It’s been one hell of a week.

Milo stopped eating early in the week. My oldest took him back to the vet on Tuesday, who said that he’s lost two pounds these past few weeks and that he needed to go to a specialist for a cat scan (haha) ASAP. She also said that it would take several weeks to get an appointment.

I called around early Wednesday and the soonest he can be seen is November 9th. I knew he wouldn’t live until then. I messaged my cat sitter, who works at the vet I used to work at, to see if she had any ideas. She made arrangements for us to bring Milo to that clinic to see if there’s anything they could do.

By this time he was refusing all food. But acting hungry, which was heartbreaking.

The doctor said that the specialist could take him and would put him on iv fluids and maybe a stomach tube put in. No one can do a cat scan until next week, so he would just be hospitalized, hopefully getting stronger in case he needs surgery. It would be $4,000-6,000.

I was going to take him after getting off work, but none of it felt right. Sunshine went into the hospital and never came home-and so did Chloe. I didn’t want to spend that amount of money with so many unknowns.

I called the clinic back and told them that we would like to take care of him from home while we wait to hopefully get a sooner appointment for a scan to see what’s going on. They prescribed him steroids that would hopefully calm whatever is going on in his nose down, and stimulate his appetite.

That was Thursday and I’m so happy to report that Milo is doing much better and he is eating very well.

Fast forward to Friday evening. I am exhausted. I’ve woken up around the 4am hour for 3 days this week and wasn’t able to get back to sleep. Milo is heavily on my mind, and I’m preparing myself in case he doesn’t pull through. It’s a busy weekend. I have an 8am dentist appointment on Saturday, youngest is having a small birthday get together, so we had to clean and get a cake/snacks, have a few hours of work to do and a retirement party on Sunday.

But, I’m feeling pretty good because it’s the weekend and I actually took Jules for a walk after work, our first in a few weeks because I’ve been so painful.

So, I’m relaxing, with my feet on my earthing pad and talking to Hubby about whether we should order or make dinner.

Zoe walks in and I pet her only to discover a big lump on her back. “Oh, it’s okay!” my boys say. “It’s just a mat of fur, we couldn’t get it out.” (they sometimes brush her mats out). The lump I felt definitely felt ominous.

I felt again, and felt matted fur. I shifted it, and in doing so, my fingers got wet with extremely stinky liquid. I knew immediately that it was an abscess 😢

It must’ve annoyed her, because she was in a sad state afterwards, running as if she were trying to run from the wound.

Since it was 6pm on a Friday, her regular vet couldn’t see her. I took her to the local emergency, which is like a mile away, and called from the parking lot.

“Sorry, we can’t see your cat.” She then explained that they are at capacity with ill pets and currently a 6-8 hour wait to get in.

Never, ever have I felt such desperation. I called the next nearest one, who luckily could see her, with only a 2-3 hour wait.

We were there the full 3 hours. Now she has a shaved back and the wound looks like ground beef it is so disgusting. I’m not getting bothered by it though, I’m used to these abscesses now. The vet said she thinks she will heal up just fine, but it’s been there for awhile. I SO hope it heals, unlike the last time when her fever kept getting higher and finally they just had to open her up and clean out the big old wound from her chest into her armpit. She came home with a drain tube then, but she healed good.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come with my mentality, because I’ve spent probably over 90% of my moments feeling grateful this week, despite the hardships.

When I got to the emergency clinic, it didn’t take long for the technician to put us in a room. I was feeling optimistic, but defeated. When we got settled, the tech says, “Hey weren’t you my old babysitter?” I thought it was probably a mistake because I only really had one (consistent) babysitting job.

I looked up to see a grown up version of a little girl I used to know. We hugged and caught up. She was the oldest child of the family that I used to babysit often. It was sooooooo nice at that moment to see a friendly and familiar face– and I felt grateful.

We had to give Zoe her antibiotic last night, and since we didn’t get home till well after 10, we didn’t give it until after midnight.

It’s 1am on a Saturday night and hubby and I are on the floor trying to coax this cat to let me medicate her. Milo comes walking through, doing his loud breathing/wheezing (it’s not constant).

We looked at each other and just started laughing at our predicament. I was so grateful for him, and his attitude. While I was at the clinic, he brought me dinner and sat with me for the last hour. He mentioned that he was glad we got her in that night, even though it would probably cost twice as much and that it was worth it. I was so grateful for him then too, and grateful that he wasn’t more like my dad was when I was growing up. He did not like my mom to spend money on the pets!

Now it’s Saturday, and things are going remarkably well.

I’ve gotten both Zoe and Milo to take their meds with baby food 👏👏👏

Milo’s breathing is noticeably more quiet, he seems to be feeling well and is pigging out. Zoe is acting okay too, and I’m just so glad she ate her meds.

AND… guess what!! I’m on day 3 of NO Motrin, Tylenol or any NSAID. I’ve been trying to get off motrin for like a year so this is HUGE.

I started Nettle Leaf a couple weeks back and wondering if that’s making a big difference for me. Either way, I am ecstatic!

I can see a huge difference of the effects of these life stressors. I was pretty spiritually healthy the last time Zoe had an abscess, but gosh, I was so worried and frantic. It’s different now. Am I worried? A little bit- I want her to heal, but I’m certainly not preoccupied with fearful thoughts that she won’t. That’s probably something that I never could have said before.

Maybe I’m becoming comfortable with death, and in doing so can finally live my life feeling free.

Day #1305

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