A few weeks after I wrote the first diary about GotMilk ("Milky" for short), I put him back with his brothers and half-sister. You would have thought that I had introduced a brand-new cat; there was hissing and avoidance and all the stuff that comes with adjustment to a new kitty. Fortunately, after a few days the hissing stopped, although Milky's brother Chester hissed at him intermittently for a couple of weeks.
I found another little lump on Milky's left paw, and it was diagnosed as a "mast cell tumor", which is more of a nuisance than anything else. These are normally benign; one of Milky's brothers, Ashes, had one removed from between his shoulder blades a couple of months ago and is doing fine. I decided (and the specialist recommended) that I take him to my "regular" vet because it was minor surgery.
So I took him to Foothill on the 27th of July to get the mast cell tumor removed from his left front paw, and mentioned to Dr. Howes that there was a lump on the site of the incision by his back leg. She checked it out and cancelled the surgery; she took a blood test and told me she thought the cancer was back. She called me back the next day and did confirm it.
I took him back to Dr. Mott on the 29th and she also checked out the lump and told me the same thing. She also mentioned radiation and chemo and I again refused to put him through anything like that, because she said they would only be "palliative". She did take some more blood and called me back to let me know the results were fine, and that I should bring him in again in a month.
All this was happening, and I was scheduled to go to China on the 19th of August. I was seriously thinking about cancelling, so I emailed our travel agent and he told me that all we would lose would be $300. After thinking about it I told Erica (my partner) that I was cancelling my part of the trip; she was going on business and I was just tagging along. I couldn't go to China and leave Milky. I can go to China any time; I didn't and still don't know how long I've got with him. I knew I would be absolutely miserable there wondering what was happening with him.
Fast forward to this past Sunday, the 28th of August.
I'd noticed that Milky wasn't flying or jumping as much, but he was still eating and using the litterbox and purring loudly enough that I could hear him over the television.
When I went up to feed them that night it was business as usual; Milky ate like he normally does, and I went to clean up a faint blood spot I'd seen on the floor. I found other blood drops and cleaned them up, but then I saw blood and fluid, as well as a clot, on the dresser where Milky normally hangs out. I cleaned that up (it was about a teaspoonful) and emailed Dr. Mott, who said to give him a pain med.
When I went in to give him the pain med, I couldn't find him, and figured he might be under the bed. He wasn't. He had actually jumped up on the counter in the bathroom and then JUMPED UP to the top of the medicine cabinet (about a foot from the ceiling) and was quite comfortable there. I gently brought him down and put him on the bed, and gave him his pain med. He jumped back up on the counter and started bleeding again from the original incision site; this time it wasn't stopping.
I wound up taking him to Pasadena Veterinary Specialists Emergency, where he spent the night. The doctor on duty was so wonderful.
I took Milky in on Monday, the 29th, at 1 p.m., to see Dr. Mott and discuss the tests they'd run the previous night. I was so afraid that I would have to put him down that I couldn't concentrate.
When we got there (Erica was just back from China and was working from home, and decided to go with me), they brought him in and he seemed to be fine. Dr. Mott then came in and said they'd put a stitch in the incision to close it up, and that his bloodwork still looked pretty good. What a relief. She gave me some Prednisone to give him to build up his blood.
I took him in today for another blood test, to see if the Prednisone is working. I also got some pain medication which I am giving him twice a day.
He is still eating like a horse and purring up a storm.
I keep thinking about Sunday, when he jumped up on the medicine cabinet. I know he will never do it again, and also know that that was probably his "last hurrah", just to show that he could still do it if he wanted.
As always, just one step at a time.