I have the Black Death

Once upon a time, someone I once knew that time once told me that sick Andrea was the funniest Andrea. I suppose it's probably true. When I'm sick, this dark, sardonic side of me comes out that I can usually suppress the rest of the time, when I'm a fucking ray of sunshine, all perky and bubbly and make people barf with the sweetness of my smiling disposition.

It's true. Don't laugh.

But I'm not sweet this week. I'm sick. So sick in fact that I have stayed home the last two days from work. I can't recall the last time I took two days off in a row that wasn't for a planned vacation, and I admit that being sick is such a waste of time off that seriously grinds my gears. Nonetheless, I'm home. Because I walked into the office morning whereupon my boss saw that I was the walking, coughing reincarnation of The Black Death and she promptly sent me right back home.

I'm not complaining, mind you. I looked like Death and I felt (feel) like Death. I probably sounded like that opening scene of Outbreak when some sap is hacking away and you're wondering why everyone isn't running for their lives because pretty soon they're ALL GOING TO DIE.

I really did everyone a favor by going home. I'm sparing the world an outbreak of The Plague. Or maybe TB. I've heard it's making a resurgence. And this cough is so bad, I do feel like Doc Holliday minus the jaunty mustache and deathly sex appeal. So at least there's that.

But if I have to die of Tuberculosis alone at home, at least I have two cats that are trying to heal me with their purrs. If it works, I'll market them to the naturopaths of the world.

Though, with as fat as Hobbes is, I'm not sure if the weight of him on my hacking chest is really helping. 

I do find it interesting that I've been wanting to blog for weeks now and even have a nice list of blog ideas, but have been entirely too busy to do so, and once I have time, it's because I'm sick so all I can talk about is phlegm and snot. 

Yay. 

4 hours until my boyfriend gets home. Must hang on until then. At least I have Netflix to sustain me, as I left my current book on my desk at work.  Again with the previously mentioned life ruling. 

And oh yeah. It's Christmas next week and I still haven't posted photos from Thanksgiving. I rule at life. 

If I live to Christmas. I've heard you can live quite some time with Tuberculosis. Send Robitussin. 

Photo of the Day: Fluffers

In case we haven't fawned over my boy enough lately.

See more here.

The Crazy Bunch

As a kid, I always loved the Brady Bunch, maybe because I was an only child who desperately wanted a houseful of siblings, though, let's be honest - I was also obsessed with Marcia and her gorgeous hair and bellbottoms and I pretty much spent a chunk of my formative years trying to look like her.

And, while I never had a houseful of siblings, I did have two cousins who were just like sisters (seriously, I'm soooo the middle child), and I definitely had a houseful of pets.

Where I'm going with this is that Eminem have our own Brady Bunch-esque house going on. Sure, we don't have children, but we do have two cats that used to be only children and a bulk of our days is consumed by those two furkids.

Truly. Merging the furniture has been surprisingly breezy. We've been able to mostly agree on decorating and style (aside from his occasional affinity for plaid). We've yet to have any huge blowout fights (though that's not really our style) and have survived just a few small tiffs with no casualties. We don't fight over the television. In fact, most evenings, he'll be watching some game on TV while I watch one of my shows on my laptop with my earbuds.

So no issues!

But the cats. Those rascals.

Hobbes desperately wants to be friends with Iggy, which makes sense. The only other cat knew was Jete and those two were the best of friends. In many ways, Hobbes was Jete's cat, while she was mine.



And now I'm tearing up a little. Dammit if losing our furbabies isn't painful forever.

It also freaks me out a little how much Iggy is like Jete.

He's smaller and has this cute munchkin face, but he's just as smart and moody and mischievous. He's also cuddly in a really demanding way. Saturday mornings, he'll often crawl right up into my face and demand attention and it reminds me soooo much of her.

So Hobbes has been surprisingly bold and brave about Iggy. He's doing everything he can to get Iggy to see how sweet and cuddly and harmless he is. But Iggy isn't so sure about Hobbes. Just when it seems he's warming up to my fat boy, Hobbes gets too close and hissing and head batting ensues.

They do seem to get along the water fountain, taking turns at the dripping faucet, but that's their only neutral zone as yet.

So Hobbes has taken a new tactic: making Iggy jealous. He's been sleeping in Iggy's fave spots, cuddling up to Eminem, and eating all the food. Well, he ate all the food before too.

I have to hand to it him; I never would have guessed my big lug would have been smart enough to come up with such a plan. And it seems to be working, sort of. Iggy hasn't warmed up to Hobbes, but he has warmed up more to me. He even slept on my side of the bed last night.

The jury is still out on these two, but I have hope that they'll be best friends soon enough.

Saying Goodbye to Jeté

Many of you already know that Jeté is gone. About 3 or so weeks now. Losing her was a big part of why I went on blogging hiatus. I felt like I couldn't really express my feelings about her condition without getting a slew of advice that I just didn't want. And I just couldn't talk about it. I needed to do some grieving alone first.

I knew, even though I didn't want to face that I'd lose her, that she'd let me know when it was time. I knew that. And everyone around me telling me that I couldn't let her suffer and I needed to do the right thing just wasn't helping. The truth was, I'd already promised myself that I wouldn't let her get to the point where she was miserable. And I couldn't have pushed it much longer had I so chosen. She could still eat, still walk, still purr, still lots of things. But the last week, I'd come home and she'd cry at me and look at me with those huge eyes and I knew I had to make it better.

This was the most difficult thing I've ever had to do. Holding a little life is your hands is a huge responsibility and I feel it's changed me.

But there's a great organization here in Portland called Compassionate Care that comes to your home so your pet's last moments don't have to be stressed out in a car or on a steel table.

I held her little body in my arms as she passed out and then passed away and it was the most beautiful and most horrible experience.

I missed her instantly.

I miss her terribly. Oh I go on about my day and life is fine and for the most part things are happy. But her absence is still distinct. Hobbes misses her. He's so lonely, poor guy. He's been attached to my hip like he never was before, cuddles with me now, falls asleep on my hand, sleeps on my bed. Like the whole world has changed. 

How does it ever stay the same? 


For Jeté from Andrea Anthony on Vimeo.

The Saga of Jeté: Chapter 8

I've been in an extraordinarily bad mood the last two days. Have been in a spectacular funk. Stressed about every tiny thing, despite Hot Pants, who always puts me in an excellent mood. And I wasn't even going to write a post for today, was going to give myself the night off. But I finally realized what's making me all stressy and decided to write about it.

Jeté. My furbaby is getting near the end. And it's breaking my heart.

Her tumor is absolutely huge. She's my little Quasimodo. And I know she's got to be incredibly uncomfortable. Her skin is all dry now and I've been putting vaseline on her, which she hates.

I've yet to unpack all my boxes of books, so they're stacked up by my bedroom window. Well, she's created a little perch up there for herself where she can curl up and look out the window all day and night. She never comes down except to maybe get some water (but I know she's a little dehydrated) and I have to pick her up and take her to food.

She just sleeps all day, except when Hot Pants comes over, because she loooooves him. She climbs down and demands a cuddle. But the rest of the time, she doesn't move.

So I know she must not have much time left. I'm at that awful place where I have to decide when to let her go and I was supposed to have made end of life plans a long time ago so that I wouldn't have to worry about what to do when the time came. But I just couldn't bring myself to. So every day I put it off. Let the many stresses and business of my life take over instead.

Yet I have to do it. I have it. I can't let her suffer. But I don't know if I can let her go.

And my friends and I are going out of town this weekend and I realized that I'm super scared to leave her all alone. Who will make her eat or drink? What if she dies while I'm gone and I couldn't say goodbye? And I don't want her to have to die alone either.

I knew this was coming, but I just wasn't prepared for it. Plus holding it together just plain sucks.

Photo of the Day: Right on the Nose

I think we were overdue for a kitty shot. Isn't my Hobbes gorgeous? I love his pink nose and long, long whiskers.

Hobbes has always been a sweetheart. He loves his belly rubbed and will purr just because you give him any attention at all. He's never bit or used his claws on me. He's just a big lug, that one. But he was been getting super cuddly lately! Curling up next to me, laying closer and closer. I predict he'll actually climb on my lap any day now. I gotta say, I'm loving it.

soaking her in

I wake up a little sick. Wake up feeling blach and blah and blurg and just slightly urf. My my Jeté, my Tator Tot loves it when I'm sick. That means I'm in bed. Not only in one place (because really, how frustrating is it that I just won't stay put?) but in a cozy bed where she can maximize prime cuddle time.

She hops on the bed with a small squeak. Oh yes. It's cuddle time, so I'd better prepare. I move my laptop to the side and wiggle my fingers, the universal sign for "don't you want a nice pet?" She walks around me, trying to find the optimal direction to approach. Once she decides on an approach, she walks gingerly up my body until she can determine the prime location to settle. Today it's apparently right on my stomach with her paws resting on my chest.

I put my hand up to pet her head and she pushes her head into my hand before I can even move. As I stroke her soft head, starting between the eyes and going backward, sometimes cupping my hand over her whole head and over her ears, she starts to get a good purr going.

She has one little white spot right between her eyes, like a third eye. I lightly press my finger there, pushing my love into her. I smooth her incredibly soft, grey fur that I've never, ever felt on another cat. People constantly remark about how soft she is. I can't explain it. She's just a rescue kitty, but she has the hair of a Rex Rabbit. It's long and shiny (because she obsessively cleans it) and downy soft.

I scratch under her chin and she lifts her head back to give me plenty of chin scratching space. I can feel her purring throat under my fingertips. She's beyond purring now. When she gets really happy, the purr turns into a coo. Really. She coos.

I run my hands from her head to her tail, cringing every time I touch the huge lump on her back where it used to be smooth and svelte. She has one square patch of fur that's course and shorter than the rest from her surgical biopsy. I wonder if it will grow out before she's gone.

Oh wait. She starts to get up. Cuddle time is clearly over. At this point she usually gets off me and finds a perfect spot to clean my dirty human germs off her fur. But not today. Instead she just maneuvers herself to a more comfy position on my lap and decides this is a good place for a nap.

I rest my hand on her body and measure the rise and fall of her lungs, silently making a note of the rate to record. Seems so far the numbers are pretty steady. I wonder for a second if I can check on computery things without angering her majesty and try to type one handed. She looks up at me with her big, green eyes, like, Really, woman? That can't wait? and pulls her paw over her face to block out the light. I love it when she does that. So freaking adorable.

I will myself to soak in every detail, to remember everything about this moment. About her.

Jeté has always been my sweet, cuddly girl.

Did I ever tell you that I didn't really want a cat when I got her? We always had cats in my house. Well, we always had animals. Lots of animals to fill an acre of desert land in California. But THAT is a post for another day. But the cats I grew up with were stereotypical cats. They were either outdoor cats, busy hunting and getting eaten by coyotes (sorry for that), or they were aloof or bitchy or snobby. I'd never had a cuddly cat.

So I wanted a dog. But I couldn't have a dog in my small, Hollywood apartment. Never mind why. Pretty sure my neighbor Gloria had a pet squirrel, but I guess squirrels don't bark so.

I wasn't completely sold on the whole cat thing but I went to the shelter just to look and came home with Jeté. You can read that story here. At 23, I'd begun my decent into cat lady status.

Right from the start, I knew she was special, attached to my hip, following me throughout the apartment, curling up next to me whenever I sat or slept. She'd watch for me in the window when I left and come running to me when I got home with her little bell collar jinglejinglejinglejinglejingling.

My sweet furbaby.

I know Jeté and I don't have that much time left. I don't know how much really. It's not like the vets even really know. So I just make sure she keeps her weight up and monitor her respiration and keep an eye on her massively growing tumor.

Most of all, I try to soak her in.

Her cuddly sweetness.

Photo of the Day: Glint

My Jeté spends most of her time on the back of the couch, gazing out of the window. Especially on sunny days, when I pull up the blinds so she can see and let the sun warm her.

cat toys

Around our house, cat toys are aplenty. Believe me. These two are super spoiled.

Even more so when I worked more than full time and I feel would feel guilty leaving them alone so much (Yes, I am insane. I realize. Moving on.) and could afford to, I was always buying them new toys. Every time I went to the pet store for food or kitty litter (which is the utter bane of my existence), I'd get a new toy. Every time I went to the grocery store for all those kinds of things one goes to a grocery store to acquire and subsequently consume, if I spotted a cute cat toy they might like, I'd get it.

I had a problem.

So you should have no doubt about the oodles of love I shower upon my felines.

Don't get me started on Jeté's blankie. Yes, she has a blankie. It's a long story and I finally took it away because the thing was disgusting because she drug it everywhere. 

They don't get many new toys these days but they do have a toy box. A cloth orange box I purchased for five dollars at Ikea. They know their toys are there and I know when they've dipped into the toy box because it's been tipped on its side. Well, it's probably usually Hobbes because he's more playful and he's a strong effing cat and he likes to tip things over just to see what's inside. Like the trash can, which, incidentally, is not filled with toys.

But they don't often dip into the toy box these days. They prefer to steal pens and jewelry or any other small object that catches their eyes. Back in California, they'd lose all their toys and look at me like I just needed to supply new ones. Then I'd find huge piles of balls and mice under the couch and against the sliding glass door where they'd inevitably end up in the midst of playtime.

However, they've been less playful of late. I now blame that on myself for not supplying them with endless toys and not taking enough time to play with them. I chalked it up to Jeté getting older, but she's only 7 and despite having cancer, she hasn't presented symptoms yet so cancer shouldn't really be slowing her down yet.

It's really my fault.

The other day, my bestie and roomie tied a shoestring to one of their mice toys, an old realistic-looking white mouse who'd lost its tail and eyes long ago that has a small rattle inside, and blew their minds.

just a raggedy mouse with a shoestring

To be fair, they do have another mouse that's tied to a shoestring which I made years ago. But that toy is old and boring and the mouse tied to it is cheesy and fake and the shoestring decimated from hours of cat killing.

This toy! is new! and exciting! and new!

It's like a flying mouse! that rattles!

They've been going crazy. And getting tons of attention because both Lynnette and I play with them avec said toy all the time. AND, don't tell him I told you, but I supect the other roomie is playing with them too sometimes.

Jeté and Hobbes are in heaven.

All I have to do is rattle the little mouse and they come running.

I drag it around the house. I wave it around in the air (which is their favorite part). I play keep away between them.

They love it.

Hobbes is more fascinated with the mouse. How is that thing flying? Ce n'est pas possible, he thinks. Or, he would if he thought in French. I suspect he speaks Pig Latin, but that's just me.

not sure how this happened

Jeté is more fascinated with the string. She knows the string is attached to the mouse and she is determined to destroy it. In fact, I've found it dismantled from the jaws of Jeté several times and tied it back together. She's the smart one in the operation and she knows it.

the hunter prepares to eat its prey

I've even woken up and found the toy on my bed, a not so subtle hint to wake up and play with us, woman!

Sometimes Jeté will meow at me mournfully for no good reason. I check her food and water. Nothing. I try to cuddle. No, not cuddle time. So I ask her, "Where's your toy?" And she'll take me to it. Playtime. NOW!

They've been addicted to the new toy and both of them have been bounding with energy. One new toy and they're totally different cats! It's really a joy to see and it's making me take the time to play with them more. Quality time for both the kitties and moi-self.

Since Jeté was diagnosed with a sarcoma, I have made a point to never turn down cuddles. She gets as many as she wants when she wants because I don't have much time with her left and I'm going to miss stroking her insanely soft fur and she purrs like a Hemi. But more than that, I know I'll regret not giving her as much loves as possible.

It just didn't occur to me to give her as much playtime as possible too. And playfullness is the first thing she'll lose.

So, for now? Thanks to their loverly benefactor Lynnette. Because we are going to play as much as possible.

Photo of the Day: Sentry

Jeté's favorite spot is on the back of the couch, where she can look at the window and guard against any intruders. But I tell ya, she hates those blinds. If I pull them up, she is in the window instantly.

Photo of the Day: Green Eyes

So I figured with Jeté getting all the attention, I'd share a photo of Hobbes. Aren't his eyes gorgeous?

He's sitting in his chair, by the way. I'd thought it was mine, but no. It's his. Which proves he's a total guy. Because every man has a chair that's all his.Whether the women like it or not.

The Saga of Jeté: Chapter 7

I was hoping to not post about Jeté again until next week. But we've just had news.

Her cancer has spread. She has another tumor under her shoulder blade and masses in her lungs. Since she hasn't responded to any treatments, surgery isn't really an option now. So there's nothing more we can do.

You should have heard me when I found she had lung cancer. I was like, she doesn't smoke! The oncologist was not amused.  I was like, I need to make jokes, woman!

Anyway.

Now I just try to make sure she's a happy kitty, keep her as pain-free as possible, and watch for  any trouble breathing. The lump on her back could also become exposed and get infected so I have to watch for that.

I do still need to raise another $1000 to pay for her CT, which I'm so glad I got because I now know about the other masses. I never would have suspected her lungs.

I will, of course, keep everyone abreast of her health. She's very cranky right now, but not in any pain.

Thanks for all the support. You guys have been wonderful. 

The Saga of Jeté: Chapter 6

I have so much news. So much! But damn if it's a lot to share. So one piece at a time, broken into several posts. I know. It's torture.

So of course the most important thing I have to share is the lastest development in my furbaby Jeté's cancer.

Which is: the chemo is not working. Her tumor is bigger.

After I was sure it felt smaller, no, in fact, it's bigger.

So I am taking until Tuesday to decide my next step, mostly because the oncologist is closed until then, but also because I want to make a measured decision.

Obviously we're stopping chemo. It's not working.

Radiation is out of the question. It just is. It's entirely too expensive and the closest radiation oncologist is in Seattle. Jeté gets stressed out to head across town. I can't pack her up for a 6 hour drive roundtrip to Seattle. Because at the end of the day, it's about her quality of life. But I couldn't afford it anyway. It's just out of the question.

So no radiation.

My other options are:

a) get a CT scan and if it's operable, operate.
b) get a CT scan and don't operate (even if it's operable).
c) do nothing.

I have a hard time with do nothing. Because what if there is one small chance that she could still be ok? But, I have to admit, finance is still a factor. The CT (which I told my dad is just for cats...you know...a CAT scan? ba dum chhhh) is around $1100 and surgery will be around $3000.

But I hate to just take surgery off of the table when there is a small window that it could work.

That window is very small however. What happens with these tumors is they grow tiny fingers that are impossible to see and grow into and around the cat. Without a CT, we don't know where and how deep these fingers are. But even knowing where they are doesn't mean you can cut them out (which is why chemo was supposed to shrink them). And if you don't get the fingers out, the tumor will just grow back.

So right now I'm leaning toward getting the CT, even though it's a huge expense, because I have to know if an operation is possible. I have to know if we have another shot at saving her.

She's only 7 years old. Have I mentioned that? Not even 7, not quite. She's so young. I have this tiny life in my hands and I have to do everything I can within reason to save her.

I refuse to make any decisions about the operation until I get the results of the CT (and see if I can raise the limit on my care credit).

Though I have to say, if it's a long shot, I may not put her through that. I may just let her live out her life, happily. I hurts me to see her so stressed out.

But for now? She's a happy kitty. Cuddling with Hobbes. These two love each other so much. I do worry about how Hobbes will do if we lose her. Jeté mothered and loved and cuddled and picked and dominated Hobbes since I adopted him as a kitten 4 1/2 years ago.

But of course I'm worried about me too.

Anyway, so this is a great time to beg you for money! Hooray! You guys have been very generous. You helped me raise money for her most of her chemo and I am so grateful. Beyond grateful.

Aaaaand I know it's just after the holidays and everyone is hurting. So I know it's wrong of me to keep asking. But I need to. I need to raise more money.

Of course you can always just donate. I won't turn those donations down. The link is in the upper right corner there.

Or you can purchase something cute for yourself or as a gift from my Etsy shop! Everything is handmade and the second item ships free. I also do custom pieces inexpensively (just ask Ali from Made of Words). If you're interested in a custom piece, just email awesomecrazylady at gmail dot com.

Thanks so much for your support. Please send happy thoughts our way.

The Saga of Jeté: Chapter 5

When we last discussed, I think I told you that Jeté's oncologist was closing her practice but was hopeful that the course of treatment we chose was working.

Té saw the new oncologist Wednesday, who is nothing like the old one in way of personality. I'm sure she's lovely but it's taking some getting used to. She was not happy with Jeté's progress at all and wanted me to start a different drug for Té's chemo.

She also wants to operate much sooner and get her a CT scan, which means I'm looking at $4000 or so much sooner than I'd expected.

At first, I was really freaking out. Every visit seems to bring a new stress, new information to process. What I'd love is if we could decide on a course of treatment and do it. That way I can barrel though and keep strong for my furbaby.

But this just isn't the way with veterinary oncology, I guess. It's all one day and a time and changeable. I am really struggling with that, I have to admit. It's not great for a control freak such as myself to be thrown for a new loop every five minutes. But such is life.

And it does not help that Té is getting shuffled around with new vets. It's no one's fault, but it's a challenge to be sure.

So I emailed the old oncologist, because she sweetly told me to anytime I needed her opinion, and she concurs with the new gal that if the tumor isn't shrinking enough, we should try a new drug. This course of chemo is the same price, so that's a bonus to be sure.

She also told me that if I can't afford the CT or surgery to not feel badly, that I'm still a good person and clearly love my cat. That was so nice to hear, I can't tell you how much. I wrapped that information around me and let it warm my heart.

It doesn't mean I won't try to raise the funds still but the burden of guilt has been weighing me heavily. I'm responsible for this furbaby's life and many vets have looked at me like it's a given that I would shell out my soul to do so. I'd love to, I would, but if I can't find the money, does that make me a bad person? I sure as hell hope not.

Anyway, so I've scheduled Té's treatment for Friday morning. Please send all healing thoughts our way. I'm asking Santa for a cancer-free Jeté for Christmas. Either that or a hot vet* who can miraculously cure her and will fall madly in love with me in the process and who also wants to hike Machu Picchu, sail the Greek Isles, and have babies. All with me. Not necessarily in that order or in conjunction.

What? I girl can dream, right? Santa?

*Tumbleweed*

Anywayyyyyy.

Jeté and I are still taking donations. Thanks endlessly to everyone who has donated. They keep coming in and every one is a sweet, glowy surprise of happiness and hope. Believe me, it is.

And my Etsy shop! You all are dears and are purchasing my items faster than I can make them. There are still some fabulous goodies (earrings, rings, and pendants) there for you to purchase for yourself or for gifts. And I'm adding a bunch more today or tomorrow. All proceeds fund Jeté's care of course. The second item is free shipping and I ship everything priority. Because I love you.

Also: lots of people have asked if they can buy my photography. And the answer is: YES! Not on Etsy because the options are much more limited there, but on redbubble. I have dozens of prints available for sale in all sorts of sizes from greeting cards to canvas prints.

If you've seen a photo of mine that you love and it isn't on redbubble, please just let me know at awesomecrazylady at gmail dot com and I'll get it on there. I aim to please. Want to see more of my work? Check out my flickr.

Thanks so much for all of your support! Muahs from me and purrs from Jeté.

*Am I right, Lori, or am I right?

Some Bidness

Firstly of the mostly, I'm guest posting today over at Cat Chat. If you've been a regular reader, you know the story, but please go visit and tell Caren thank you for hosting me and Jeté.

Secondly, but not less importantly, Raw Photos submissions are OPEN!!

Theme: LOVE
This theme is completely open to personal interpretation. Make it personal to you and submit your best shots. 

Rules:

1. You have to have taken the photo [duh, don't be a jerk and enter someone else's photo. NOT COOL.]
2. The photo has to be a raw photo. What does that mean? That means NO PHOTOSHOPPING. You can screw around all you want with exposure and white balance on your camera, and we'll even let you crop the photo, but that's it. No changing hues. No intensifying colors. No adding aliens or unicorns. RAW PHOTOS, baby. That's what we're looking for. (Both digital and digital scans of film are okay)
3. You have until December 4th to enter a photo. You can enter up to two [2] photos per contest.

Submit here.

Now GO GO GO!

The Saga of Jeté: Chapter 4

Well, here's what's up.

Jeté is so sick of being sick. She has been moody as all hell. Clingy to me and Hobbes one minute then vicious the next. She has been picking on Hobbes, especially and the poor guy has no idea what the hell is going on. He just hovers and tries to make her happy.

We went to see the oncologist again today to get her blood work done and tumor measured. And Té cried the entire way there.

We got there and had to wait a fucking hour to see the doc. There are two nurses there (vet techs I guess). One is an angel. The cat whisperer. So sweet. Even her name is Cat. Té loves her.

The other one is a royal bitch.

Guess which one was there today?

So I sat with my kitty in the waiting room as Bitchy McBitchypants eavesdropped on everything I said.

Oh yeah, this other couple was there with their dachshund who has prostate cancer, the poor guy. They were very cool and kept me company. And Riley, their dog, really really really really wanted to play with Jeté. He acted sweet. He whined. He sighed. I thought he might have a heart attack. When the tech took her off for her blood work, Riley flopped on the floor dramatically. I swear I heard him sigh, I give up!

So sweet. I rubbed his floppy ears as a consolation prize.

Anyway.

The good news: her blood work was completely normal. And the mass has shrunk about a centimeter. So that means she's responding to the treatment! Let's all give a huge happy hurrah!

The frustrating news: the oncologist can no longer afford to keep her practice and is closing. Seriously. So I have to find a new oncologist. She gave me the info of the closest two, which are both a bit of a drive for me, but what the hell can I do? Gotta pick one by tomorrow.

The bad news: when I was quoted the cost of the carbo, I asked over and over if it's the total cost for the whole treatment. Each time they said yes, of course, now sign here. Right. Nope. What I paid is the cost of one treatment. One. If Té gets all four treatments, I'm looking at around $1600 total. You guys helped me pay for the first treatment so thank you!

Seriously. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

But here's where I get all overwhelmed with this again. I'd thought I was just raising money for her surgery, but that gets put on the back burner and now I try to raise the cash for her carbo treatments. How the hell do people do this? Do they have ten grand in their savings accounts for just these kinds of things? Or do they just opt not to treat?

BUT, the Etsy shop is still going strong and I'm adding new pendants soon as well as another pair of earrings. Should make awesome gifts so snatch them up now! For the new kids, all the proceeds go to Jeté's treatment. Also, the donation box is still up. Received some new donations recently. You guys are so incredibly generous; it blows me away. 

So yeah. Frustrated. And overwhelmed. Again. Just when I think I have a plan and things are manageable, things get crazy again.

Unrelated: psycho guys, stop finding me. I don't need your crazy. That is all.

Anyway, that's all for now. Don't forget to come by tomorrow for a kickass Sexy Saturdays post!

The queen is ill and cannot talk right now. But she does thank you for your continued support.

Not Funny, But Still

My posts haven't been very funny lately. And so I was determined to write a funny post today. Give my new readers and sense of what I'm really like and give my faithful readers a breath of fresh air.

But that won't be happening.

Because I awoke with an intense migraine today.

And I can barely see through the fuzziness to type.

I did want to update everyone on Jeté, however. Also: for the new folk, I never use the accent in her name because I am lazybones. Her name is after the ballet leap and is French in origin. Pronounced with a soft J like Jean Val Jean in Les Mis, the first e pronounced like uh, and tay. Jeté

 Also for the new folk: Jeté has vaccine associated sarcoma. 


So, she had her first dose of carboplatin on Saturday (which is a form of chemo) and now we just hope it is effective. We see the concologist on Friday and hopefully it will be decreased in size enough to determine that the treatment is working. If it is not, we'll have to make another game plan. If it is, she gets treatments 3-4 weeks apart and up to 4 treatments total. 


Then there is surgery. We want a surgeon to cut it out of course. That would be ideal. But cost is a factor. 


If you read back, you'll know that there was some drama with her records and the vaccine companies. One vaccine company has agreed to kick in some money even though we have no proof it was their vaccine she was administered. This is incredible. They're giving us $500 which covers her first diagnostic biopsy (which the other vaccine company agreed and then refused to pay for) and part of the carbo treatment. 


Also, thanks to you incredibly generous people, I'm able to pay for her carbo entirely. I cant tell you how much that means to me. You guys have been so supportive and opened your pockets without so much as shaking my hand. It blows me away. And whatever you've given, from $10 to $100 or a purchase in my Etsy shop has made a difference. Has helped me pay for this treatment. 


So I need to raise the money for surgery. I'm looking at $3000. 

Please tell your friends about my Etsy shop or shop yourself. I have rings and pendants and earrings. All cute stuff for Christmas too. I'm also learning how to make cloth flowers so hair barrettes will be coming at some point soon. All the proceeds go to pay for Jeté and her surgery. 

Or if you prefer, the donation box is still up in the right corner of this blog. If you can give $5, it makes a difference. 

If you can't give, please tell your friends or your readers or your followers on Twitter. 


Thank you so much. Now let's all hope this treatment works!

The Saga of Jete: Chapter 3

Jete saw the oncologist on Saturday.

I really liked her. She was kind, very thorough. She sat on the floor with her mug of coffee and told us the entire history of sarcomas in cats. I'm pretty confident she gave me pretty expert information.

So I decided to go with a somewhat experimental treatment called carboplatin which, if I understand correctly, may not work but if it does, it has a better success rate than radiation. And if I can avoid irradiating my cat, that would be awesome.

Also, I guess it has very few side affects. She may be nauseated the first 24 hours after dosage (and my Jete has a very sensitive stomach), but no other symptoms, hopefully.

Plus, it's cheaper. It's under $500 vs $7-10 thousand. Right. And if it doesn't work, we can always try radiation.

Te gets her first dose on Friday and then we wait 2 weeks before we can operate and try to cut as much of this sucker out as possible.

The operation is around $3 grand, but we're still hoping the vaccine company will pay for some if not all of it. I don't know where we stand with that, but I'll be connecting with her primary vet on Tuesday most likely and I can figure out what the heck is going on.

Meanwhile, Jete is pretty happy. She still has to wear a collar until her sore spot heals completely. But she seems like her old self. Very cuddly and lovey and playful. She even started picking on Hobbes again, which I take as a good sign. 

You guys have been seriously kickass awesome with the donations! And with the buying of the cute items from my Etsy shop. Thank you so so so so much! You rock lobster! Jete purrs with her gratitude. I promise to figure out earrings soon, but in the meantime, I've added new pendants and a couple of new rings. So go check it, yo! Before you know it, Thanksgiving will have passed and you'll need to buy (yourself) cute Christmas baubles.

Thanks so much for all the support. It means the world to have you guys here for us. The blogging world constantly blows me away with its unfettered kindness and loyalty. Love ya for it!

purr purr purr

Random Thoughts of a Crazy Lady

Ode to My Computer
Oh Computer,
How I love thee
When you are gone, I lose my shit
When you are here, you bring joy to my days
Never leave me again
Or I will cut you

~~~~~~~~~~

So I mentioned the other day that my dear friend Morgan is getting married! You should go read her blog post about getting engaged. It makes me happy in my panties.

I'll be in the wedding (next June) which is awesome and I get to pick my own bridesmaid dress which is super duper fucking awesome! However, it occured to me this morning that anywhere between 1 and 4 exes may be in attendence at this wedding.

Therefore, I'm putting a open call out now for a wedding date. One of you will be lucky enough to escort me and dance with me and look pretty at my friend's wedding in sunny Southern California! Aren't you excited? I'll be taking applications until I choose one lucky duck.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jete has been sleeping a lot. Poor thing just seems so exhausted all the time. But she keeps wriggling out of her T shirt which she has to wear so she and Hobbes can't lick her incision. And last night she got so desperate to clean herself that she stuck her whole head under the shirt. I thought I'd die of cute.

 
pobrecita

As always, thanks for all your support. The donation link is still up.

~~~~~~~~~~

Speaking of cats, I have decided I don't have two cats. I have one cat and one dog. Behold:


Hobbes the Dog from Andrea Anthony on Vimeo.

I apologize for my horrific film-making! You want quality film? Call one of my cousins.

shit just got real

Have you guys missed me?

I'm still sans computer (borrowing my roommates' as they are out for the evening) for the 7th day in a row and it's making me lose my ever lovin' mind! You know, more than usual.

It's ridic. The Apple store told me 3-5 days to get my computer back and I've been checking with them since day 5. How long does it take to repair this apparently tiny problem? I swear to all things unholy! And it's not just the lack of amusement I miss (though the distraction from the stress of my cat's cancer would be great), But I make my living off my computer. So I'm also losing money.

I also got the results of Jete's biopsy. Fibrosarcoma. Her appointment with the oncologist isn't until a week from Saturday. She's healing well (she's been in some pain from the biopsy) and is groggy and sleeping a lot. It's hard to see my outgoing cat sleep in the closet all day or under my bed, but I'm trying to leave her be. It breaks my heart though.

Yesterday, it all accumulated and I literally thought I might lose it. One of my best friends, Morgan, called to talk about her upcoming wedding details (yay! I can finally say something!) and a huge part of me wanted to be giggly and happy and the friend she needs (and I'm sooooooo happy for her!), but I was feeling so low that I started feeling a little schizo faking it. She deserves genuine laughs and I couldn't supply those.

I couldn't brave face it anymore. Couldn't hold anything in. I just flipped out. Cried my ass off for a bit. Turned off my phone.

Then I turned it back on and called my older cousin who'd lost her pug to brain cancer a few years ago. She let me cry, empathised as only someone who has lost a pet can, and gave me some really practical advice. Then she told me to let myself have a drink and relax and be a little selfish.

Best. Advice. Ever.

So I drove and bought some Fat Tires (because I drink so little I didn't have some wine or beer in the house), waited 15 minutes while the cashier told me his life story, bought a nice, greasy cheeseburger, and came home and indulged while I watched some movies (the old fashioned way, on an actual TV!). Sometimes it's the little indulgences.

I awoke this morning feeling sooo much better. Life is the same. Jete still has cancer. My computer is still in the mac hospital. I'm still broke as fuck and trying to figure out how I will fund my life and Jete's treatment. But I really needed to cry and feel shitty and then have a good beer and some fatty food and turn off my brain before I would feel better.

But you guys have been so insanely, unbelievably supportive. Thank you so much for the lovely comments and emails and tweets. And to those who have donated, I appreciate every dollar more than you'll ever know! You guys are so generous even when you can only give a little or your own pets are sick. Your unbridled support and generosity has completely floored me, humbled me. You renew my faith in humanity.

A word on prayers: my dad (who is Mormon) said he'd pray for Jete and then added: also to Buddha or whoever it is you want me to pray to! Isn't that cute? But here's the thing. I appreciate your prayers. Your good thoughts. Your positive energy. I may not believe in a god. But I believe in good will. Whoever you pray to is just what my furbaby needs. It doesn't matter that we all believe in different things; what matters is the kind act. Whether it's a prayer or not. So thank you.

If you're still interested in donating, the box is still up there and will remain up until her treatment is paid for. Even if you cannot give, I appreciate your support, advice, kind words. I'm looking for others online whose cats (or dogs) have had vaccine-related sarcomas. If you hear of anyone, please point them my way. I'd like to hear how they treated their pets.