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Bud's Story: ChoosingJan 24 '02 (Updated Jan 26 '02) Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line There are many things to consider when choosing a veterinarian. Different choices for different reasons.
It's that time again. It's the time that I dread, a time that thankfully doesn't come too often. It's time to make the decision about one of our beloved felines. I've always been a cat person. I've had cats my entire life. They come and they go. The coming part is easy. The going is the part that I dread. Sometimes it's easy. Well, no, it's never easy. But sometimes, it is easier. Sometimes they just decide to go off on their own and we just never see them again. Other times though, like now, they seem to want to hold on and it's hard to decide when it's time to stop helping to keep them alive and instead to help them die with some dignity left. I'm going to cry as I write this and I don't care too much if it makes sense or not. I'm facing this dilemma right now and maybe this is my way to cope for the time being. I'm going to talk about Bud, the feline whose fate is in my hands right now. I'm going to tell his whole story and somehow it will actually relate to the topic at hand: choosing a veterinarian for your cat. Actual tips for making these choices will be in bold. I've always been of the mind that cats are people too, just in their own way. As such, they deserve the same treatment as humans do. In sickness and in health, medical decisions must be made. Bud has been through his fair share. You see, when Bud was a baby, he was a feral kitten. His daddy was one of our household cats, Mr. Smith. His momma lived down the street. Apparently, she wasn't a very good momma cat. Mr. Smith decided that he deserved custody of Bud and his sister and brother (Sweetie and Lil' Frisk). Mr. Smith carried the kittens up to our house and placed them under a tree outside. He nurtured them, only leaving for a few minutes to eat. He carried food back to them. He cuddled them. He was a very good dad. As the kittens grew, we tried to initiate interaction with them. We didn't want them to be completely wild. We could barely touch them. They would run away. One day we noticed that Sweetie had a sneeze. We were concerned. She and Bud were obviously getting colds. We somehow managed to catch them. We took them to the good veterinarian, the one that I used to work for that had experience with feral cats. They got their shots and were put on meds. After that, they started to become accustomed to being handled by us and they slowly became more tame. (Medical choice here: office with the proper experience for the situation.) The kittens grew to be cats. It was time for neutering and booster shots. Since Bud and siblings were now used to human contact, we chose to take them to a local vet with cheaper prices. It was basic service, nothing too fancy needed. (Medical choice here: price.) Like I said, cats come and go. Somewhere through that first year or two, Lil' Frisk disappeared. He just failed to show up for dinner one night and the next and the next. We never did see him again. During the same time period, two stray momma cats deposited litters of kittens by our neighbor's garage and in the dog house in our yard. We decided to get them while they were young. We lured the momma cats into cages by using the kittens as bait. Then we had one of the vets from my office come out to the house. He checked out the kittens and spayed the two mommas on the kitchen table. (Medical choice: vet who makes house calls.) When Bud was just shy of two years old, he came home after being missing for a few days. He was a little skinny, a lot dirty, and one of his front legs was snapped in half with the bone sticking out, obviously broken beyond repair. I knew what had happened and I knew what was coming. We had been through a similar incident with our cat Misty the year before. Bud was the victim of an illegal trap. Like we did with Misty, we rushed Bud down to the emergency vets for the inevitable. Bud was taken into surgery to have his entire leg amputated up to and including his shoulder. (Medical choice: competence and emergency services available, on call 24/7.) Bud is actually one of my family's cats with my dad being his primary caretaker. After his surgery, I took Bud home with me to recuperate for a few weeks since my dad wouldn't have been up to dealing with the drainings, the stitches, the meds, and everything else that was involved. Bud recovered very quickly though, being the youngster that he was. He learned to walk and to run on his three remaining legs. He could still catch mice and birds. He never did seem to realize that he didn't have that leg. Even today, he moves that shoulder area around like he's really covering up his business. But he's done well. A few years later Bud became sick once again. We had no idea what was wrong with him. He was incredibly lethargic, stopped eating, stopped everything. As I've learned over the years, when making these medical choices, it's ok to have two veterinarians. We have one vet that we use for routine shots and neuterings, simple colds, and that's about it. We use him because he's cheap and is plenty capable of dealing with the basics of veterinary medicine. When things are more complicated, we choose to go to a more professional veterinary center. This center has a full laboratory, x-ray facilities, and is capable of running much more sophisticated tests. This all, of course, comes at a much greater price. You have to weigh the pros and cons. When Bud became really ill that time and it didn't appear to be anything simple like a cold or infection, we opted to take him to the professional guys. They ran blood tests in their lab to rule out FIV (feline AIDS) and FeLV (feline leukemia). Neither was the culprit in Bud's condition. They also ran a CBC and a string of other blood tests. After digging through medical journals, they finally came up with a diagnosis: auto-immune hemolytic anemia. Bud went through two separate blood transfusions, one from a donor cat and one from one of our other cats, and once again, Bud recovered. They said that the condition might recur, but it never did. Bud has enjoyed pretty solid health for quite a few years since that time. He had a few incidents with some ulcers in his mouth and rotting teeth. We saw the cheap vet for that as it only required antibiotics and some minor dental surgery. (Ok, maybe major dental surgery as Bud has only one tooth left in his entire mouth now.) Other than that, we've had a few good years, at least up until this past summer. Last summer Bud began to develop a growth on his bottom lip. I made the choice to go to our professional vet, though I wasn't able to see my favorite in that practice. (Medical choice: large practices have more doctors and you may not like them all. In emergencies, you might not get who you want to see. Smaller practices have fewer risks in this area.) Bud saw one of the vets that I didn't think too highly of, but I accepted his diagnosis. He said it appeared to be another type of auto immune reaction or that it could possibly be cancer. We went over the treatment options and decided to try a round of antibiotics combined with a steroid to bring down the swelling. If Bud responded to the treatment, it more than likely ruled out the cancer. Bud did respond to the treatment and the swelling was reduced significantly. We were greatly relieved, at least temporarily. A few months later, the area began to swell again. I made an appointment with my favorite vet at the large practice. His diagnosis was much more grim. To him, it truly appeared to be a tumor and the area in which it was growing tended to have a high malignancy rate. We discussed options again and decided to try the steroids and antibiotics again. Again, the swelling went down but the skin was obviously changing in the area. We knew we were simply making Bud comfortable and prolonging his life. My great doc did offer surgery as an option, but at a hefty price of well over $1200. In addition, the surgery would require the removal of Bud's entire lower jaw. He would need a stomach tube for several weeks at least and he would need to learn to eat again. It was also possible that the cancer would have already spread to other areas. It was also possible that the surgery itself could kill him. We opted not to go through with the surgery basically because we didn't want to put Bud through all of that. After everything else he has already been through, we didn't think it fair to do so. He adjusted to not having a leg when he was two years old. But at 13, he might not even survive the surgery, let alone adjust to the results. So we decided to continue to try to keep Bud comfortable for as long as we could, knowing that the inevitable day would come when he would need to let go. After over a month on the meds, Bud started to hate it immensely. He started refusing to eat, running away anytime anyone came near him because he anticipated the dreaded pilling. We chose to stop his medications in December and to just let him enjoy the rest of his life without those worries. Bud's appetite quickly increased after the cessation of the medications. He has continued to eat lots of food. He has continued to take an active interest in life around him. He's still even playing with mice outside. But in the past month and a half, while the swelling has not increased, there have been obvious changes in Bud's appearance. The scabby appearance of his tumor went away. Now his entire chin and lower jaw just look like raw meat. One piece of his lower lip has just fallen off completely. He is still having some difficulty eating at times. His mouth bleeds sometimes. He drools almost constantly. He tries to groom himself all of the time, but he's not doing such a great job at it. His fur has become very rough all over. And tonight my dad called me to tell me that all of the fur on his one foot is completely gone. I guess he just licked at it and it came off. He's just not looking too good and my dad thinks that it's time. He's ready to let him go. Now I'm trying to prepare myself for the task. Bud would be 14 years old in May and he's been through a hell of a lot in his lifetime. I don't want him to be in pain and I know that I need to be ok with this. I'm going to go see Bud tomorrow, to see for myself. I just saw him a week ago. He still has that brightness in his eyes. He still shows that interest in life. And that's the part that hurts me so much. I've been through this before and I've felt the guilt, the wondering if it's really the right thing to do. I'll be calling to schedule an appointment for euthanasia tomorrow. And I'll be calling our professional doc, hopefully we can see my favorite. I've been through euthanasia with the good doc before. I know it's done in a nice way, if there can even be such a thing. While this is a very simple procedure, I'm not opting for the cheap doc for this one. (Medical choice: positive relations and interactions, feeling comfortable.) I know that when we see the doc, it will be ok. It won't be easy, but it will be humane and painless. Doc will give Bud a sedative first to chill him out. Then I get to hold him and tell him how much he has been loved. I get to stay with him through the whole procedure. The second injection will be the one that stops his heart from beating. It will be quick and it won't hurt. At least it won't hurt Bud. I'll be offered a box of tissues and I'll be allowed to remain in the room for as long as I need. I'll choose to take Bud's body back home where we can bury him along with everyone else that we've loved and lost. And then it will all be over. Bud won't hurt anymore, but I will. Maybe I'll come and update this when it's all over. Maybe I won't. Maybe I'll just delete it because I don't know how helpful it might be anyway. And maybe I just don't care either. Maybe I just need to have my feelings. And maybe I just need to know that I made the right medical choices for my cat by evaluating each situation very carefully. And maybe I'll stop hurting someday. But probably I won't. So Buddy, Magnet Leg, you are so loved. And I hope you know that we've always done the best that we could for you. We've only ever wanted you to be happy. Thank you for sharing yourself with us for all of these years. I'll miss you forever. I'll love you forever. You're the best boy and you're beautiful. Now it's time to go see Grey Boy and Lil' Frisk and Jaspar and Misty and Whiskers and Frisky and Jasmine and Jessie and all of the others. I bet your dad, Mr. Smith, will be waiting for you. And I bet everyone is with my Poppy. You'll remember him too. It will be ok, Budley. We won't stop loving you ever. And you can wait for us there. We won't forget you. UPDATE: I scheduled the appointment and I drove Bud to the vet. I talked to him along the way, telling him about the Bridge. I still don't know that he was ready, but the tumor was getting out of control. He had such a zest for life. Even at the vet's office, he leaned up to look out the window... he always liked to do that. The vet agreed that it was time though. There was no way to treat it any longer and Bud's quality of life was definitely no longer at an acceptable level. His body was certainly ready to let go though. I stayed with Bud, with my nose pressed to his, kissing that spot on the bridge of his nose, telling him that I'd be with him until he reached the Bridge. It was only seconds until he let go and I held him the whole time. I took Bud home and we buried him in one of his favorite spots. He had been there earlier when my dad was digging the hole and he seemed to approve. His body was laid to rest there. I can't imagine not having him magnet leg on me anymore. I can't imagine not stroking the bridge of his nose. I only hope that he knows that we let him go out of love so that he wouldn't have to hurt anymore. And I hope he's playing with all of the others on the other side of the Bridge. You will always be loved, Bud. In loving memory of Bud born 5/31/88 crossed the Rainbow Bridge 1/25/02  |
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