Ho hum.
So, life has been a whirlwind of events lately - getting a job, looking for an apartment, putting down a deposit on my apartment this afternoon, facing the reality that I have to apartment shop and clothes shop tomorrow before heading back to Appleton on Sunday before (gulp) work on Monday.
In the midst of all this, I'm facing a personal crisis.
My cat is dying.
For all of you who think that this may be so over dramatic, that it's just a cat, fuck off.
I've had my cat, Bear, since I was 6. It was a promise gone wrong on the part of my parents, but now I think all of us are glad that they made a promise to a 3-year-old that she could get a cat when she was 6 (they hoped I would forget, but I didn't).
My cat had a growth, a benign growth in her mouth about six years ago. We took her to the vet, the vet cut it out, and it was gone, until August of this year. Now that benign growth is cancer, and since I've been home for just over a month, the tumor has gone from looking like a bee sting to a full blown tumor. On my scrawny, 16-year-old Bear, it looks huge. And it got bigger just since Monday.
And now the vet says that we need to take her in, that it's most likely gotten infected, that it's painful, and that soon she won't be able to eat or drink.
And now my family has to decide whether to take her in on Saturday (tomorrow), or sometime next week. For me that means that either I have to say goodbye to my cat tomorrow, or I have to leave for Appleton on Sunday knowing that I'll never get to see my cat again.
I almost wish that I would wake up tomorrow and find that she has died in her sleep. I don't want to have to take her to the vet to have them put her down - she hates the vet and cries whenever she has to go. But I don't want her to be in pain anymore either.
Decisions like this totally suck. And I suck at making decisions, too.
And on that note, I'm going to wrap this up.
- posted by L. @ 11:58 PM