Bob Dole

I'm drained-emotionally, physically and financially. We just got home at 8pm, after leaving for New York at 1pm. It's been a really long day and everything aches. I think my head is going to crack in half.

I'll quit complaining and get back to the important stuff: Bob.

Today we travelled to Wappingers Falls, NY to meet Dr. I., the Board Certified Oncologist. I was expecting just a consultation and that it would cost about $165.00. He'd look over the blood test results and the biopsy report. He'd talk about next steps and he'd sketch out the costs and we'd schedule some treatment or he'd say Bob cannot be treated for whatever reason.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Nice office and staff, but I KNEW this was gonna cost just by looking at the signage!

But nothing went according to plan.

Bob has many complications: 1. He is FIV+, 2. He's a Senior, 3. He has an upper respiratory infection, 4. He has the remnants of a fungal infection on his head (which MUST be GONE or no chemo). 5. Bob has lost almost two pounds now, since September. He used to be a robust 14-15 pound cat. Now he's just a slip over 13 pounds. He's GOT to stabilize his weight. He's GOT to get rid of this damn URI that he's had for 11 days.

So the Dr. suggests taking x-rays. They have a digital x-ray machine. Very awesome and of course, expensive. I feel a tug at my purse strings, but I let it go. Then he wants to repeat Bob's month old blood work in their own lab AND send another full CBC out to another lab! No! They can wait a day and get the full CBC and not charge me twice for doing the same bloodwork for the most part! Sheesh. I saved $89.00. Oh wait...then he said that the pathology, though done well, should be looked at again by another specialist. He felt that we could get MUCH more information from this other person and we'd get more of an idea of this is “large cell” or “small cell” lymphoma. [we're hoping for small cell]. The problem is that it takes TWO WEEKS to get results and in the meantime, Bob is losing weight and the cancer will have two more weeks to misbehave. Oh, and he will have a radiologist/internist look at Bob's x-rays (ka-ching). I started to guess how much this was going to cost. I thought $850.00. WRONG! $1200+.! I tried not to panic. This is on top of the $5000.00 I already had to “find” to cover Bob's surgery and tests before the surgery. It's probably more than that, but I really don't want to know right now...And the first person who rakes me over the coals for spending this money is going to be kicked in the teeth. For one thing, this didn't come to me as a bill for $5000+. It started with a few x-rays. Then it was an ultrasound. Then it was blood tests. Then, a surgery, etc...Would I have done this differently if I knew up front what this would cost?

NO I WOULD NOT. I've got Bob's back. I'm not going to just toss him aside for MONEY!!! He's a living, breathing creature. He gives me his love and asks for nothing back. He does not deserve to be left to die slowly or be euthanized because of cash. I find that repulsive! Would you cut care to your MOM? Your kid? A stranger, even? A person you passed on the street? You wouldn't deny anyone who had a fair chance to recover and live comfortably, a chance to do so. [stepping off soapbox now]

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Not sure if he wants to get out of his cat carrier, after all

I tried to decide if we could get away with not doing what he suggested, but it DID make sense. We needed to compare his bloodwork and x-rays to what we had before his surgery, so I said yes. They took Bob away and asked us to go get a coffee and come back in a hour.

We went to the front desk, of course, because we have to pay 75% of the bill right NOW, before they do a thing. God forbid they wait an hour to get paid in full. So I whip out my good old Care Credit card and they say "they can't access our limit information" so we have to call them. We call them and they say there is something wrong, but won't say what it IS! So we're standing there trying to think of how to come up with the money when we weren't prepared to blow a huge hunk of cash. I did not want to use the old, beaten AmEx, but I had no other choice. Fortunately, it worked fine and they smiled and said thank you and I grumbled under my breath, freaking out about CareCredit's rejection. I was so embarrassed and I had NO IDEA WHY there was a problem. I KNOW we have plenty of room on that card and we pay the bill on time. Sam tried to comfort me by offering to deal with them-which I gratefully accepted.

I'd noticed a Panera Bread cafe on the way to the Vet, so we drove over there to kill some time. We were both ashen, miserable, and glum (which could be a good name for a law firm) as we sat with our caffeine (mine a tea, of course, Sam's a coffee, of course). I said it was a pretty day, with sparkling blue skies. That we were lucky to enjoy a nice day. We were together, neither of US had lymphoma (which without health insurance, I'm guessing we'd have to just crawl into a hole and die). I tried to get Sam to look on the bright side, but I couldn't convince myself-how could I convince him?

We've had the WORST few years of our lives. Work is just not happening and the work we DO get, well the clients just can't pay very fast. I'm on month three of waiting on an invoice for one project. We keep thinking, as so many people do, it's GOT to change for the BETTER SOON. I can't remember a time when the economy was so awful for SO LONG. It makes us feel terrified and desperate. We're trying to smile through the fear. Trying to enjoy our life day to day, but it's getting tougher and tougher. I said we should just kill ourselves and be done with it, but Sam reminded me...who would care for our cats? What about Bob?

I couldn't argue with that.

So we picked ourselves up and went back to the Vet. Dr. I is very good at telling people bad news. He must have a lot of practice. He motioned for us to come over to his computer screen. There was the x-ray of Bob's chest, from the side (lateral view, if you want to be fancy). Dr. I remarked at how GOOD Bob's lungs looked. There was NO apparent cancer and NO apparent disease. He didn't say “BUT,” though I KNEW it was coming.

What concerned him was...then he zoomed in on an area between Bob's 3rd and 4th ribs...it was a small mass. I could not TELL it was a mass. It didn't look significant at all. Dr. I said that Bob's liver cancer, they type of liver cancer, does not normally EVER spread. Once it's removed, it's gone, so he would not expect that mass to be "that" type of cancer.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob is not so happy to hear the news that he has another cancerous mass. This one in his chest.

If it WAS lymphoma, Bob has lymphoma based in his abdomen. Usually if it's in the abdomen it STAYS there and it's easy to treat and it often is a “small cell” cancer. Seeing a mass in his chest could mean it's NOT small cell and it needs to be treated right NOW.

Dr. I felt that we needed to change things around. We'd start Bob on chemo tonight, treat his URI with antibiotics and antihistamine, re-check x-ray (ka-ching) in a week and see if we're getting rid of that chest mass and if Bob is starting to gain some weight. They we may continue on the chemo, weekly (so a 100 mile trip each week), for about six weeks, BUT we may have to change course and use something else depending on what the new pathologist finds out.

I wasn't pressured at all. Dr. I. knows his stuff. Lymphoma is very common in cats and dogs. He treats it ALL the time. He loves giving chemo to cats. He says they do great on it. I realized, though, that he barely even looked at Bob. He just went by the x-rays and test results. He was very precise and informative. He told me the bad news and I didn't cry until after I left his office.

They asked us to get lost for another hour and a half while they gave Bob the shot and kept him under observation. We drove around and found a bookstore and a cutely named coffee shop. We broke our cardinal rule and had a small meal at McDonalds, which I think may have been the first time in 16 years we ate at one. We were too tired and too broke to care about where we ate. We sat in a booth. There was a flat screen tv and a fireplace in this McDonalds. The audio for the TV was playing out of two different speakers, slightly off sync so it sounded like we were really really stoned and listening to the news. It was loud, too. We both were irritated and uncomfortable. We looked at the food we ate and made faces at each other. This was setting up to be a really awful day. I could not stop thinking about Bob. I just wanted to go HOME. I wanted to be home so I could hold Bob and CRY, but I was sitting in a weird McDonalds with out-of- phase speakers and a prehistoric guy in a plaid shirt sitting nearby watching the TV in rapt silence, as though everything always sounded just like that awful TV and everything was completely NORMAL when it was FAR from it.

We got out of there as soon as we stopped chewing. We returned to the Vet and paid the remaining 25% of the bill, got the discharge instructions and waited for Bob. One of the Vet Techs brought Bob out. I opened the top on the carrier and he sat up. I petted him and he purred, his Bob-purr. He was still Bob. He wasn't glowing or limp. Like, me, he just wanted to go home.

I loaded him in to the back seat, then took the seat next to him. Sam started the car and drove us toward home. I opened the door to the cat carrier. It was dark, too dark to see into the cage, but I put my hand inside it and felt Bob's silky head. I petted him alongside his face and felt his ear. It was cool. I petted him a bit more and I could feel his purr through my hand. It was a comforting feeling, pretty much the only one I'd had all day.

Considering what's on his plate, having half a liver, lymphoma and a URI, Bob's doing well. He's no longer confined to a pen and last week he got his staples removed. A soft, downy fuzz is already growing on his belly. With winter here, I hate that his belly is so bare. I have heated cat beds for him to rest on all over the living room to keep him warm. Through all of the discomfort and pain I've put him through, it's tough to ask him to bear more. My goal is to keep him as content as possible.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Dr. Weisman removes the staples. YIKES!

I'm so proud of Bob. I wish I could tell him that. I'm proud of him being a good sport about riding in the car for the long trip to the surgeon and I'm so amazed that he's been climbing two flights of stairs to come to bed at night. This morning he was ON the bed, which is a tough climb for him, yet somehow he did it. He even picks on Petunia-STILL...which for now, I'll let him be a bad boy since he only scares Petunia and that's about it. It's a sign of him being normal and I know that won't last forever.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob just LOVES riding in the car. Okay, maybe not so much.

Tomorrow afternoon I'm driving Bob to Wappingers Falls, NY to meet Dr Impellizeri, a Board Certified Oncologist. There we will discuss treatment options for Bob. Are there any? I've been lead to believe there are, they are well tolerated by cats and that if Bob does well we can, at least, hope for a remission for some duration.

In a way, I can't wait to get Bob on chemo. I truly believe it will help him. Although he's eating and resting a lot, he's still losing weight and I know every day we wait, the cancer has more time to grow. I want to kick that stuff in the ass and make it leave my boy alone!

As with this entire journey, there are lots more unknowns ahead. I find myself deeply appreciating every little thing, being so gentle with Bob and so loving to him. I want every day to be as good for him as I can. I know I'll have to say good bye to him one day and it could be soon or we may get six weeks or six months.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Nora (left) and Bob (right) enjoy nap time. By the way, Nora weighs 23 pounds so Bob isn't a tiny cat!

We'll see. In the meantime, Bob will go on, not knowing what's wrong with him and probably not too worried about it, either. How does an animal feel as it ages? Do they know their time is drawing to a close? For some reason, I don't think they fear that at all. I think they just take it day by day and if they live, that's great and if not, then that's okay, too.

Maybe they're more evolved than we are about such things?

Bob's been home for almost a week since he had surgery to remove the right lobe of his liver. We found out it was cancerous, but now removed, it could be considered to no longer be a threat to his health. Of course many of you know, they also biopsied one of his mesenteric lymph nodes, where they found he had lymphoma. As in humans, the amount and severity of cancer is rated. In humans, they call it “stages,” and in cats, it's called “grades.” Bob's cancer is “low grade,” which means we may have caught it very early on in the game. Dr. Weisman said it could be a blessing in disguise because if she hadn't done the surgery, the lymphoma would have grown unchecked until it was probably too late.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob a few days after surgery.

At least Bob has options and I'm glad I didn't wait another month to see how homeopathy would work for him. He just would have gotten sicker.

There are two great candidates to help Bob with the next phase of treatments. It's ironic that they are almost exactly the same distance from here-about 50 miles. Dr. Post was referred to me by Dr Weisman and the other, Dr. Impellizeri, who runs the Vet. Speciality Center of the Hudson Valley was glowingly referred to me by Dr. Larry as well as Super Deb-who used to WORK for this Vet. I have appointments with both Vets, but am leaning towards Dr. Impellizeri.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Enjoying freedom from his pen and a nap near my space heater.

I'm really grateful to live in a place where I have choices and don't have to drive Bob hundreds of miles for treatment. It's important to me to be careful about what Bob must endure and the value of the stress on him versus the beneficial results. I find myself treating him as gently and lovingly as I can. He feels like he's made of glass.

It's been a long week, but Bob continues to recover. He's eating well and some times looks perky, though he is tired and sleeps a lot. He loves his heated bed and his dehydrated chicken treats. His belly turned black and blue from the surgery, but that is starting to fade. Tomorrow we visit Dr. Weisman to have his staples removed.

What is very frustrating is that Bob caught Nora's upper respiratory infection. I gave Bob some homeopathic treatments and he seems less afflicted. I certainly hope that this is the case. The last thing Bob needs is to be sick with something else.

Last night, I let Bob out of his pen. He was glad to be free from confinement and went right back into his old routine. He sits quietly, in “his spot” and waits for meals to be served. He sleeps in his favorite places, too. He gave me a real thrill by climbing the stairs to our bedroom, then not only did he sleep in a cat bed next to my side of the bed, in the middle of the night he climbed into the "human" bed and slept with us all night. At one point I got up to see if he was on the floor and was surprised to see him flanked by Spencer and Blitzen at my feet. I didn't want to go back to sleep. I wanted to just watch him and have the joy last of seeing Bob surrounded by his family, resting comfortably, maybe even happy.

He's a good boy, that Bob.

Dr. Weisman called. Biopsy results are back already. The mass she removed was a type of cancer, but with it gone, goes any worry about that type of cancer coming back. It's nice news, but...

Sadly, the biopsy of Bob's lymph nodes shows that Bob has Lymphoma. I guess it's common in cats that are FIV+. How I hate my Mother for not getting him neutered when she could have. This never would have happened. Now I have to face taking Bob to an oncologist and chemotherapy. Lymphoma, I am told, has an 80% remission rate. It might give Bob a year or two, or...well, we don't know.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob under the half built Christmas tree. He can't wait to celebrate what may be his last holiday with us.

Merry Christmas...my heart is broken.

Author's note: Bob has a few nicknames-one I use most often is: Baba-D. Some others are: Bobbee Tinkleberry, Mr. Bob and Robert J. Dole (only used if I'm yelling at him)

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Barely 24 hours ago, I got a call from one of the Vets at VCA Cheshire. He said something I didn't expect to hear: “Bob's ready to go home. He's eating a bit and has perked up. If you can get here before, say 3pm, we won't charge you for an extra day.”

All I could muster in reply was; “You're shitting me.”

Oops.

I was told that shortly after Sam and I left yesterday, Bob perked up. He ate a little bit, he sat up in his cage. Dr Weisman, who I LOVE, said she felt the pain meds were really taking a toll on Bob, so she eased off on them. Sure enough, the minute it started to wear off, our old Bob started to make a comeback.

Of course I had a Vet appointment for Polly, who is, getting SICK again. I had to postpone it to today. I basically had to postpone everything to get ready for Bob to arrive. Since Bob's belly is in a fragile state of repair, we have to give him either cage rest or put him in a small room with no furniture. Since we don't have a room like that, I set up a BIG dog crate, then went out and bought a dog pen to attach to the crate. It would give Bob some chance to walk around a bit. I didn't want to put it in a dark part of the house or off in a corner, so Bob's in the middle of the living room. I want him to have sunshine and to be part of our daily activity so he can feel like he's part of the gang again.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob's new digs.

Sam and I got things set up and I realized I needed a few things so I left early to hit a pet store that was on the way to the hospital, which is a 45 minute drive from here. Of course, I took the wrong exit and the store is in the middle of Waterbury, where the roads are like a messy plate of spaghetti. I panicked and decided to skip the store and not risk getting lost. I did NOT want to be late. The Vet bill was over $3000.00 and I didn't want it to go any higher if I could help it.

I hit a grocery store and got a new litter pan and the litter my Vet wants to use. I bought a few groceries and ignored the bell ringer from Salvation Army. I wanted to go up to him and tell him how much money I give to animal charities and how I run my own. I ask myself why I feel so guilty about not putting money in his bin when I donate clothing and household goods to them every year. Maybe that's how they score? The guilt factor?

Guilty or not, I was racing to get to Bob on time. It was 2:30pm and there was some sort of nightmare traffic jam, from what, I could not figure out. So I crawled along, finally getting to the hospital in the nick of time. I grabbed my empty cat carrier, walked in the door and almost yelled, “Filler Up!”

Oh yes, but there is a matter of the rest of the payment to deal with first. They were very nice, very professional. They went over Bob's discharge information, which isn't really much, other than to watch Bob and check his incision. He doesn't need extra meds. He can go back on Denamarin and Dasquin and eat what he likes (so THEY say!). He is supposed to wear a “cone of shame”, e-collar but he hasn't picked at his belly at all so no go for now. He's been through enough.

I spoke with Dr. Weisman, who I LOVE (yes, i know I wrote that earlier and it's still true). She told me what to watch out for and to either call her or just email her to let me know how Bob is doing or just to say hello. You're KIDDING ME, right? Woah. I love her. She's not tossing me to the wind now that the surgery is over!

While we were talking, I realized someone was standing next to me. It was a tech holding BOB!!!! I grabbed his carrier and she placed him inside it. He looked perkier, even at a glance. I couldn't wait to get him HOME!

I got the bill settled. It was actually a bit less than the low end of the estimate. The amount still kills me and it will be a year before it's paid off, but I can get it done. It was time to head home with my BOB!

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob, at home, at last. By the way, we moved his litter pan out of this crate, into the penned in area after this photo was taken so Bob has more space to relax and not smell his own fumes.

I wanted to let Bob out so he could walk around a bit, when we got home. I thought he might like to use his familiar litter pan, then I'd put him into his crate. Instead, Bob almost RAN around the house, then got away from us and RAN up TWO flights of STAIRS! Oh NO! he's gonna blow himself wide open! Thankfully we got him and put him into the crate. Sheesh!

We warmed up some raw food and offered it to him. He licked once or twice, then went to his heated bed and laid down. He was exhausted. I offered him some chicken treats, which he ate, but then turned away from me. He licked his paws and his face, a great sign. He got comfortable and went to sleep.

Sam and I sat in the living room, talking quietly. I sat facing Bob so I could keep an eye on him. He groomed himself some more, but stayed clear of his belly. He put his head down, then twisted it at a cute angle, as he so often does, and went to sleep. I was worried that he didn't eat, but hoped he'd eat a bit later.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob loves his blanket from Aunt Jennifer.

As the evening passed, I got into the penned in area and sat with Bob. I offered him dehydrated chicken and he ate every piece. He wouldn't eat any real food, but it was a start. We said good night and let him rest. I didn't sleep well. I worried about what I might find this morning. I got up at 6:15am and went downstairs to check on Bob.

I walked over to his crate and said, hello. He got right up and came over to me, purring loudly! I hustled into the kitchen and got him some grain-free canned food. I warmed it slightly and put dry chicken treat on top. He lapped at it hungrily! I was SO GLAD to see him eat! He didn't eat as much as I'd like to see, but he probably ate about 1/4 of a can of food, purring the whole time.

Of course, the problem with feeding Bob is ALL the other cats, including MacGruber, circled the pen and reached into it trying to get at Bob's food. I had to put Mac and Blitzen into the bathroom they were so bad! We've found Blitzen in Bob's pen a few times, now, so we can't leave food in there or Blitz will snarf it. Pig!

Of course, Bob doesn't seem to pay any heed to these interruptions. He just licks at his food and purrs, just as Bob did before, like any other day, but this isn't any other day. Bob just survived a very serious surgery and he's HOME. HE'S HOME! HE'S HOME!

WARNING: THERE'S A GRAPHIC PHOTO OF BOB'S STAPLED UP BELLY AT THE END OF THIS POST.

Bob made it through the first night after the major surgery to remove the right lobe of his liver. It had a 5cm mass on it and it needed to go. Fortunately, Dr. Weisman was able to remove the entire mass, but because the rest of Bob's liver didn't look so great, she had to biopsy a small part of that, as well. She also biopsied some lymph nodes. The pathology will take FIVE DAYS. This means that with the holdiay upon us, I'm guessing I won't know a thing until next week. For now, the goal is to get Bob to perk up, start eating and use his litter pan.

This morning I was told that Bob was not eating. He's on pretty serious pain meds right now and between that and the operation, he must feel like Hell. I offered to come see him and try to get him to eat, since I know all his favorite treats. I figured, if nothing else, I had the dreaded dry food to give him if he wouldn't eat anything good.

I couldn't get up there fast enough, but I admit to being one of the many people who stayed up late the night before to (attempt to) see the Eclipse. It was too cloudy here and though I hoped the stupid clouds would move out of the stupid way, they did not. I watched some of the “show” online, but it felt phony and awful. I went to bed and got a few hours of sleep, but felt hungover when it was time to get up.

Sam wanted to see Bob, too, so we ditched whatever plans we had and grabbed some raw food and treats for Bob. We stopped at the store and I bought a small container of chicken liver. Gross, but yes, Bob LOVES it. I don't give him much of it, but I had to arm myself with everything I could, in case he would eat for me.

We got to VCA Cheshire in the early afternoon. They told us they weren't busy and to come over. Just as we got there a family got ahead of us. They were there to see their dog, so we had to sit and wait for them to stop visiting with the dog so we could see Bob. My blood started to boil. Why they couldn't put Bob in an exam room was beyond me.

The minutes ticked by. After 30 minutes I was about to spit fire. Then, out of nowhere, was Dr. Weisman. She came over and explained what was going on, that it was very busy in the back and that they were going to put us in a room with Bob. At last! As we stood up to walk to the room, I saw through a window in the door to the hall. A tech was holding BOB in her arms!!!!

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Oh, Bob!

I asked for a towel for him so he wouldn't have to sit on the cold steel exam table and she brought out two. Bob seemed like Bob. He didn't look near death's door, but he wasn't very perky, either. We gave him pets and kisses. He started to purr faintly.

Bob has the best purr. I have an audio recording of it that I must figure out how to share one day.

Bob was clearly in pain. He didn't move much and his head was almost always down on his paws. He was wiped out. What did I have done to my boy?

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Get some rest, my sweet boy.

We began putting different food combinations together. We brought out all his treats. He ate nothing. He was fine if I rubbed something against his mouth. He even licked at it a bit, but we thought he throat was hurting from being intubated, along with everything else. He wouldn't eat raw, or dried chicken treats or dried salmon treats. I opened the container of chicken livers. I had no way to chop them up so I washed my hands and just ripped up little bits. I put them right under his nose and he licked a few off my fingers. It wasn't much, but it was something. I tried over and over again, to encourage him to eat something more, but he refused.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. We will be strong for you, Bob and keep those prayers and good wishes comin'!

I didn't want to push him too hard, so I let it be. I washed his face and he purred for me. We pet him and talked to him, told him to get better. I wanted to see his belly, but I didn't want him to exert himself by having to stand up or roll over. I wanted to sit on the floor and hold Bob on my lap until he felt better again.

I ran into the Doctor again. We talked about Bob. She wasn't too worried about him not eating. He's on an IV, so that's good. Her concern is she wants to see Bob perk back up. Have some twinkle in his eyes again, then he can come home-even if he's not eating. That surprised me, but she knows best. Instead of coming home today, our next hope is that he will come home tomorrow NIGHT, at the earliest. She said if we had been through what he had, we would be in tremendous pain and not want to eat, either. On a good note, Bob DID use his litter pan and had a good pee. He wouldn't use their tiny pan, but when they gave him a big one, he went for it and made a big mess, splashing the litter all around! How unlike Bob to make a fussy mess! Maybe he still has some “Bob” left in him?

The tech came to get Bob and I gave him another kiss. She lifted him in her arms and that's when I saw it...his belly. My heart sank. I knew the incision was going to be long, but I wasn't prepared for what I saw. My Bob looked like franken-kitty!

I could only think about how badly that incision must HURT and on top of that, what's going on inside his body right now? My poor, sweet boy. I am so sorry I had this done to you, but I know it was your only chance of getting better. To know I made my cat suffer so much...well, it's a very uncomfortable feeling. If I think about it too long, I'll start to beat myself up. I made this choice for him-his one chance. Now he has to heal and show us he can make it and I will do everything I can to help him get there.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Franken-Bob. :-(

All I know is, Bob has survived the surgery, now he has to survive the recovery.

I love you, Bob. I hope you can come home, soon.

During the course of your life, you probably don't often know ahead of time that a particular day will hold any meaning. Then, something occurs that marks that day forever. It could be a surprise marriage proposal or the sudden passing of a dear friend. You didn't expect either one and now each year, on that day, you'll think about those events all over again.

August 16, 2006 was the day after my Mother died and the day I took her cat, Bob Dole, home with me. I didn't intend on keeping him. I had six cats at the time and felt that was my limit. I had plenty of family members with just one cat or none, who could have taken him, but no one stepped forward. As Bob's many medical issues came to light, I realized I wouldn't feel comfortable with him living anywhere but with me. Who would care that his teeth were bad or that he had become diabetic? And also, Bob was my last link to my Mother. He needed to stay with me.

©2006 Robin A.F. Olson. The day Bob arrived.

I remember bringing Bob home from the Vet. We had to have in shaved down. His coat was badly matted. He seemed sad. He really did. He lived in my foster room, what ended up being for three months. I wanted him to be healthy and ready to meet my cats and have them be ready to meet him. The introductions were done slowly, a bit at a time and when Bob left the foster room, he never looked back. He became the Ambassador of my home, the first one to greet a visitor and “The Boss” of the other cats.

©2008 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob in 2008 after being in intensive care for 12 days.

In May of 2008, I had a bad scare. Bob's health deteriorated. He was hospitalized for two weeks. I did everything I could to find out what was wrong. The diagnosis was pancreatitis, but because it's tough to diagnose without doing exploratory surgery, we never found out for sure what it was. My friend, Jennifer, got me an appointment with an animal communicator in hopes that Bob would tell us something. All I found out was that Bob wanted to come home if that could happen, but he was okay with dying. He wasn't afraid, but he was in a lot of pain.

It's almost December 20, 2010. That will be a day I mark in my book as the day Bob had his surgery. It will be the day we find out more about this 5cm mass that envelopes his right liver lobe. We'll find out if tomorrow is Bob's last day on Earth, or if that day is fast approaching. We find out if Bob has another life left of his nine-that perhaps, we'll be lucky and the mass will be removed and Bob will feel better than he has in a long time.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob this past summer.

I want to prepare myself for what is to come. I want to be able to control things. I want to tell myself if I am positive in my thinking or if I pray or if I hope or if I make some sort of bargain, that I can make Bob be OKAY, but I know I can't. Being a Buddhist reminds me to not cling to anything, that a life is like a pebble in a stream, bouncing along, getting stuck against other pebbles, then getting unstuck for a time and moving along, then getting stuck again and so on. There's something beautiful and bittersweet about letting go and just moving along with the flow of life. But I wish I was better practiced at doing so, because I want to make a bargain. I want Bob to be all right, but in the end it's already happened. What's going on inside Bob's body has been going on for some time. Tomorrow we mark the day of knowing, at last, what it is, if it can be removed or if it means the end of the road for one very special, very lovely orange tomcat named, Bob.

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Bob's surgery is tomorrow, Monday, at some time in the afternoon. I'll know at noon (EST) what the exact time will be. By this time tomorrow, I'll have the answers whether I like it or not.

Prayers, good vibes, whatever you got, is welcome...bring it on, for Bob.

Anxiety plays out in my stomach most of the time, but today I could feel it in my chest as my heart beat hard and fast-“thump, thump, thump!” It was time to pack Bob into his cat carrier and drive to Cheshire, the town name I find rather ironic and/or amusing. There we would meet Dr. Weisman at the VCA Cheshire Vet Hospital. As much as I needed to get this meeting to happen, I struggled with wanting to go to bed and stick my head under the covers. I didn't want to know how she felt about Bob's prognosis or whether or not he'd make a good candidate for surgery.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob circa 2008. This is why we love Orange cats!

I was pretty sure, after talking many times to Dr. Larry, that I'd hear: “Well, Bob is a senior with FIV+ and the mass is large and, you know, he probably wouldn't even survive the surgery and maybe it would be best to just send him home to be loved and let him go to The Bridge.”

Dr. Weisman was surprising. She was upbeat and listened, she is quick to understand a situation and she explained things clearly. Bob IS a good candidate for surgery! Yes, he has a liver mass, but his other organs, including his heart and lungs are working normally. His blood test is really quite GOOD, if you don't count the glaringly sky-high ALT value.

She didn't want to do the surgery to prove anything. In fact she said she's not a “hero.” She's not going to go in and try to remove the biggest liver mass ever seen. If it's dangerous, she's not going to do it. She said a few times, she is there to do what is BEST FOR BOB-NOT what is BEST FOR ME, HER, ANYONE. I really admired her for saying that and appreciated it. That's all I want.

She told me she'd open him up, take a look. If he was a mess, full of cancer, she would close him up, send him home to spend his last hours or days or weeks with us. If he wasn't full of cancer, if the mass is on the part of the right lobe (there are THREE lobes on the right of the liver!) she thinks it's on, it would be something she could remove. If it's NOT and too risky to remove she may biopsy it to find out if it's benign.

As it has been since we found out Bob had a liver mass a week ago, there are no firm answers, only the okay to go to the next step. We've reached the place to decide and in the end, there really was no decision to be made. Bob will have a better life without the mass. If it can be removed, we will have that done. If not, we'll at least know what we're dealing with and Bob will have the best, most comfortable end-of-life we can provide for him.

If we did nothing, Bob would slowly decline further and further and die. If we do something, Bob can have quality of life. We did not talk about how much MORE life, but it will be more...

And it's going to cost. It's going to cost a lot of money. Between $3500-4500. Sam and I aren't having Christmas this year due to our lack of finances, but we will find the resources we need to make this happen for Bob. It's not foolishness. It's not "just a cat." It's a living creature who is in pain. If we have the ability to do this for Bob, then we will. Money will never be something that is more important than LIFE. That is just wrong.

At the end of my own life I never want to look back and feel like I didn't do right by my cats because of fear and because of a buck. If I have to go without some things, that's fine. I will still have a roof over my head and food in the panty. It will be okay. It will suck to have to spend this money, but so be it.

Sunday, the foster cats arrive from Georgia. My house is going to be full up with craziness. Monday Bob has surgery and hopefully by Wednesday he will be coming home to recover. It may mean Christmas Eve at the ER Vet. It may mean a sleepless Holiday, but hopefully it may end up meaning, that what I really wanted for Christmas, I have a chance at getting. I just want Bob to be well and to stay with us for as long as he can manage. We're not ready to say goodbye and I think he still has a lot of life left.

Bob Dole proved it to me as we were about to leave the Hospital. We walked past another client who was bringing his Golden Retriever into the waiting room. Bob took one look at the dog and HISSED LOUD!

THAT'S MY BOY!

I'm trying not to think about Bob...24 hours a day. I'm trying to remember to not loose my footing, to stay calm, to try to breathe. I don't want to make a rash decision, but I also don't feel like I have a lot of time to think. With the Holiday crush upon me and with Polly and her family and MacGruber about to arrive, I need to get things ready, but all I want to do is lie down next to Bob and just be with him.

I know I can't take enough photos of him. I can't pet him enough times. I can't listen to his crazy purr long enough. I got up at 5am, went downstairs and just sat with him and petted him. I can't take one second for granted. I can't assume he will be here tomorrow. Sure, that's true for all of us, but when you KNOW the sand in the hour glass is running low, is there any way to prepare?

I've made a few more decisions. I took Bob to get a blood test to check to see if his blood will coagulate properly. If it does, then he is a better candidate for surgery. If it does not, then we'll stop here and just let Bob live out whatever days he has left. If he's OK to go ahead, then I'll meet with the surgeon. She is VERY well respected-certainly one of the best. I'll only have a consult with her, that's it. If she says we can go ahead, then I have to make a very difficult decision. Dr. Larry told me that if we did open Bob up and they find that he has cancer, to wake him up out of sedation is unkind. It would be asking so much of Bob-to have him wake up, then face painful recovery, only to die a few weeks or months later in even more pain from the cancer spreading.

“You have to prepare yourself now for being able to make that choice for Bob, if it comes to that.”

There goes my heart, breaking into little pieces. I can't put Bob through Hell, but there IS a chance it is benign, operable, can be removed and he can live for a few more YEARS. How can I not take that chance? My head feels like it's going to explode.

I ordered a new cat tree a few weeks ago-before all this mess with Bob. I bought it on a lark, thinking it would give another one of my cats a place to go if she got stressed out. The box just arrived a few days ago when I was hormonal (why do cat trees show up when I have PMS? If you want a laugh, read THIS and THIS). Sam and I weren't on great terms (still). Somehow we still managed to put the thing together without killing each other.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Blitzen, the parts inspector arrives.

In a way, it was nice to do something that got my mind off things. The simplicity of tightening down a bolt helped me stop obsessing. Seeing the parts scattered across the floor, while my cats excitedly inspected every piece made me break with tradition, as of late, and actually smile.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob helps with the inspection, but as usual, Nicky fails by smelling Bob's tail, instead of the parts of the cat tree.

Blitzen was fascinated. He sniffed and climbed on everything. Bob and Nicky joined in, but were soon bored and went back to taking a nap. Blitzen, began to scratch on the sisal posts just seconds after they were in place. Lock down a sleeping platform and he was on it having a field day.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob!

Blitz was certainly test-driving the cat tree and it was a good thing he did-he's about the ONLY cat that will actually FIT onto or into most of the damn thing!

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Bratty boy “helps.” (we're still building the cat tree at this point)

It's small. This is not a cat tree for full grown cats, save for the main platform that's big enough for any cat to lie on, but the rest of it is tiny. One piece was so small we didn't even bother to attach it. Honestly, this will be GREAT for my foster kittens, but my guys will not be able to enjoy this very much.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson

Of course, tell that to Blitzen. He loved it. There was only one problem.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Blitzen gives this cat tree a 1-Belly Up!

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Bucket o' Blitz.

“Someone” is not big on sharing.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Spencer was investigating the top of the cat tree when Blitzen reminding him whose cat tree it was.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Not sure which end of Spencer you're seeing in this photo.

I admit that Blitzen is good for cheering me up when I'm feeling down, but it makes me feel guilty, too. Blitz is, in some ways, much like Bob. Blitz has a crazy purr and it's obvious he shares a resemblance with Bob, though Blitz is very light in coloring. Blitzen is all things joyous and fun-full of promise and magic. He has decades ahead of him, most likely. His story is just beginning.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. King of the Cat Tree (for now)

Bob was like Blitzen once-a long time ago. I never knew Bob in his youth, only as an adult. I bet he was a handful when he was a baby. I find myself wishing that I COULD have been his “mama,” from day one. I could have prevented him from getting FIV+, he'd still have all his teeth and most likely, he never would have gotten a mass on his liver in the first place...but I can't get a “do over” to put Bob back together again. I don't have the right tools and I'm pretty sure the instructions are written in Chinese.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob, enjoying his heated cat bed.