She's gone.

Pain and confusion was in her eyes.  We always regarded her as 'The Kitten'.  Innocence and fun and love in a striped coat.  But her eyes yesterday and today were old and sad and full of pain.  She was thin.  She moved slowly and clumsily.  Her coat was staring.  Another dose of meds made no difference.

I wonder if once Richard went into care her destiny had been fulfilled and she could go home again.  Dementia made Richard's caresses clumsy, sometimes although unintentially, rough.  Natalia never wavered.  Always purring, always glad to see him, never avoiding that heavy hand.  Even until the end she loved him and showed it.

I tried to tell Richard about her problems a week ago but he seemed to have lost the thread.  If he asks, she will be fine but I don't think he will.  He is more and more disconnected from reality. 

I have buried her in the yard.  When and if the black walnut tree seed sprouts, I will plant it there, a fitting monument to a wonderful cat.

 Last night I thought she'd cracked it.  She wanted dinner, meowed, reach up with her paws like always.  Only gave her a half portion as it had been so long since she'd eaten she might vomit if she ate too much.  As it was I saw her eating crumbs from Matisse's bowl.  Thank you! I said to whomever is the Protector of Cats and whatever It is that watches out for me.  Disaster averted.  

So when she wasn't waiting at the door this morning my heart plummeted.  And when she didn't stir from the chair until I vacuumed and even then she only walked, slowly, to hide in the laundry, it was obvious the miracle was a fluke.  Now, she sits hunched, as she has all day, in pain.  I've got the heater on even though it's not cold, trying to keep her comfortable.  She'd gone into the bedroom waiting for the afternoon sun that never came (it's overcast).  I carried her back to the living room.  She meowed, a piteous meow.  Gave her the meds this morning - were they the miracle? - to no effect.  

So her grave is half dug.  Will finish it today and ring the vets tomorrow.  She looks so sad.  It's just cruel to wait for the miracle that will not come.

 Natalia hasn't eaten, despite meds to make her feel better.  So basically she hasn't had a meal since last Sunday.  And it shows.  Her coat is rough and staring, she's concave rather than convex.  She doesn't sleep.  She's uncomfortable.  Best guess is kidney stones.  Could get surgery - put her through that and then have to do it again when the next stone comes through.  Or we could put her on a drip with morphine for days and 'hope' the stone passes.

Or I can put her down.  I'm hoping she isn't in too much pain now as I thought perhaps just another day or two would be 'nice'.  It's guesswork.  All of it.  Save that she can't go indefinitely without eating which is why Monday it ends.  Will request, as she's so timid, that she be given a shot of ketamine, sub cut which hurts little if at all, and after she's sedated, then they can put a catheter in and use lethabarb - which I know stings going in.  Want to make this as painless as possible.  

Will bury her in the front yard.  There's a rather sickly kaffir lime tree which has never thrived.  Will pull it out, make a nice deep hole, and one day down the track plant a bird attracting native or  fruit tree to remember her by.

Richard said today, "I'm not much help to you." And I cried.  Because I know about Natalia and he doesn't, and won't, because I've had about 3 hours sleep and because my poor darling husband, my rock, has these fleeting insights into what he was and what he is now.  

I am so tired of crying.

 Had to make a choice.  Had to choose whether I was going to continue to feel put upon, downtrodden, at risk, depressed, frightened and worried or whether I would tackle 'life' head on with confidence.  It's been a tough decision with a few bouts of tears as it's not just about Richard or finances.  We now have a sick cat in the mix.  Renal disease, no cure.  Renal disease along with her lifelong battle against crystals in bladder (and now possibly kidneys?).  So am having a struggle with the worry aspect of my choice as she's only 10, is adorable, loving and deserves to have a much longer happy life.

Still.  As soon as I squarely faced facts and made what decisions I could, it did become easier.  Spent $1000 in two days with no improvement.  Went in again today sans Natalia ... what other helpful information would terrifying her with another trip to vets get?  Had the 'cat' vet.  She listened to me.  I kept saying Fortekor and the other two vets said, no, her  protein levels didn't warrant it.  This vet said, yes, even though it's not what is usually done, it might held and won't hurt.

She didn't try and talk me into more tests.  She spelled out choices, actually spoke the unpalatable truth and said,  as an option, (nasogastro tube) for instance, isn't something she'd do with her own cat  - and gave clear guidelines of what could be done within financial and humane limits.  And if the things we're trying don't work I will have Natalia euthanized.  Hard heartbreaking decision - but long suffering with tests and  interventions (weekly IV fluids for example or fluids with morphine for days until possible kidney stone passes.... until the next one comes along -- that sort of business, ditto surgery for same, until next stone?)  No.  

Once I hardened up and stopped being such a whiny 'it's not fair' wuss, things lined up - like getting the cat vet, like getting an expensive medication for free because the med had been returned after 'Misty' had passed away - thank you Misty.  

Should qualify re cat vet.  The other vets are fine.  They're caring, conscientious, thorough, motivated - but a cat vet just knows.  

On Tuesday I see an osteopath.  Yay.  If treatment doesn't help I'm going to have myself euthanized...kidding.  Put off seeing anyone about 'this' for years.  Now it's acute and I shuffle around hanging onto things until 'it' eases.  When I'm warmed up I walk normally.  Walked from Pottsville to Hastings Point on a glorious day yesterday.  The sea was royal blue, clear and glassy save for the combers breaking froth on the beach.  Mikaela thought she was in heaven and ran and ran and ran.  And I walked just fine for two hours.  Hard to believe that when I stand up in the next half hour I will hardly be able to walk.  There's something going on with the ligaments joining my leg to my groin - which is why I didn't want to see anyone about it - such an awkward place to be examined.  But now the price for not getting it looked at is too high as it I am also having trouble sleeping.  

Applied to volunteer at the local pound, cat section, for Jobseeker.  It's a no kill pound.  Probably a few thousand other applicants but it doesn't hurt to try.  There are some gorgeous looking cats, a smoke tabby and a bengal but no Siamese.  Some of have been there a long time.  Would be nice to try and encourage trust in the timid ones.  But we'll see.  Fingers crossed.

 I know the sparrows and flowers of the field don't worry about their next meal and I'm trying, really trying, not to be freaked out but have just read the contract I'm to sign for Richard's care.  $95 a day,  $736 a week, nearly $3000 a month.  Our income is just over $4000 per month.  So a thousand a month to live on from which I immediately deduct $520 for agistment.  Ok, so still $500 a month to live on roughly...but of course it is impossible.  Food for cats (special food for urinary dramas), dogs, horses, bottled gas, fuel, private medical for Richard - he's had it for 30+ years - and now is the time he might actually need it....so I'm a bit gobsmacked.  Yes, we do have savings and that will pay for 4 years or so but by the time this is over there won't be much left and I'll still have to find money to pay the rates, insurance, car rego blah blah blah.  

Am spoiled rotten - even at my poorest - and there were times I was pretty poor - I never worried about being able to feed myself or any animals I had.  Borrowed money once to pay a vet bill but paid that back straight away.  Another vet, different cat, let me pay off my bill.  And wouldn't you know, Natalia, the youngest and healthiest, is off her food so will have to take her to the vets tomorrow.  That will be $500 easy.  

Am allowing myself this tiny panic - to hopefully get it out of my system.  The Universe has always had my back so will again.  There's always been enough.  Plenty in fact.  There are billions of people who would give their right arm to be in the position I'm in; own home, a car, food in the pantry, money in the bank.  

Nevertheless will go to Centrelink tomorrow with documents, my hastily written budget and see if they can ease the burden a bit.  Also, I put in for Jobseeker and never heard a thing back so can chase that up too.  If I get Jobseeker I can volunteer somewhere for a couple of days a week and be paid for it - which would help enormously.  

Tomorrow is the first day I'll get to see Richard so that's good.  He's had to tough it out during this lockdown and seeing a familiar face will cheer him up.  I hope.  Plus the vets and have to buy hay as well so a busy day.  

Still swollen and bruised from Mikaela crashing into my knee - did I write about that? - hit me at full speed within 5 seconds of being let off the lead at the beach - my first visit in over six months.  But it improves every day - have to be mindful to place my foot carefully with every step, no yoga (damn!) but can do the afternoon walk so it's all good.

Might be worth repeating those few words.  IT IS ALL GOOD!

 

 Life marches, ambles, zig zags, hurtles on with no built in observation decks to stop and look back on where I've been.  Because I don't make the time to digest what has happened, it continues to affect me even though I might not be aware of it.

For instance, had to call the Tax Office to find out my tax number.  Everything has been in Richard's name.  I was 'spouse' and my tax number wasn't recorded, although I had one from when I was still working.  Just had no idea where to look for it.  Anyway, explaining to the woman on the phone why I couldn't find my number.  Said my husband was in care...and promptly burst into tears.  Hadn't been sad or depressed.  It just came out of nowhere.  Then again this morning.  A call from someone at Heritage to fine tune caring factors, all very businesslike - and again, I choked up and couldn't speak.  

I may think the worst is over with, that the grieving is just background noise but suspect emotions are not that tidily disposed of.  It isn't a case of, well that's finished, on to the next thing!  It may never be 'finished'.  

Yet a part of me looks forward, quite shamelessly.  Was dropping off more of Richard's clothes to the Hospice Shop.  A tall man was helping his mother down the sidewalk.  She was tiny, head down watching where she put her feet.  He had a hand under her elbow, guiding and reassuring her at the same time.  

He was beautiful.  My age?  Nicely proportioned, nicely but not pretentiously dressed.  Kind kind face.  We smiled at one another over the top of her head, just a normal smile of I see how nice you are to your mum and gee isn't it a nice day?  After that I didn't dare look at him again.  He was too attractive and I didn't want to be attracted so I crossed the street without a backward glance.  But his image stayed with me.  That broad chest just begging to have my head resting against it.  God.  

I suppose it's only because although I'm not lonely part of me resents being thrust into the world all on my lonesome.  Even though I've been the carer for years, Richard was here, a shadow of my love and protector but still present.   Now it's me and the cats.  

So I see this gorgeous male, and it was the maleness of him that was so riveting - and even though he's probably got a wife and kids and grandkids and all the accoutrements of a long life well lived, I hanker.

And cringe. 

 At least six months, perhaps more, have passed since I've been to the beach.  The beach is only 35 minutes away.  No fault but my own.  But I went yesterday.  Took one friend and met another there.  With Mikaela of course.  Warm day, sunny, west wind blowing so the combers were glassy.  Late afternoon sun gilding the sea and dunes and beach with gold.  Perfect.  Looked forward to letting Mikaela display her goofy side and her incredible beauty as she stretches out in that graceful greyhound gallop.

WIthin 10 seconds of letting her off the lead, in an excess of joie de vivre she'd slammed into the side of my legs knocking me to the ground and straining the tendons around my left knee.  The pain took my breath away.  Give me a minute I kept saying.  Just a minute.  When they helped me up I could walk, with difficulty.  The more I walked the better it was so we walked for over two hours.  

Then drove home, stiffened up and in agony getting out of the car.  Pain is relative.  My right leg which has been so bad I almost called the osteopath yesterday, is now my 'good' leg.  

Hilarious really.  

A bit of reaction last night, teeth chattering, some shock setting in?  But this morning, better than expected.  Am mindful of every step and I move very slowly, but I can move.  So with time and care will be back to normal before I know it.

Mikaela, bursting with energy and usually a black streak in the first throes of freedom on the beach, crouched in front of me while I was down, my butt getting wet in the sand.  Did she know?  Was my aura, for want of a better word, jagged and sparking with white hot pain?  I'll never know.  But am sure she never meant to hurt me.

Heritage again in lockdown with a gastroenteritis outbreak.  So got to see Richard last Friday and then it was shut down again.  Think of him every day.

Don't think I'll ever quite come to terms with him 'in there' while I am out here.  I know, I know but still....