A Month Later ...

Wow, I can't believe it has been over a month since I posted.

Mona is doing well. She finished her weekly rounds of chemo several weeks ago and has been taking oral meds since then. It is very odd regimen ... 1 pill on every Monday and 7 other pills every other Wednesday. Lymph nodes are fine thus far. She goes back for her first round of monthly chemo this Tuesday.

Behavior wise, she's acting very normal. She occasionally has some issues with vomiting which I treat with pepcid per Dr. Rogers' orders. Usually, it happens at 3 AM, of course. :-) Her appetite is a bit down, but she tears into her Kongs with complete abandon so I've been sneaking extra protein and fat in that way. Her favorite is roast beef and cream cheese.

Yesterday, I must have made the cream cheese plug a bit thicker than normal. She licked away at it for a few minutes, then began to pick up the Kong and drop it repeatedly to get the stuffing out. Only the plug was still there. The expression on her face when she realized nothing was dropping out was priceless. Still, she finished it off in an hour.

Yesterday morning I began to cry as we lay in bed. I convinced myself that the vomiting meant she was going to die very soon and got very worked up. This is probably due to our recent sad news that breast cancer is back in one of our kitties, Tabby. Tabby is a 15 year old tiger striped girl who just wants to curl up in the linen closet and have a snooze. She had a lumpectomy last year, but it appears that this bout would require such extensive surgery that we can't put her through it. Her recovery last time was long and she was distraught at being left alone at the vet over night. It hasn't impact her quality of life yet. She's still meowing, eating and asking for petting. No sign that it has impacted her breathing yet.

Still, it is only a matter of time. We'll learn this week how extensive the tumors have become so we may have a better idea of how many weeks we have left with her. I really like sweet little Tabby and it certainly resonates with my struggle to keep Mona healthy so I am very sad. Hence, the crying. I lay in bed thinking back to all of the animals that have either died or been put to sleep and it was like the collective anguish of each of those experiences just washed over me. I was distraught.

Mona came to comfort me and I pulled myself together, realizing that all I can do is appreciate the moments we have left. She's been a trooper these past few weeks -- they all have, even Tabby -- as we've had the bathroom renovated and lots of other invasions of their space. Mona is fast friends with the workmen and even handles the noise well. I'm going on vacation in two weeks and I've promised myself that I am going to take her for a ride or a walk in the park every single day. She loves to go places. Almost as much as roast beef and cream cheese.

The worst part is the waiting. I feel her neck every day, many times. I monitor her breathing. I anguish about the inevitable time when the cancer returns and begins to impact her quality of life -- will I recognize when the time has come? And how will I get through it? When I put Jack to sleep, I knew he was sick and unhappy even if I didn't know what was wrong. But I relive that last day over and over in my heart which breaks a little more each time. Sometimes I'll go months without thinking about it, but Mona and Tabby have reminded me even though the situation is different.

Sometimes I think about getting another dog and immediately the guilt washes over me. I can't replace Mona, I think. But I can fill her space with another woofer who needs a home. I don't know. Sometimes that's comforting to me.

Right now, I'm just crying so hard over something that hasn't happened. Mona is upstairs sleeping with Ledcat ... she loves when there's only one person in the bed so she can have a pillow. She'll be happy today because we'll be home for most of it. That has to be enough.