayed home most of the day and napped with him. He continued to eat and use the box. We all watched part of a movie all snuggled together. Today, the patch is starting to wear off. Duncan is in pain. This is killing me. I willfully decided to put my cat through this! Right now he’s under the bed hiding. He still eats like a champ. But he often crawls a bit, stops and then cries. It’s that plaintive loud cry that he uses when he’s in the car. I pick him up and cradle him. He purrs and cuddles and falls asleep.

I talked to the hospital and they offered to put on another patch. I was hoping to get some pills so he’s not drugged for another 3 days. They said as long as he’s eating, he’s OK. I’m going to let him sleep a few more hours. If he’s still miserable, I’m calling our regular vet tonight. I can’t let him be in pain. And I still think the owner should get a patch as well. Or at least some valium.

This feels like it will never end. I want my cat back.

What Have I Done?

It’s over! The surgery is over and Duncan is fine. He’s sleeping with the help of some tranquilizers and morphine, which I imagine is going to irritate his kidney condition. Well, there goes the welcome home keg idea. We’ll have to stick with water.

Dropping Duncan off this morning was the most emotional part of the whole thing. The Hospital was very busy, especially for a rainy holiday. Patients were all abuzz about the “tornado” making it’s way from Huntington Beach to Anaheim. By tornado I think they mean, “wind.” It was a really bad storm that passed through. I wondered if the hospital had a generator. Thoughts passed through my mind of power outages during the operation. Or a mix-up in which Duncan accidentally gets an appendectomy. I only met with one of the office workers. I broke down in tears when I handed him over still wondering if this was the right thing to do. He’s 13!! He has kidney disease! He looked at me with so much trust and love. I think he was trying to comfort me. And I left him there to have a limb amputated. Will he hate me? Will he ever trust me again? Should he?

I cried in my car again. I’m starting to care less if I have big, black mascara streaks running down my face. But today, I was meeting my friend Bob at a mall in Beverly Hills (near the hospital). We needed to catch up and I needed to distract myself from reality. So I pulled out the makeup bag I brought with me and doctored my swollen face. It’s make-up, not magic. I did what I could and went into the just-opening mall. For some reason, I bought an obscene amount of moisturizer today. I don’t know why. Peppermint, Brazil nut, unscented, coconut, and a hair moisturizer. Maybe I feel dried out because I’ve cried so much. I wonder how many gallons of tears I’ve shed in the last 4 weeks? Maybe I just need a layer of something oily between me and reality. Like a protective shell. Turtle Wax, if you will, for the soul.

At 10:30, I meet Bob and we head for CPK pizza. Comfort food! At 11:30, Dr Owens (Dr Tuna) calls. We never really resolved if we were doing an amputation or not. We discuss. IF there is any way to get a fair margin AND leave the leg, that would be preferable. Also, if the CT scan shows any sign of cancer or disease other than the tumor, then don’t bother putting him through this. She agrees and heads off to consult again with Dr Creitin, the oncologist. At 1pm, she calls again. They COULD leave the leg and do radiation instead. I can’t accept this plan. Duncan’s kidneys can’t take too much sedative and radiation would require him to be put under every day for a week, or something like that. And I have very personal issues with radiation because of my Mom. That’s another blog for another day. So, here I am on the phone with the surgeon who is asking me again if I am sure I want to do the amputation. I almost changed my mind. Will I regret not calling her back? As I was trying to distract myself with the Spring 1 collection at the Gap (I don’t even remember what was there), I almost changed my mind. I thought to myself, “If I call right now I can catch her before she goes in.” Like a clemency from the governor at 11:59. And I let it go. I didn’t call. I left them take his leg. And right now I feel like that makes me a bad person.

At 2:30, I was sitting in the middle of the mall. I was tired and worried and the stores have bad reception and I was terrified of missing a call. I wished I could be home or at least somewhere more private. But LA is weird that way. I live 15 miles away, but it will take 1.5 hours to get there. And I wanted to be close in case anything happened. But the call came. Duncan is fine. It’s all over. Duncan is a tripod.

I felt the weight of 4 weeks of research and buckets of tears lifted. He made it. Dr Owen said he might get to come home Tuesday night. That would be great! He’d probably recover better at home anyway! I thanked her profusely. When I got home, it started to sink in. He’s not there. And the house felt so empty in spite of the fact hat Paxton was there waiting to be petted. I would hear creaks in the floor and look up thinking Duncan would saunter over. But as happy as I am that he is ALIVE, there are challenges ahead. I won’t hear a 4/4-time pattern to his footsteps. He will walk to the tune of a waltz. He will need help getting around. He won’t be able to jump to/from some places like he used to. Our lives are forever changed. And I realize that all those words that the vets said, “animals are so adaptable,” that doesn’t include humans. Because there is so much change ahead. And I for one don’t like it. And I for one don’t know if I can adapt.

What have I done?

That Morning

I awoke with a start at 7:15. The manual alarm clock had stopped at 2:30. Piece of crap. My dad always talks about his uncanny ability to wake up ay any given time he chooses without an alarm, although I always suspected a backup was in place just in case. Today, heredity was on my side.

The cats are wondering why I'm so STUPID, forgetting to feed them! Duncan is scratching on the post. He never used to do that! Good thing he's getting a good scratch in today! I think I might put him on the counter a couple of times so he can jump down one last time.

I bought myself a battery operated toothbrush, thinking it would distract me. It's purple. A purple, noisey wiggly toothbrush. Duncan popped up on the sink to inspect it and promptly smacked it. It's too loud, he decided.

The weatherman says to stay at home today, the storms are going to be bad this morning. I wish I could stay home today. But we have to go get the bad-dog cancer removed.

(No offense to dog owners. We named the cancer something he doesn't like, which happens to be dogs.)

The Choice

This has been the hardest week of my life.

Duncan had his CT scan on Monday. That was hard because I was afraid the anesthesia would kill him, and I think I’m starting to deal with the emotional weight of the issue. So I cried all day. After I dropped him off, I went to get coffee and I sat in the car for 20 minutes just crying. I couldn’t stop. Around noon, we went to visit him. He was dopey, but happy to see us and he clearly wanted to leave. He kept trying to get out of his cage, tripping over his various ivs. I was glad he was OK, but I hated leaving him there even though it was just for 2 hours so he could hydrate. The anesthesia is hard on his already diseased kidneys. So, they flush his system with plenty of fluids.

Tuesday, Russ left for a weeklong shoot about prizewinning bulls or something like that. That evening, I had a consult with a holistic vet. She was wonderful. And to my surprise, she recommended amputation. This cancer is so aggressive particularly if it is partially excised. She mentioned that she had one patient who had one surgery and the tumor grew back, but they were able to keep her going for nine months. That was the greatest success she had with holistic therapy and this cancer. Amputation however can successfully remove all of the cancer so the cat can enjoy a cancer free life. Survival rates are highest with radical surgery alone. Partial surgery has the lowest survival rates and radiation and chemo have rates in between. Of course it depends on which study you read. And it depends where the cancer is. But the holistic vet felt strongly that amputation would be the way to go. She assured me that animals don’t have the same emotional attachment to their limbs that people do. Duncan won’t wake up and think, “AHHHK! Where’s my leg?!???!?” He will wake up and think, “Hmmm. I have to figure out a way to stand.” And then he adapts. And his human freaks out.

Wednesday, the surgeon called. She consulted with the oncologist, who is reported to be one of the best in the west. They reviewed the scan and felt that amputation is the way to go. BUT she did give us the option of NOT amputating. Well, this throws a wrench into it. Now there is a choice. Another choice. We could leave the leg. I didn’t think she would offer that as an option. She could scrape out as much of the cancer as possible. He wouldn’t need as much recovery time. He would still be my same little Duncan. BUT. There is always a but…. The tumor mass is so close to the shoulder blade that they feel the need to take that. This cancer likes to grow along connective tissue and muscle fascia. If anything is left, it will quickly invade the shoulder and the chest cavity and ultimately the lungs. Operations would not be an option at that point, nor would any other treatment. We’d make him comfortable. He would have a few weeks. He would be in pain. And his human would freak out.

Thursday, our regular vet called. He was unusually down. “I’m sorry you have to go through this. It really sucks.” I asked him about his experience with tripods and cancers. He told me the same thing about animals adapting to their new stance. That, apparently, is not a big deal. For the animal. This human, however, is having a really hard time with it. He also told me that most people opt for the lumpectomy, which never works. It always comes back, fast and nasty. He told me he always wishes they had done an amputation the first time around. Always. Wow. That’s 3 vets and an oncologist telling me that amputation is the right thing to do. And still I question it.

Friday, I go to a therapist to talk about how guilty I feel and the fact that I can’t stop crying. She has pets too. She cries. She asks a lot of questions about vaccine-associated sarcomas. She didn’t know. She assures me Duncan will be happy to see me no matter how many legs he has and that I’ll feel better once I see that his personality hasn’t changed. He is still the same cuddly kitty. In the car as I drive back to work (minus all my eye makeup), I beg for a sign that this is OK, that I’m not subjecting something I love so much to needless pain and suffering. I mean I don’t believe in declawing, how could I believe in AMPUTATION? It doesn’t make sense.

That night, I get into my car and flip on the radio. “…who lost his arms, both of them, to landmines. But he still defuses them with his teeth.” It was NPR. I don’t know if the speaker was talking about a book, or a real person. It doesn’t matter. The point was made. I drove to Hollywood to see my friend Herschel in a play. In the parking garage, there were numerous traffic directors since it’s the site of the Oscars. Even though they are a week away, there are rehearsals and pre-event dinners and parties. Security is everywhere. I search for the correct route for a non-oscar-related-freaked-out-owner-of-cancer-cat. They didn’t have a sign for that. But a guard lazily pointed the way with a sweep of his right hand. Wait! Is he cold and has his left arm tucked in his shirt like I used to do on cold nights at football games in high school? No. That’s an empty shirtsleeve. His left arm is missing. It was not lost on me that he was pointing to the right. I wondered if it bothered him to be stationed on left-pointing duties. He seemed fine, if bored. Maybe Duncan would be fine, too.

Saturday proved to be nice relaxing day full of lots of rain. It rained as I have never seen it rain in California before. It stormed. All night, there was lightning and thunder, which is very unusual. They were storms of mid-west proportions! Around 12:30, I was awakened by gunfire. I had just convinced myself that it was the heater warming up when I heard it again. Nope, that’s gunfire. And it’s really close. Five shots. I froze waiting for the next sounds. Tires screeching? Police cars? Ambulance? Six minutes later, helicopter. For some reason, LA police like to respond with helicopters. Even to noise complaints. No sirens, no screams. I lay awake terrified, yet enjoying one last night snuggling with Duncan and his four paws. This last night ends with a bang. Lots of them. The human is going to need lots of anti-anxiety drugs if this continues.

Tonight, he must fast after 10:30. Which means I sleep in the external bonus room. He and Paxton like to eat several times a night and they just won’t take no for an answer. We found the best solution is to leave them in the house alone then whisk Duncan off to the vet first thing in the morning. Since this will be the third time in so many weeks, I’m sure he’ll know something’s about to happen. But he’ll have no idea how monumental. And his human freaks out.

The Cat Scan

I suppose there are not called cat scans anymore, but it is a scan of a cat. So, perhaps a more accurate term is a cat CT scan. Whatever you want to call it, Duncan had one today - Happy Valentines Day - at 10am. We're now at home, resting comfortable. Meaning Duncan is sitting in front of the heater. He's not quite ready to take a nap. He wants to make sure everything is still in it's right place. Anytime the cats go to the vet, they are convinced that all the stuff at home, the furniture, the cat toys, especially the food has shifted around in their absence.

So, the scan. It showed that the cancer, while HUGE is pretty superficial. And not spread. It's pretty contained. The trick will be to remove all the cancer without having to dig into the underlying muscle. What I didn’t understand before is that the muscle underlying the tumor holds the arm into the shoulder. So removing that is removing the arm per se. We're waiting to hear from the surgeon on that. And I'm waiting to hear from the holistic vet too.

The car ride wasn't quite as exciting today. I didn't have the energy to give the running commentary I did last time we drove to West LA for the biopsy. I think this is wearing me out more than Duncan. He is still fascinated with trucks, which makes the ride a bit more enjoyable for him. In his past 13 years, his car rides have been limited to a 3-mile ride to the vet. He cries the whole way there and part of the way back. But on these 45 - 80 minute car rides, he's been crying intermittently with bouts of truck watching. As he pops his head up on the passenger side window, I see other drivers smile at the site of a cute cat pressed against the glass in a silent meow. Duncan has always made us smile, and now he's bringing a smile to the generally unhappy drivers of the 405. Good kitty!

And the holistic vet JUST called to make an appointment for 6pm tomorrow night. All the information is coming in this week.

Holistic Vet info for the SF Valley

I finally got the holistic vet info for the SF valley today. You'd think being in LA they would be EVERYWHERE!!!! I hope to talk to these guys before we do any surgery.

This comes from a friend of a friend:


Megan Bamford (works from home in Sun Valley)
818-768-0954
She has a website too. Paper-work needs to be filled out first, than a phone consult than an appointment. She is super thorough and gentle and each appointment she makes is for an hour long so she gives you all the time you need. She lets the cats walk around the room and smell and get comfortable while you're talking with her so they get so relaxed. Daphne didn't even realize she was getting examined. She thought it was just a nice lady petting her and telling her how beautiful she was.

Dr. Bamford is really sweet and you can tell animals love her.

If your friend lets them know how urgent it is due to the cancer, I'm sure they'll see them as soon as possible.

www.redrowan.com

There is also Dr. Nancy Scanlan at Sherman Oaks Vet. 818-784-9977. She's
holistic and does acupuncture and Chinese Herbs. (It can be very crowded
and crazy there). When Jemima got her Cancer I worked with Dr. Scanlon and
via phone consults with me and Dr. Scanlon with a Doctor in upstate NY that
my friend recommended. She was really insightful. Her name is Dr. Michele
Yasson. Her number is (845) 658-3923 I credit her to helping give Jemima
more time with us. We actually got rid of the cancer!

Duncan's Histopathology report

Here's the nuts and bolts of the cancer report for you science buffs:

HISTORY: Masses noticed three weeks ago.

DESCRIPTION:
Sections of all tissue from both containers is similar. Multifocally
there is a small amount of benign appearing fat and of fibrous tissue.
Much of the tissue has fairly high cellularity. Multifocally there
are considerable numbers of scattered small lymphocytes in follicular
or nodular aggregates. Many of the cells are rounded to spindle to
stellate shaped cells that vary mildly to moderately in nuclear size.
Some of them contain variably-sized single or multiple round clear
well-defined lipid type vacuoles. Mitotic figures are fairly
difficult to find. Multifocally there is mild necrosis occupying
approximately 10-20% of the section area evaluated. Agents are not
found.

MICROSCOPIC FINDINGS: LIPOSARCOMA. INFLAMED. ALL TISSUE.

PROGNOSIS: Guarded.

COMMENTS:
Given the location and the scattered inflammatory cells, this may
represent a vaccine-associated sarcoma with liposarcomatous type
differentiation. This would be an unusual manifestation in my
experience but vaccine-associated sarcomas may develop multiple
different tissue types. If there has absolutely never been a
vaccination in the region, then the cause would be unknown. The
neoplasia appears consistent with intermediate grade neoplasia.

Duncan has liposarcoma

We found out yesterday that Duncan, out 13 year old cat, has liposarcoma. It's a cancer. Not that there is a good cancer, but this one is a bad cancer. It's in the fatty tissue. It's pretty aggressive. When the vet called yesterday, she mentioned that his best chances lie in a radical surgery, including amputation of the limb. Since Duncan's tumors are on his side, I wasn't sure which limb she was referring to. I've seen many a 3-legged cat in my day and they are all cute and seem to adapt to their tri-ped siuation well. But a 13 year old cat that might not live that long? I just picture Duncan giving me the eye-darts and trying to flip me off with his no-longer-there-south-paw.

I was so spun up about the whole thing, I went to a psychic who had healed a friend's cat. Desperate times call for desperate measures. As I walked in, Kimberley told me to shuffle the tarot deck. "Do you have a general question or a specific...oh, a specific. (correct!) OK, then just tell me your birthday and month...oh, wait you're a libra. (correct again!) OK, just tell me the day. Hmmm. You're in a relationship (yes) with a great guy (yes) he's an Earth sign (yes!)." And so it went, with Kimberly telling me all about myself and Duncan and my just sitting with my jaw on the floor. She also knew that Duncan is gray and white and that he's had 2 tests so far. I was impressed. But according to Kimberley, Duncan has 4 months, regardless of the course of treatment. As I left, she kept saying, "I hope I'm wrong." I hope she's wrong, too.

The idea that 4 months may be all that's left gave me a sinking feeling that I hadn't had before. When I first heard that Duncan MIGHT have cancer, that was a sinking feeling, but sinking as in letting yourself drop to the bottom of the deep end of the community swimming pool and watching all the jocks dive in (or belly flop.) But this sinking, the 4 months left sinking, this is like the Titanic, slowly sinking into icey waters and everything you know around you disappears and you break in half and fall to the bottom, as the band plays a jaunty tune.

I went home and told Russ after which we both hugged Duncan and cried. Now, Duncan is completely happy and feels great. Twice now, his parents have been hystercal all over him on a Monday night. He's probably confused. Maybe he thinks we're getting a divorce and it's all his fault. I don't think he understands he has a mass of flesh growing inside him at an alarming rate, uncontrolled.