Cat Lady’s Diagnosis

Posted on January 9, 2021 by Pamela Knudsen

I couldn’t get the doctor’s words, “…you’ve got cancer” out of my head as I drove home from the appointment. After the doctor delivered the ominous news, I felt out-of-body, numb. “Okay…” I said without sheading a tear. I’d heard this diagnosis with three of my beloved cats, and each time, I cried.

Miss Bella

Topper

Lexington

But, I couldn’t cry for myself. I just sat there robotically asking questions about what to do next and treatment. I was relieved that finally, I had a diagnosis, a proposed treatment plan (depending on if the cancer had metastasized) and that I was in the hands of an experienced, compassionate cancer specialist with Hoag Hospital. I drove down Pacific Coat Highway, devoid of emotion, but my mind was anxiously active. I’d known that something was going haywire in my body, but, seriously, cancer? Despite the cancer-related symptoms, a ten-centimeter mass in my uterus, and an oncologist’s diagnosis, I could not believe in something so threatening. As I approached Crystal Cove, an uncontrollable sob shook me.

By the time I got home, the sobbing stopped, but the internal running commentary continued: Oh my God, I have cancer. What if it metastasized? How do I tell my parents? What if I get too sick to take care of Bobcat?

I would need chemotherapy and surgery. Thoughts raced over the things I’d have to do before my first chemo treatment: get a CAT scan, a biopsy, more blood work; tell my boss; take medical leave; file for disability—and what I had to do that afternoon—tell my parents and my friends who knew I had an appointment with an oncologist.

My mind stopped spinning when Bobcat jumped onto the sofa and cozied-up by my side. He looked up at me and began to purr. I leaned over and wrapped my arms around him, rested my chin on his head and took a deep breath. Bobcat grounded me. After a long cat hug, I sat up and announced to Bobcat, “I have cancer.” It was no longer a thought spinning in my head. I spoke the words, sending the diagnosis out into the universe, making it real. With the comfort of my cat came an acceptance of this new reality. I made my first move towards coping with it and picked up the phone.

My parents took the news with grace and strength, and so did my dear friends. Everyone went into supportive action offering help with anything I needed. By the end of that afternoon a “Help Cat Lady Kick Cancer” support team was created.

I tackled all those things I was so worried about with my team by my side, checking-up on me, cheering at the great news that the cancer did not spread, bringing meals, groceries, keeping the cottage tidy, and taking care of Bobcat when I was too weak to feed him and clean his litter box.

And with my loving feline companion by my side lending a comforting paw, I’m never alone.

Lexington’s Departure

Posted on December 15, 2019 by Pamela Knudsen

As I dipped a teabag into the mug of boiling water, I thought to myself, I need to check on Lexington. While holding my cup of tea, I walked into the bedroom and stood there dumbfounded for a moment. The bed was empty. Then I realize that my mind cleverly tricked itself into forgetting, for a few moments, that Lexington is no longer here; that his spirit was set free from his ailing body. It’s amazing what the mind can do to protect the grieving heart.

My little lion lost his battle with cancer the afternoon of December 10, 2019, and man, did he ever fight the battle, even up to the moment that Dr. Julie of Home Pet Euthanasia of Southern California arrived at the front gate. During the hours before Dr. Julie arrived, Lexington, stubbornly insisted on continuing his normal activities. He wobbled to the front door indicating that he wanted to go outside. “Anything you want, sweetie,” I told him as I opened the door. I picked him up and walked onto the grass and laid him down in the newly grown lemon clovers where he used to love to lounge. I lay next to him, with tears coming down my face, yet smiling to see him finding some joy despite his withered and sickly condition.

April 2019 Lexi and the Lemon Clovers

I brought him inside where he lay on the area rug in the living room, yet, after a few minutes, he got himself in a standing position and slowly walked to the front door, insisting, once again on going outside. I opened the front door and Lexington continued his wobbly walk down the walk way to the birdbath, me trailing behind him, ready to lend a hand. But on his own he sauntered on up to his favorite watering hole and took a few licks of water, just as Dr. Julie arrived at the front gate. I explained to her that despite his seemingly active behavior, he was ready. Over the past few days he’d become listless. The day before he’d lost all interest in food, except for some bites of baked chicken that evening of which his tummy rejected at 1:00 a.m. I was up most the night with him; it was very clear, his little body was shutting down. Dr. Julie explained it’s common with animals and humans that as we become aware of our impending death, our survival instincts, our will-to-live kicks in.

May 2019 Lex at the Watering Hole

I picked up Lexington and held him gently, yet tightly into my chest. We walked into the cottage, I placed him on the bed from where he would depart with me and Bobcat by his side.

December 8, 2019, two days before Lexi’s departure and I knew at that time it would be a matter of days.

It’s been not quite a week since Lexington’s departure. I’m not yet accustomed to his absence, which is profound right now, despite having Bobcat lovingly by my side. We were tight, me and Lex. We had a bond from the moment I met him at the adoption center back in March of 2006. I suspect I will not adapt to his absence anytime soon, but relief that he’s not suffering consoles me.

Little Lion, pictured with his favorite toys, Mr. Wormy and the tennis ball

In loving memory of Lexington, a.k.a Lex, Lexi, Big Lex, Little Lion and Prince Lexington

Thank you to my dear friends and family for your kind and loving support.

I couldn’t do this grieving thing without you…

More Good Days, Please

Posted on June 19, 2019 by Pamela Knudsen

Back in October, I noticed Lexington looking a little less brawny, and he didn’t seem his usual lively self. He was getting older and was in the beginning stage of renal failure, but I sensed something else was brewing and took him to the vet.

Blood work indicated inflammatory issues, and an ultrasound revealed a mass in his liver. My vet strongly suspected cancer. Getting a tissue biopsy would provide a definitive diagnosis, but would be too risky between Lexington’s weakened condition and age—about 16 years. Treatment options were limited. Steroids would reduce inflammation, but would cause serious, potentially fatal complications. I suggested cannabidiol “CBD” derived from the cannabis herb, known for its anti-inflammatory, immune boosting, pain killing, and appetite stimulant properties. My vet was not legally permitted to prescribe CBD, but he concurred with my suggested modality, asking to see Lexington for a follow-up visit in two months or sooner if his condition worsened.

I purchase at Coast Pet Supply and can be used on cats as well as dogs.

Within hours of giving Lexington CBD oil, his appetite came back, along with his sweet and playful personality. The two-month visit resulted in no changes—he was maintaining. And I maintained hope that what ailed him was something benign.

By mid-May, Lex’s appetite started to wane and he looked even thinner. He also had a hard time transitioning from standing to reclining. I took him back the vet. This time the diagnosis was definitive. A cancerous tumor had developed off of his liver. My vet advised that Lex had a few weeks to a couple of months to live, suspecting the cancer was aggressive. What a blow to my heart. I hated that my sweet Lexington was suffering. Besides that, he was old, but without this malignancy, Lexington would have been able to advance into his golden years. Instead, he was facing palliative care.

When we got home from the vet’s office, I gave Lexington a higher dose of CBD hoping to alleviate the increased discomfort he was experiencing. His appetite returned. Over the next few days, I observed that he still gingerly lowered himself to a reclining position, but his walk was more purposeful. He ventured off the bed and into the living room, and managed to hoist himself onto the sofa. He was feeling better. I don’t know how long the CBD will keep him going, but it’s clearly helping.

I had planned on attending a writer’s retreat in Palm Springs, which was scheduled three weeks from the day I learned about the tumor. I called the facilitator of the retreat to tell her I would not be able to attend. Rather, I took that week off from work and lavished Lexington with extra love. He got lots of “brushies” (he loves to be brushed), lots of porch time, and lots of time by my side while I wrote, read, listened to podcasts and sipped tea.

It’s been about a month since the diagnosis. Lexington and I will be on a roller coaster ride with the good days and the bad days that will lead to the last day. But for now, Lexington is doing pretty good. He just gobbled down his favorite dinner, baked chicken.