So I have really struggled over whether to write this, and what to write.
On Friday, April 18, I noticed my kitty Oliver was shaking his head in an odd way. He’s had ear infections before as well as a strange incident a couple years ago when what seemed to be an infection caused one side of his face to lose articulation (vets were worrried briefly he’d lose sight in one eye until he completely, unexpectedly bounced all the way back), so my wife and I immediately made him a vet appointment for the following Wednesday. The shaking went away within an hour, but over the next few days he started to lose strength. By Sunday, he was having trouble getting in the littler box, and Tuesday night he peed orange right outside the box. We knew there was trouble.
We got him to the vet, and after a couple of hours they called us and told us he needed to be transferred to a hospital as his liver levels were plummeting. We hand-carried him to a local pet hospital and they admitted him right away. He was in the hospital until the next Monday, getting supportive care around the clock, blood transfusions, the works. They could determine that he had MASSIVE inflammation in his spleen, gall bladder, liver and digestive system, with fluid in his belly. Prognosis was grim, but he rapidly improved with treatment. We visited him every day in the hospital, and he seemed to be improving.
However, after we brought him home on that Monday he simply failed to thrive. He continued to lose energy and by the third day I had to bring water and treats to him on our bed, he wouldn’t really move or eat much. By Friday night we were in a panic, and rushed him back to the hospital late at night. We could tell the intake techs were worried, and then we got put in a room and a grave-faced doctor we’d never seen before told us that he was near death and likely wouldn’t have made it to the next day. He was unsure we could save him at all, let alone have him recover, but that cat has never given up on me, even when I was in a terrible place and couldn’t take care of myself, so we insisted on trying.
Well, it turned out that his liver levels were stable, but whatever was causing the inflammation had taxed his immune system so much that his red blood cells were perilously low. More blood transfusions, then finally steroids. We visited him every day again, and this time he did seem to get stronger, although I have never seen a living creature hooked up to so many tubes. Because he is the charming and loving boy that he is, the whole vet staff fell in love with him and would send us pictures and videos of him. The whole hospital was pulling for my little guy.
By Sunday, they were already cautiously talking about discharging him, but we were TERRIFIED, and it did NOT help that my wife and I were currently performing in a stage production of Charlotte’s Web (you know, that classic book about animal death????). Well, after much back and forth we did finally bring him home on Tuesday, May 6.
So I guess maybe I could have written this then. But honestly, I was too damn scared. He’s been back for two checkups since, and the infection is receding. He’s off all meds but a liver protectant and we are stepping down the steroids to wean him off. He’s eating, prancing, jumping, putting weight back on, basically being his fabulous queer self. The slowly-regrowing spots of shaved fur, including his whole belly, a side of his neck and all his legs, are a reminder of what he has been through. And I have never, ever felt such profound dread and despair and helplessness as I’ve felt in the past month. To tell Oliver’s whole story would mean getting deep with dark chapters in my life, but suffice to say that he appeared and chose me when I desperately needed him, and I swore an actual oath that I would be there for him and do everything in my power to keep him healthy and safe and loved for as long as that was possible. And yes: I had to flex massive resources to save him here, and some of the feedback I got was “you may need to let him go”. And I get that: he’s 13, he won’t be here forever. But dammit, he wasn’t ready to go! I could see him fighting to get home to us, and he is simply the most important individual in my life and my wife’s. We just love him so much. He was my baby first, but when my wife came on the scene they fell for each other and now we are a bonded threesome. Several times during the process, my wife gallantly tried to step back and let me be the “primary haver of feelings” in the crisis, but I kept reminding her that Ols loves her too and we are both equally invested and she deserves the same space that I do for loving him and worrying for him and caring for him.
Anyway, if I was a religious guy I’d say a miracle happened here. They did all the tests for Bad Things and more-or-less told us he probably had cancer, but thusfar every test has been resoundingly negative. Best they can tell after EXHAUSTIVE work is that . . . somehow . . . he contracted an absolutely raging infection that started to shut his whole body down. No one knows why. What we do know is that he would absolutely, undoubted be dead now without all the aggressive intervention and monitoring and emergency trips. And yet he he is literally standing and screaming for treats in the kitchen right now as I type this.
I’m just so grateful right now. Our time isn’t promised, but I have more with my best friend than I might have gotten. I was told over and over again how lucky Ols is to have humans who care so much about him and are willing (and able, gotta check my privilege here) to go to the mat for him to save his life. I owe a debt of gratitude to the staff of the pet hospital that I can never repay. They write me personal notes and put little hearts on his medicine bags, they joke that he is so loved there that they considered “misplacing” him so he could stay with them. It’s me who is the lucky one. I have a hard time making human connections and my wife and my cat are everything to me.
Ehh, long post, sorry.
Just please: hold your animal companions close. I almost lost my sweet buddy. I’m just so grateful we don’t have to say goodbye yet. I want to give him more years of comfort and love and his very best life.
Oliver Queen Cat, you have my whole heart.
Beautiful dogs. So sorry about Mongo.
