Caretaker's Guilt
Mar. 14th, 2008 01:46 pm I suppose this should wait until next Monday, but I've been feeling it for at least a week and it deserves to be talked about. This coming Monday, the 17th, is the first anniversary of Dinah's being diagnosed with geriatric feline kidney failure. She was losing weight fast. "Aggressive" treatment consisted of a dose of gastrin management every night (it's amusing that both Dinah and I are both on omeprazole) and 100ml of water injected under her skin between the shoulder blades.
The veterinarian said that she'd probably last a month or two without it, or six to eight months with it. If we went "aggressive," he said, the end would come much, much quicker when it did since instead of a slow buildup of renal toxins over weeks, it would happen more or less within a few days when her kidneys finally did shut down. Omaha and made the decision to do the aggressive treatment-- we loved our old cat and, besides, what a great lesson for the kids, that you don't abandon someone just because their care has become onerous.
But it's been more than six to eight months. It's been a year. And I look at her and think to myself, "The doc said it would be a gentle, painless decline. You're not supposed to be getting better. You're not supposed to be putting on weight!" I immediately feel guilty for thinking that, and I understand that it's a common thing for caretakers to feel, the whole "I had this much time allocated to this part of you, and now you're taking more than your fair share" moment.
I do love the poor old fuzzball, even when she pees on my gym clothes, the laundry, goddess knows what else. I've become a master with the steam cleaner. And we have to work extra-hard to keep her litterbox clean because overcharging her kidneys means, well, you can guess what it means. So we soldier on. Enjoying her presence, even when she's so demanding about cuddles and hugs, taking care of her. And feeling a little guilty every time we grump over our responsibilities toward her.
The veterinarian said that she'd probably last a month or two without it, or six to eight months with it. If we went "aggressive," he said, the end would come much, much quicker when it did since instead of a slow buildup of renal toxins over weeks, it would happen more or less within a few days when her kidneys finally did shut down. Omaha and made the decision to do the aggressive treatment-- we loved our old cat and, besides, what a great lesson for the kids, that you don't abandon someone just because their care has become onerous.
But it's been more than six to eight months. It's been a year. And I look at her and think to myself, "The doc said it would be a gentle, painless decline. You're not supposed to be getting better. You're not supposed to be putting on weight!" I immediately feel guilty for thinking that, and I understand that it's a common thing for caretakers to feel, the whole "I had this much time allocated to this part of you, and now you're taking more than your fair share" moment.
I do love the poor old fuzzball, even when she pees on my gym clothes, the laundry, goddess knows what else. I've become a master with the steam cleaner. And we have to work extra-hard to keep her litterbox clean because overcharging her kidneys means, well, you can guess what it means. So we soldier on. Enjoying her presence, even when she's so demanding about cuddles and hugs, taking care of her. And feeling a little guilty every time we grump over our responsibilities toward her.

no subject
Date: 2008-03-14 09:00 pm (UTC)Have you considered that it might have been a misdiagnosis?
no subject
Date: 2008-03-14 10:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-14 09:04 pm (UTC)I dread having Sugar reach that stage. All my cats so far have either wandered off to die or been taken by predators (or the one who forgot how to get home and adopted a family down the road), but Sugar's likely to stick around for a good long time.
See, you are good people!
no subject
Date: 2008-03-14 09:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-15 04:31 am (UTC)We've been spending the past year cleaning up "spots" out of the carpet. And our clothes. But the clothes are easier to wash and the stains come out better.
The best part though, is that it was pretty much entirely our fault for not making her litterbox a comfortable place to be. She might have been able to handle the stress of moving just fine, but with the baby coming immediately after the move... well once he started to crawl she was afraid of being attacked in that dark closet apparently. Now that the closet door is gone and a nightlight is in the hall, she seems to be behaving herself much better now.
I just wish that I had googled this about 8 months ago when the problem *started* happening, rather than suffering with it for so long.
no subject
Date: 2008-03-16 04:21 am (UTC)