Bad News

“I don’t like the look of those X-rays at all. It looks like cancer.”

My heart stopped. I looked down at my cat, Cosmo. I was having a hard time believing the veterinarian.

“Cancer?” I asked.

“It’s either cancer or systemic fungal infection. Either way, it’s grave news. But they have diffferent treatments, so we need to know what is really causing all of this.”

I looked down again, watching my 18-month old cat breathe much more rapidly and laborious than normal. It was unbelievable.

This appointment was a long one. The vet and his technician were in and out of the room, writing notes, listening to his heart, and telling me bad news. At one point, they retrieved some cells (read: stuck a huge needle in Cosmo and pulled out something that wasn’t blood) to look at under the microscope. My cat and I waited for a long time. As the shock of the situation wore off, it was replaced with heartbreak. The tears finally came, and I made no effort to stop them.

I texted my family, letting them know what was going on.

And then, in my brain’s typical fashion, I started thinking of all the things I should have done differently. This was my fault. I should have taken Cosmo in to see the vet months ago when he had diarrhea. I never should have let him go outside to play. I knew something was off with him. I should have kept that appointment before Christmas. I should have insisted on an X-ray a week ago. I never should have rationalized all his symptoms away. I ignored the signs and now he is going to die. I should have… why didn’t I… I knew something was wrong… this is because of me.

Ugh.

Sometimes, my thoughts go on auto-pilot. Blaming myself and feeling guilt and shame have been old friends, but I was able to see them for what they actually are—LIARS. I didn’t poison Cosmo, and I was doing everything I possibly could to help him now. In fact, those quiet moments in the vet clinic helped me have more empathy for anyone with a sick pet. I would have done anything to help Cosmo.

After a long time, the veterinarian came back. I braced myself. Surprisingly, he didn’t say what I was expecting.

“I can’t tell if it’s cancer or this fungal infection. He’s only 18 months old! Cancer just seems unlikely. So let’s stay optimistic and treat it like a fungus.”

For the first time at his office, I felt a glimmer of hope. I came home with a very sick cat, a bottle of anti-fungal medication, a 50/50 chance of survival, and some hope.

I won’t lie, we have said a great many prayers for our cat. I really hope he survives. It’s been one day, and I examine and evaluate his every move. He’s never been so spoiled with treats and whatever else he wants. Everyone in our house is desperate for any sign of healing, so we keep watching and hoping.

I did make sure to leave my guilt and shame at the vet’s office. Those weren’t helping me or Cosmo. And at the end of the day, no matter what the outcome, I want to help my cat however I can. ❤️