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Sonny's Oral SCC Thanksgiving, 2001This year, I had the misfortune of having a tooth pulled on the day before Thanksgiving. A bit groggy from the experience, I was sitting in bed, petting Sonny when I saw what looked to be encrusted black drool coming from the site of his mouth. At first I thought it was uncharacteristic messy dining. I cleaned it off with a Kleenex. But then, a few hours later I saw it again.November 24, 2001Still discomforted by the sight of the black-colored drool, I called my veterinarian for an appointment. Sonny's doctor was not in, but he was able to see another vet for a checkup. One look inside of his mouth revealed an infected fang on the same side where the drool had been. He would need to have that tooth pulled, at least, and then the whole lot cleaned. Blood was taken, to make sure that he would be able to sustain the anesthesia, since Sonny was 18 years old.November 28, 2001I received a message saying that Sonny's blood looked good, incredibly good for a cat his age.December 5, 2001At 10:00 AM I brought Sonny in for the dental appointment with our trusted vet. She had a way of putting him at ease, even on the metal examination table. Sonny was purring when I said goodbye, with plans to pick him up that evening. At 2:00 PM, a missed call on my cell phone. It had been on, but didn't ring. I had been out to lunch with a good friend and saw two messages. They were both from our vet. She had found a mass under his tongue when doing the dental work. She wanted to know if I wanted to have her remove it and have it biopsied while he was under. The second call was she again. She was concerned and wanted to hear back. That was almost an hour before. I called back that very moment, to learn that she had already finished with him. We discussed his going back under. She was familiar with this type of mass. She said it looked like Squamous Cell Carcinoma. I don't know if I heard much of anything after the word: Carcinoma. She was concerned about putting him under again, but we agreed that if he did well overnight, she would go back in there and remove the mass the next day. He did do very well, and I picked him up the following evening. We wouldn't know anything until the biopsy results were back, but there was something about the tone of her voice. I had started to tell family and few close friends. Sonny might have cancer. But, still I hoped, the results would come back clean.December 8, 2002The results from the biopsy were due back. I was nervous about this all day long, and even though I knew I wouldn't speak to the vet until later in the day, I carried my cell phone around, anticipating. I was preparing myself for bad news and hoping for good. The day was rainy, cold. I did my errands all day, clutching the phone. Finally, at 9:00 I went over to my partner's house and was told that she had spoken to the doctor. Her face was very still. He has the squamous cell cancer. The vet wanted me to call right away. I felt hysterical, wasted. How much time? Six months. It would more likely be three. A very aggressive form of cancer. My vet was angry that such a horrible disease had happened to such a wonderful cat. I was sick. I went home to Sonny that night and crumpled on the floor beside him. It seemed impossible, and for a while it truly did, that the being I had spent so much time with, seemed my other half almost, was going to die. And I couldn't stop it from happening.Mid to Late December 2002The first few weeks after Sonny's diagnosis were very difficult ones for me. I would cry at the sight of him. Someone close to me had lost a dog years ago and it was devastating to her as well. Some people form bonds to animals that are as strong, more purely good, than those with family. I had been that way since childhood. An animal-person. A close relationship with an animal is almost like a secret love. You can tell them anything, and do, and they hold these secrets for us. Sonny was a very solid secret keeper. As a cat, he was solid, big, thick. He and I had found a rhythm over the sixteen years we had been together, and it was reliable, mutual and utterly perfect for me. Gradually, I began to integrate the horrible fact of Sonny's illness. Admittedly, some of the pain had to do with the fact that I couldn't stop this from happening. I couldn't be the miracle worker, his God. Just his caretaker, and gradually accept that I could only help him to maintain his quality of life. Other than that, I could only accept. And slowly I did. Strange thing, though, I didn't look up squamous cell on the Internet. I work with the computer as a profession, and look up everything. Not this. For some reason, I had trouble remember the name squamous cell. I didn't want to know. Some of the things that made a tremendous difference: - Knowing that it was ok to feel as sadly as I did - Having a veterinarian who I really trusted (this was huge) - Understanding that I could do things to help his quality of lifeJanuary 2002For a while things seemed to go smoothly. My vet had removed the mass when she gave him the biopsy. It was gone for now. He seemed normal. Better than normal. With such a limited amount of time, my mother insisted that I feed him Fancy Feast (that's what he really likes, more than the health food she said, give it to him). So, I had a closet full of Fancy Feast and he was eating. Sonny even dealt with co-habiting with another cat, when long-term moving plans materialized and my partner and her 18 year old cat moved in. Sonny knew who was boss. All the while I kept an eye on his tongue, but could see nothing. I was relieved to learn that my veterinary hospital made house calls. While I couldn't see our regular doctor (knee problems made the four flights treacherous), she recommended someone else, a very positive recommendation. I took her up on it, and felt relief. That was one thing I could do. Home care. He could have checkups in his favorite chair. We had our first visit with the doctor, who visited with both cats. She took a look under Sonny's tongue and said it was there. She could see the mass, but we were lucky to have excised it early on. It hadn't grown as quickly as she had feared. And he looked so good.February 2002The doctor made another house call on the 5th. Of course, some part of me was wishing that somehow the tumor had stopped. His case would be the exception. I would have given anything. But the doctor came again and saw him in his chair. She lifted up his tongue, and this time she was able to show it to me. I was horrified just to see it, to witness the disease. It was the size of a small marble and surprisingly red. It was on the opposite side of the tongue than I had thought. It was there. Keep an eye on it. She left me with needles for injecting him with pain killer if it got too distressing to him. I made another appointment with her for a week later. I was determined that he would not have to suffer too much pain, and I knew she would keep better track of him than I would. She came back on the 12th, and I saw the tumor again. It had grown. But I hadn't even thought of using the needles. He seemed fine, doing all of the things that a healthy cat would. He was eating. Sitting in his chair. During this time, the doctor had given me an antibiotic. A few days after he had started taking it, he looked great. Full of energy, utterly himself. But then he started wearing down, slowly. Toward the end of the month, he suffered a decline. He was starting to move his jaw uncomfortably. Still eating, it was interfering. Also, one day it started bleeding. When I first saw the bright red, I thought it was the tumor, but it was the blood, drops. I called the veterinarian and reported what we had seen. Drops of blood. She prepared an envelope containing a Chinese herb that would help stop the bleeding, which it seemed to. A little more than a week later, I came home from work to find his mouth dripping blood. I called the veterinarian again, and she said to bring him in. My trusted doctor was in and she would see him. That was a relief. Of course, I was afraid that we had crossed over some threshold and I was afraid I wouldn't be bringing him back home. But we did come home that time. Apparently, this type of tumor ruptures. I was to continue giving him the herbal pill and the antibiotic. It was getting harder to administer the oral medications. He was becoming more protective of his mouth.March 2002By the beginning of March, the blood, mixed with a thick saliva was a near constant sight and smell around his mouth. It smelled infected, like disease. Wherever he placed his head, he left traces of this bloody mix behind. Such a clean cat, I could tell he was bothered by cleaning himself with this bloody substance on his tongue. Still, he did it. Eating was becoming more difficult, but he hadn't stopped. He was still eating, though slower and much less. I could often hear him, repositioning his tongue inside of his mouth. He was having a hard time finding a comfortable resting place for his tongue. The tumor had grown so that I saw it every time I gave him his medications.March 9, 2002The night before I had woken to him several times. He was making slurping sounds and he could find no way to hold his tongue comfortably. In the morning he did eat some food, which I took as a good sign. But he was clearly worn and saddened by what was happening to him. He had an appointment for the following week, but I wasn't sure at all that he would make it. I decided that I didn't want to watch him go out in pain. He had lived 18 wonderful, happy, proud years. I knew I had choices and didn't want to cause him suffering. Friends of mine who had been through this sort of horror told me that could be my one consolation, that I could be part of his passing in a humane way. I could help him to die. And so I called my veterinarian, knowing that she would be in and said that I wanted her to see him. I think we both knew without saying it. The two hours before my appointment were the slowest, saddest hours of my life. I didn't know anything for sure, but I had a sense that this was our last time together in the apartment. He was secure in his chair, but he wasn't comfortable any longer. He rested in the chair and I walked between the chair and my desk restlessly, petting him, telling him how much I love him, over and over. I also took the time to look up this illness, finally on the web. I had been afraid to look, but now I had to. I had to borrow from the experience of others, and I found the only trace of comfort that I could in these stories. Sonny passed away at the veterinarian's later that day. He was peaceful, surrounded by love. I miss him terribly. But I am very grateful for the time that he was here and that somehow we crossed paths for such a long time.Kim |
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