Microblog Mondays: My Furbaby is Not Long for This World...

Our dear Mel over at Stirrup Queens has begun a blog phenomenon... as she frequently does. 

Microblog Mondays. Writing in your own space. Something short and sweet. But it's meant to take back our bloggy space and call it our own. I am going to try to do this periodically. Life's hectic. So we'll see how long this lasts.
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I do not know what to write. 

My heart aches. 

In January 2014 I wrote about the heartbreaking loss we'd suffered. My then 18-year old cat, Shadow, passed away in my arms the day we returned from a family vacation. 

Now, a year and a half later, Shadow's brother, 19-year old Smudge (he would be 20 on August 25), is in pain and he is showing me signs that he is ready to go play with Shadow and the catnip mice in the sky. 

I cannot put him through any more pain. I hate to see him struggle to jump or walk, and his legs tremble as he tries valiantly to go to the washroom. Poor baby boy. It's not fair. 

I've had my boys longer than I've known Hubby. It was my boys who showed Petite how to treat animals... kindly, gentle, with the utmost of care and respect. And it is because I love him so much that today I made the dreaded phone call to have a vet come later this week for an in-home euthanasia. It will tear me up inside. But I need to do this. For him. I cannot prolong his pain and suffering for my own benefit. Nope. Not fair. 

Big Boy 'Mudgers, I love you. I always will. Mommy will see you again and rub that white spot on your belly, nuzzling you softly. I promise. 

October 2008; enjoying the sunshine

August 2009: Rub my white spot Mommy!

August 2014; between Mommy's legs for the night!

October 2014; loving the catmint!

January 2015; snuggling in bed with Petite for the FIRST time!

Moving Right Along; the Latest and Greatest in our World. Or at least, what's keeping us busy.

So let's get up to speed, shall we? Where were we when we last left off? Oh yeah...

Ontario Election

The Ontario election has come and gone. The Liberals won a majority and that means that IVF coverage was pushed through in the budget. Now we do not know yet what that 'coverage' will look like. What will it cover? One fresh cycle only? Or frozen too? How many cycles exactly? Will it come in the form of a tax break or actual coverage up front? And for what ages? Married couples only? Singles? LGBT? What about using donor eggs? What about using donor sperm? There are a lot of parameters to decide.

Milestones

We are still feeling the loss of my baby boy, Shadow as the previous post detailed. His brother, Smudge, has certainly stepped up and tried to fill the void. He's like Velcro to me at the moment, and hates it when I leave the house. He's very attached to people and prefers to be in a room where we are, rather than by himself. But sometimes age gets the better of him and he'd just prefer to go lie down and sleep on our bed, warm and cosy in the blankets. He turned 19 on August 25. He's an old boy now, but we love him and we are keeping him as happy and comfortable as possible until his own time comes.

Petite's 5^th birthday was in August as well. Because she started kindergarten (Jardin) this year, ON her birthday no less (!), she opted to wait to celebrate her birthday in September so she could invite a few of her classmates and close friends from school. So we did that and had 14 children come to celebrate at a local indoor play park. She had an absolute blast!

We also passed the anniversary of my Aunt's passing, and just last week, we released balloons to celebrate what would have been her 80^th birthday. We still miss her so very much. She has left a definite void in our hearts.

Vacation

Over the summer, I took Petite back to The Rock to spend time with my family. We took a side detour over to NS and NB to see family there. In particular, to meet my cousin's new boy-girl twins! They were about 5 months old when we saw them and they were gorgeous! Oh my heavens! What beautiful children. My cousin and his wife did IVF as well and they hit the jackpot. She was able to carry the twins to 39 weeks before they induced her and delivered them by C-section. How very, very luck are they. And in a nod to my grandfather and my aunt, the boy's middle name is my grandfather's first name, and the girl's middle name is my aunt's first name… or the diminutive of it and the name my aunt actually preferred us to call her. I had a few dresses that my aunt had given to Petite, and I passed them on to this baby girl; she can actually wear a dress that her namesake purchased… long before she was even conceived. We are so blessed.

While at home, I managed to see my sister and my nephew too. We had such fun with them and made some wonderful memories, for kids, parents, and grandparents alike. It was a lovely holiday.

Family Grief

Right now, we are dealing with a family issue. Over the summer, my MIL complained of pain in her right side. She delayed a visit to the doctor, and when she finally got to see them, they couldn't do both tests they had hoped at the same visit, so postponed both of them for 6-8 weeks. Eventually, they found it. A growth. She needed surgery, fast, and that done, she was sent home. Apparently they knew it was cancer and told her and offered her chemo which she declined (we question now if she realized the ramifications of her choice, given her dementia at the time). She was sent home. Five weeks later, she was back in hospital with the same symptoms and still too weak, recovering from the first surgery, to undergo a second. The growth had returned, growing quickly and aggressively. She has a sarcoma and it is now systemic. It is terminal. She was in the ICU and has now been transferred to a hospice. There are good days and bad (on Sunday past, she did not awaken at all), but the doctors gave her anywhere from days to weeks left. We are visiting as much as we possibly can and trying to help the family get her affairs in order for the inevitable. It will happen; we just need to be prepared. Or as prepared as we can possibly be. The whole family is in shock and not dealing well with this terribly sad news. (By the way, if you know me personally, this is not yet public information so please do not post anything on FB or other social media about this. I would appreciate your consideration for this sensitive issue. Thank you in advance.)

VSG and Weight Loss

Now, as to my surgery and recovery… and my own accountability.

I had my Vertical Sleeve Gastrectomy performed at the Civic on February 3, 2014. Today is November 13. To date, I have lost 114 lbs. I go through long stalls -- weeks where I do not lose a pound – but I usually check my measurements or do a photo comparison (or clothing comparison) and I realize that in the stalls, I am usually losing or redistributing my body weight in other ways. It's pretty fascinating.

My operation took a mere 50 minutes and was without complication. I walked into the operating room and by the time they brought me to a semi-private room in the trauma ward to recover, I was able to get off the gurney and walk to my bed with assistance. It's a laparoscopic procedure, so I do not have a long incision, but rather I had five small incisions through which the surgeon removed approximately 85-90% of my stomach. I have a tiny sleeve of a stomach now that is about the size of a thick pen or narrow highlighter. It can hold 2-3 ounces comfortably, but much more than that makes me get the 'foamies.' That is when I start salivating quickly, as if I were going to vomit, I get lightheaded, my heart races a bit and I start to tear up at the eyes, swallowing hard to try to keep myself from being sick. I usually get up and walk it off, and after a burp/heave or two, it passes. It's happened a few times. Quite the learning curve! My new sleeve cannot handle milk very well, though cheese and yogourt are good. I am following my diet and eating protein forward, followed by veggies (only IF I have room).

In the last month or two, I've had a taste of popcorn and chocolate. I try to stay far away from the carbs to maximize my 'honeymoon' phase which can last for 12-18 months. But now and then, a taste is really nice. Much of my diet now consists of protein shakes for breakfast, some peanut butter for a snack, lunch is usually some meat or fish, a second snack of cheese or a pepperoni stick, supper would be protein with some sauce/dip to help it go down easy (e.g., hamburger patty with 1/3 cup of my homemade spaghetti sauce), and nighttime… is my downfall. I have to be very careful in the evenings. After Petite goes to bed, I tend to look for something to nibble on, more out of habit than anything else. I have found some good protein snacks but I need to be more diligent in choosing them rather than opting for a bite of sugar or carbs. Those are a dangerous, slippery slope! I do NOT want to go there!

I have had some incredible NSVs (non-scale victories) along the way. For example,

• I've gone from size 22/24 down to 10/12. I cannot recall EVER being in size 10/12 before. When I was 14, I was in size 14 as a child.
• I can cross my legs… something I've never been able to do. I can even do it on a plane!
• I can lower the table tray on a plane and still have room to move and bend; it doesn't rest on my stomach. I even had room on either side of my hips while on the plane. That's a FIRST for me in all my years of travel!
• I have oodles of room in movie theatre seats now; something that is novel. I used to lean over away from my seatmate so I didn't infringe on his/her personal space. That's hard on the back for a three-hour stretch!
• I can wear heels comfortably all day now. WOW! I was even able to buy boots with heels, off the rack at a REGULAR shoe store!!! OMG!
• I have had to readjust my seat, mirrors, armrests, etc., in my car to accommodate my new, smaller size.
• I can shop for hours and not get winded; not that I've done any shopping for myself really. My sister took me out and dressed me up but I'm sorta terrified to do it myself. I've no idea where to begin. After 30+ years of shopping at two or three stores exclusively, I do not even know what's popular anymore.
• I had to take off my wedding rings; they were falling off my fingers and I was afraid I would lose them. L
• My shoes are far too large on me. I need new ones for the most part. I never would have thought I would lose weight in my feet. But I truly have.
• My gold necklace hangs much lower on me than it should. I am loathe to shorten the chain (my parents gave me the chain, while Hubby gave me the pendant) but it looks kinda comical now.
• It hurts to sit on a hard chair. This is something I've never really experienced before but as someone who had lots of rear padding, I am really feeling my bones when I sit down on a hard surface. Ouch!
• I've lost somewhere around 65" off my body. I've not calculated it lately, but at last calculation it was 60+ inches. Pretty incredible.
• I am cold… ALL. THE. TIME. Seriously. I spent all summer freezing. I had a folded blanket on my side of the bed on top of the sheet, one blanket, and top cover. Hubby was so warm he'd kick off the bedding while I shivered. He broke down and bought me a heating pad. I think I'm in the market for a heated twin blanket actually. I cannot get warm at all and I sit in my office with a blanket over my lap and a wool sweater over my shirt. Brrr. I am officially going to FREEZE this winter. Guaranteed.
• I'm not quite as self-conscious in public anymore. As a morbidly obese person, you spend your life painfully aware that you take up too much space. And you try as much as possible to avoid shoving your mass in the face of others. It's overwhelming much of the time. It gave me a lot of anxiety. I sense that anxiety is diminishing, but it's being replaced by something else. Instead of thinking, "Oh God, I know everyone is judging me for my huge size," now I think, "Oh my, I hope no one can see the extra skin hanging (in whatever spot is visible at the time)." We definitely ARE our own worst critics. It's terrible. Body dysmorphia is a real thing, and I'm at the stage when I'm just starting to deal with it. Very hard.

There are more. Many, many more. But that's enough for now.

Lots of people have commented on my weight loss and I tell them the truth: I had surgery back in February and I've been working hard ever since. It's not easy. And I'm not done yet. I still have between 30 and 50 lbs that I would like to lose. I'm still technically obese. I want, for once in my life, to see a normal BMI, which for me means being 150 lbs or less.

I've come a long way, but this is just the beginning.

Heartbreaking Loss in January 2014

So while we wait for the outcome of the Ontario election to be determined.

You see, the NDP did not support the Liberal budget throwing things in disarray and forcing an election in mid-June. To date, only the Liberal platform specifies the inclusion of IVF. The NDP have waffled on the matter, and the PCs will not support it. Guess where my vote is going? D'uh. No brainer, huh?

Anyway, back to my blog.

At one point a few posts back, I briefly mentioned the huge loss we had suffered.

For those of you who are not animal lovers, fair enough. But I ask that you respect my particular feelings on the topic.

My fur babies.

Smudge and Shadow, Newfoundland, Christmas 1997

Smudge and Shadow. Brothers, from the same litter. Born in Japan in 1995, on August 25, they came into my life 7 weeks later as tiny, miniature, black balls of curious fuzz. And I doted on them.

Page-A-Day Calendar, 1997

My boys were inseparable. I almost named them Hook and Sook. Hook would have been Smudge; he has the physical trait of the kink at the tip of his tail that is frequently seen in purebred Himalayans (as his mother was. Gosh she was gorgeous. Long, white-haired, docile thing. A beautiful animal.). Shadow would have been Sook; so named because he FOLLOWED ME EVERYWHERE! To the kitchen. To the bathroom. If I sat down, he'd be in my lap. If I lay down, he'd be sleeping on me. When I gamed on the computer for hours into the late night, he found a way to adapt to the formation of my forearms and lay there as I moused and typed.

while pregnant with Petite, Shadow sleeping with me, February 2009

Hook and Sook became Smudge and Shadow. Smudge because of the white smudge on his lower belly; gosh he loves to have that rubbed and nuzzled! He's so affectionate. Shadow because he was my shadow. After all, he truly did follow me everywhere.

They loved the occasional bit of ham or tuna. They were inseparable. They slept together, groomed together, played together, traipsed around the house together, followed me together, and spent about 95% of their waking hours in each other's company. They were joined at the hip, as it were.

Smudge and Shadow, 2008

Shadow was my delicate kitty. Sweet. A little hesitant and fearful. But oh so affectionate! In his younger years he would jump into my arms from the floor. He did that to Hubby the first time Hubby came to our house and it shocked the heck out of both of them! Hubby to see a cat fly up to his mid-chest. and Shadow to realize that Hubby wouldn't catch him in time and he dropped back to the ground! I knew then and there that Hubby was a good guy and would fit into our life. If the cats like you, you're good by me.

Shadow 2009

Both boys, being of advanced age, and having no real other physical issues, began to show signs of kidney failure about two years ago at age 16. We've been managing their symptoms ever since. They continued to eat and drink well, but we gave them medicine to combat the kidney failure, and in the last year or so, a once-a-month B12 injection. But in the last five or six months, they began to vomit.

Well, Shadow began to vomit. And so it progressed. Just around Christmas 2013, I began to see slight traces of blood in his vomit. He must have been hurting so. Poor baby. He was still active though, so I didn't do anything about it.

Shadow and Smudge

In January, the day we left on our vacation, Hubby was in the car with Petite, bags packed, and I was locking the door. I had said goodbye to the boys (our dear neighbour Marc watches them when we are away; he's such a godsend) and turned to head out. At that moment, Shadow began to vomit again. And this time, as it had been once or twice earlier that week, it was a fair bit of dark reddish vomit. Blood. My heart was so heavy. But for a cat at 18 years of age, there are no heroics that will give him the quality of life he used to have. I couldn't put him through that. I stopped, wiped up the vomit, kissed him again and left to join the others in the car. We went on with our holiday.

During our vacation, Marc kept us updated. Three days before we were due to come home, Hubby got a text from Marc. Shadow was not coming to eat. Marc looked around for him, and found him in our bedroom closet, lying in a laundry basket on some of our clothing. He coaxed him out, and got him to eat a little, but he told us it didn't look good. Hubby and I were out at dinner with our friends when that text arrived, and we told Marc that there was nothing he could do, but to please keep us updated.

That was Thursday evening.

Shadow playing with a catnip toy, 2013

Saturday, two days later, we arrived back at home around 2 p.m. When Shadow did not meet us at the door, I knew it couldn't be good. Smudge was there, to-ing and fro-ing on our legs and suitcases, but Shadow didn't make a sound. I called him. Twice. Three times. And then I heard him coming slowly out of the bedroom to greet us. He looked frail. Eyes a bit glassy. Tired. I picked him up and he was already a bit cool to the touch, as compared to his brother. I cuddled him close. I brought him to the kitchen, hoping to give him some tuna and water, which he usually loves to drink, and coax him to have a little. No way. He wouldn't have anything to do with it. I put him down. and watched in horror as I realized he couldn't control his back legs any longer. He managed to walk. swaying a little on his legs, back and forth, and he returned to the bedroom and curl in the laundry basket again. I checked on him. And at that moment, I cried.

I called our vet, but they were closed of course (it was a Saturday after all) and as I had told them, there was no point in heroics. I would not put Shadow through that. I had loved him for all 18 years of his life and I could not put him in pain or subject him to invasive poking and prodding. He didn't belong in a vet's office, on a cold, steel table. He belonged with me. He knew I was home and I needed to be with him.

Shadow, summer 2013

I resolved to leave the luggage until time permitted me to handle the unpacking. Hubby took care of our daughter. I focussed exclusively on spending as much time curled with my fur baby, the cats ensconced in the bed with me or alternatively, me next to him in the closet, for the rest of the afternoon. He couldn't jump onto the bed although he came to the side of it and managed to put his forepaws on the covers, so I brought him up there and he curled in my lap a little, letting me snuggle with him. There, I tried to say my goodbyes. Or. to start to. Shadow snuggled with his brother, for what would be the last time. When he was done, he got up and tried to jump off the bed, but he couldn't do it himself, so I helped him. He got to the laundry basket in our closet again, and lay there, partially on the floor, head and upper body in the tipped up basket, surrounded by our clothing. He loved the softness of my pyjama pants; I'm glad they were there for him.

After about 15 or 20 minutes, he got up and came out. He meowed loudly a few times. I petted him, trying to soothe him. He was visibly agitated. He got in and out of the closet twice, and then I called Hubby to come to us. Petite was in bed by this time, so it was just me, Hubby and the two cats; Smudge on the bed, Shadow in the closet. Hubby moved things aside and sat with him in the closet a few moments, until about five or ten minutes later, when Shadow's breathing changed. It got raspy, ragged. Deep breaths followed by long pauses. I knew it was time. I said, "Do I need to be there?" and Hubby replied, "Yes. Yes you do."

Shadow and me, taking a nap, 2010

I got down with him, sitting beside him. The tears came. I stroked his silky, soft, shiny fur. I whispered to him, "It's okay Baby Shad. It's okay sweetheart. It's okay. You can go if you need to. I love you. I've always loved you. I know you have to go, and it's okay. It's okay." I think I repeated those phrases a hundred times; I think I was trying to convince myself that it was okay to let him go at that point.

His breathing got increasingly shallow, and he lifted his head one last time. I stroked his cheek. Stroked his nose and back down his head, smoothing his fur. My hands were on him at all times. I asked Hubby to get a towel for me and I draped it over my shoulder to pick him up and hold him in a position that he used to love. He was almost gone. and I needed to cuddle him.

I did just that. I held him in my arms as he took his last few breaths and slipped away. He had to go, and I had to let him.

And as he went, my heart broke. My Baby Shad was gone.

Shadow relaxing in the sun on his kitty perch, a favourite spot

After about half an hour, I lowered my baby Shadow and the towel into my lap to curl him there. I sat with him for about two hours. I couldn't bear to tear myself away. We righted the laundry basket and placed him, towel and all, in there for the night. I couldn't bear to have him far from me just yet. It would take time.

Shadow died on January 25, 2014, just after 11 p.m. surrounded by all the love I had to give. He had given me so much over the years. My boys were my constant companions. Through thick and thin, they had given me unconditional love and I returned it to them as good as they gave.

Something tells me he waited for us. He knew he was going to have to leave us, but he waited for us to get home. When we arrived home earlier that afternoon, when he heard our voices, sniffed our scents, curled in my arms, he knew. He just knew he could finally let go. And I will be eternally glad that he waited for me.

Smudge and Shadow 2005

I found a wonderful, caring, compassionate pet bereavement centre who helped me make arrangements. I have Shadow's ashes in an urn, and when the time comes, his brother's ashes shall join his. The two shall be together again someday; it's only right. My boys have always been together. I take comfort in knowing that part of me went with him. As a family, we all made contributions to a keepsake envelope that was cremated with Shadow, and I tucked in one of the grey, felt, catnip mice that Aunt B (who passed away a year and a half ago now) made for the cats. Shadow loved his catnip! Aunt B loved my boys too and I know she will take care of Shadow until I get to see him and cuddle him again.

Last photo of Smudge and Shadow together, January 25, 2014

Rest now dear Shadow. You gave me so much. I am grateful you waited for me to be there. But I know it was time. I love you my sweet Boo. I will see you again and so will your brother.  I promise. Go play in the sun my boy. You deserve the rest. I love you.

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When the time is right, I will get a tattoo to commemorate my boys. I have wanted it for years and after Shadow was gone, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. Now that I have a design in mind, when all is said and done, I will get that tattoo. It will be exactly what I need. I look forward to it, and I'll certainly show it off when it's done. 

Thank you for reading. If you have pets, hug them tightly on my behalf, and tell them how much they are loved. 

{This Moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual inspired by FindingChaos/Soulemama.

A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week.

A simple, special, extraordinary moment.

A moment I want to pause, savour and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment'

in the comments for all to find and see.

Two Years Ago

Two years ago today...

on August 25, 2009...

(on my EDD in fact)...

at 40 weeks exactly...

at 10:15 that evening...




my water broke.

I remember every moment, like it was yesterday. My mom and my aunt were upstairs. Hubby and I were in the basement; I was on my computer, copying MP3 files to my MP3 player for the hospital. The absolute last task I needed to complete to say I was 'ready' for whenever Petite made an appearance.

Hubby went upstairs, leaving me in the basement alone. I finished up the copying and took the SD card from my computer. And as I was logging off... pop.

I felt the water before anything else and I jumped up before it gushed everywhere, and went to the bathroom which was about 25 feet behind me. Yanking down my shorts, I sat down quickly on the toilet, baby moving vigorously in my belly. The liquid just kept coming, and coming, and coming. Non stop. I knew it wasn't pee; I could just tell. I just knew. I remember putting my hand over my mouth and thinking, "This is it. This is it. My water just broke! I'm going to have a baby." I was in awe. Totally amazed at the process. I remember it was pale/clear. Not yellow like urine. Or red to indicate a problem. I remember it got all over my clothing, a little on my chair, and more again on the bathroom floor. I remember being VERY excited.

But I was alone in the basement. And no amount of yelling would have brought anyone to me; they wouldn't have heard. So I waited. Water flowed. Eventually, I heard someone come downstairs. It was my aunt. She was coming to the washer and dryer, not far from the bathroom. I called to her through the walls and said, "Can you get Hubby please?" She said she would and went back upstairs with the basket of laundry. He came downstairs and I told him, "Come in." I unlocked the door for him, stretching from the toilet. He found me on the toilet, wet from the waist down. "I think I need some towels." He stared wide-eyed, "Your water broke?" "Yup. We're going to have a baby."

I soaked through the towels he gave me. I actually took a shower before we went to the hospital as labour didn't start yet and we had time that hour in the evening. But I remember those moments as clear as day. I wore my brown maternity capris and a blue/brown maternity shirt to the hospital. I was leaking water all the way (I had a towel stuffed down my pants, but that still didn't stem the tide!) and I wore a smile as wide as the sun. I'm sure I did. I didn't care who saw my wet pants. I really didn't. For I was about to have a baby. And THAT made everything perfect.

************

Today, August 25, 2011, Petite is about to turn 2 years old. I am planning a Dora-themed party for our backyard pool on Saturday, her birthday (yes, I was technically in 'labour' for 45 hours, but labour had to be induced).

Today, August 25, 2011, my two cats, my babies that I brought back from Japan in 1996, turn 16 years old. My boys are my furbabies. They are inseparable. They have lost a lot of weight since Petite's birth and are wary of her. But they still love cuddles and love from me. And I love them. I snuggle with them at night, and cuddle them (when I can) during the day. My babies are the best.

Today, August 25, 2011, my darling cycle buddy, Vee, is about to celebrate her little Boo's second birthday too. But she is also mourning yet another loss. She has been through so many amazing highs and lows. Realizing she and her sweet husband Max needed IVF to have a child. Finding out Max had cancer. Success at IVF; and a due date (the same as mine!). Wondering if Max would be alive to witness the baby's birth. Having their little Boo come into their lives. Watching cancer deteriorate her husband's body. When Boo was merely 9 months old, she said goodbye to Max as he slipped away. Mourning his passing. Celebrating his life with amazing art, with the help of other IF bloggers! Realizing she needed a new start and she found a new place to live. Watching her Mum deteriorate from cancer. And now... this week, she mourns the loss of her Mum. I know she is aching. I know she is in great pain and suffering from grief. Boo's Nonna didn't get to see their new house. She won't get to celebrate Boo's second birthday. Vee needs hugs. Oh so many hugs. Go say hello. Give her a hug. She needs as many as she can get right now.

Much love to all in blogland.