Mojo in Motion
An email from dear M.E. reminded me I owe you an update on the Mojo sitch. I mentioned that he had an ultrasound; results weren't definitive. There is some thickening of his stomach lining which may have been causing his vomiting, which could possibly be cancer (!) or something else, according to the vet. She suggested a series of options, ranging from doing nothing, to doing a biopsy of the stomach lining via an endoscope (a tube down his throat - I've actually had this done myself), to sending or taking him to the veterinary college in Charlottetown, PEI, for further investigation, to - and here she always couches her language very carefully - she "always leave[s] it up to the owners to determine how far they`re willing to go". This is code for euthanasia.
She also said that if we weren't going for further treatment options, steroid shots might mitigate inflammation of the stomach lining which might be causing the thickening and the vomiting.
All of this would be so much easier if cats were transparent!
We pretty quickly ruled out the more invasive and upsetting options including the biopsy and sending him to Charlottetown. We want to keep him around, but not at the cost of making him go through a series of really confusing and upsetting experiences. (Have I mentioned I've had the endoscope? Not. Fun. Even. Drugged.) We were somewhat dubious that the stomach condition was cancer since he was almost completely asymptomatic except for the vomiting and is gaining/maintaining weight. That left making a decision about trying steroid shots - a literal shot in the dark since we didn't even know if his stomach was inflamed.
Happily events overtook us. The vomiting stopped completely - perhaps in part due to him now getting sub-q fluids at home every other day and avoiding dehydration - and he has been in the best possible spirits and health for the past month.
Well, except for the 20 minutes or so every other day when we prepare and administer his sub-q. It is a misery for everyone involved, he tenses and struggles and fights and claws his poor Dad`s hands and wrists to bits, and I don't come away unscathed either. (Second-last treatment we administered the fluids to him in between alternately swabbing both our hands with paper towels so we didn't drip blood all over everything.) After fighting for five minutes or so, he usually becomes more-or-less resigned and tenses but doesn't actively fight, and we can hold him still enough to get the fluids into him. Then the needle comes out and he casually strolls to the kitchen to wait for the treats he knows are coming.
Aah, good times. We will go through this because it is so worth it due to his current quality of life. Outside of those hated sub-q sessions, he appears to be extremely healthy and happy. Healthier and more playful and happier than he's been in about a year, in fact.
Oh, and we're shopping for leather gloves for Husband.