"...I'm dreaming of you tonight. Tomorrow, I'll be holding you tight..."
I wish these words were true... they're half true... I'm just missing the "holding you tight" part... I know that it will also never happen... ever again.
I'm closing in on the one year anniversary of Sylvester's passing. Time does fly. It was only one year ago this week where I played doctor with Sylvester in ways I never thought I would. Administering insulin to him on a daily basis had numbed me over the years. It became routine and a part of life for him and for me. I was his friend, his father, his companion, and his doctor. I knew Sylvester was going to pass on one day. I just didn't think it would happen so soon and so unexpectedly. I knew his diabetic condition had worsen when he was diagnosed with lesions under his right front arm. Before he was diagnosed I was told to expect cancer. I cried about it, but continued his antibiotics and his other meds religiously. He got better after about two weeks and the lesions were gone.
That incident had left a mark in me. It was like a sign for me to expect the worst as he aged. Three to four months later, he was diagnosed with kidney failure. Wanting to do the most for him and the best for him, I decided that we should try kidney dialysis. I wasn't afraid of the thick two inch needle I had to insert under his furry skin. He wasn't afraid either. Sylvester wanted to live and I wanted him to live. It was that simple. It's funny... that fur-ball wasn't afraid of a thick two inch needle, but would sometimes run away when I had to give him his insulin. I guess when you know you would die from lack of treatment, you would rather endure the brief pain... or perhaps, he was simply too weak to run.
For almost one week, twice a day, I would lay Sylvester on my kitchen counter to give him his treatment. I hung the fluids from a chain that was suspended from my kitchen ceiling. The chain used to suspend a houseplant. I would pet Sylvester's back gently and slowly to comfort him first. When he least expected it, I would quickly twist, snap, and pull off the cover to the needle and simultaneously grab the fur off his back to form a little triangle tent where the needle would be inserted. He never flinched. I would open the valve to let the fluids flow and when a bump the size of a small lemon formed under his skin, I would stop the fluids and remove the needle. The fluids was suppose to help flush the kidneys, which of course caused him to wet himself.
He was strong, but his body was too tired to respond.
The night before he passed was the longest period of time we had spent together without letting each other out of sight. It was also a night that I have difficulty blogging about over a year ago. I said I would finish, but I just couldn't. This would be my third attempt to talk about that night... I had originally broken up the night into several "acts" and "scenes", because that's how I remembered it. It all happened in such an unrealistic realistic way... much like a Shakespearean play. I decided to keep the format.
Today is day four that I'm writing this blog...Act I, Scene I: The Door MatI came home from the gym on a Thursday evening around 10:30-11pm. Both my roommates were either fast asleep or in their rooms doing their own thing. I found Sylvester laying on the front door's door mat, with his face facing the door as if he was looking or waiting for me. He looked tired and sickly, worse than the condition I left him a few hours prior. He only had came home from the animal clinic after dialysis treatment a day before. He was breathing these long drawn out slow breathes. He did get up and walk a little towards me as I walked around the house. A much better condition than two days before.
He still hadn't eaten anything yet. I sat on the kitchen floor and I gently picked him up and caressed him. He stared blankly back at me; motionless and limp. I mashed up his specially formulated cat food that cost $6 a can and drew the food into a plastic syringe. I pried opened his mouth and slowly squirted the food into the side of his mouth. Sylvester attempted to swallow but started gagging instead. I quickly squirted some water into his mouth. This whole process went on for about 10 minutes. I gave him as much food as I could and gave him all his meds. I quickly hopped into the shower to freshen up and to change into my PJs.
Act I, Scene II: The Call For HelpWhen I returned to find Sylvester, he was still laying down on the kitchen floor. I held him tight. He looked more lifeless with each minute. I decided to take him to the animal hospital.
I called the animal hospital's emergency line only to find out that the animal hospital had moved to downtown Brooklyn; far away from where I was. I didn't know how to get there at all. I called all the other clinics I could find, but I couldn't turn up anything. I really wanted to head towards the animal hospital, but it was raining real hard outside. With my inability to drive on highways at night, fear of getting lost, and the pouring rain condition... I knew I was dead in the water. I picked up Sylvester once again, sat on the kitchen floor, and started caressing him; rocking back and forth to comfort him. I started to cry very hard silently, knowing that I was letting him down.
Not knowing what to do next, I decided to call my ex in California, something I didn't do often because I know his boyfriend doesn't like me, and I didn't want to put my ex on the spot and get him in trouble either. This time I thought, "Screw him. I've done nothing worthy of his hate towards me", so I called my ex. His phone just rang and rang. He didn't pick up his phone. I hung up the phone and started crying even harder. I felt so helpless like a dad watching his son die a slow painful death. I rocked Sylvester back and forth and whispered repeatedly in his ears, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry Sylvester. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I'm sorry. Please for give me. I'm sorry."
I just sat there with Sylvester and cried; occasionally hoping that my ex would call me back. I even briefly fantasized that he would walk through the front door to come save Sylvester. I soon gave up and knew we were alone. We only had each other and death was eminent. I had to remind myself for a split moment that the ex had left for good over a year ago. I guess at the time, my heart was still attached and couldn't differentiate between reality and fantasy. I was still too reliant on him.
Drifting in and out of a hopeless daze, I came to realize that I didn't want to watch Sylvester suffer a slow death. I briefly thought about suffocating him with my hands. I even imagined myself smashing his head in, much like how my seventh grade biology teacher, Mr. Yodice, smashed a mouse's head in before feeding him to the classroom pet toad. Then I snapped out of my nightmare and accepted the fact that I didn't have it in me to give him peace. I told him, "I'm sorry" again that I couldn't end it for him.
I closed my eyes and I prayed.
Today is day five that I'm writing this blog...Act II, Scene I: The BlockadeWhen it was past midnight, I knew I had to at least do my best to keep Sylvester comfortable. I brought him upstairs to my bedroom and set up a blockade in the hallway, just in case he got up and wandered down the stairs by accident. I put him in his bed and covered him with a towel. He laid there with his head turned towards me. His gaze was so tired and motionless. Every 30 minutes or so he would attempt to get up and move further into the room; only to collapse, each time he had wet himself. Fearing that he was becoming dehydrated and that he may have elevated glucose levels causing him nerve pain, I squirted more water into his mouth and gave him a small dosage of insulin. Moments later, he threw up the food he had ate and gasped loudly with his eyes wide open. I quickly turned him on his side as I went to get some paper towels to clean him up. His eyes were wide open with fear and shouted pain. If Sylvester could speak, he would have said, "Kill me."
Act II, Scene II: Let Me Be CloseWhen he seemed a little more at ease, I placed him on the floor about three feet from my bed. I crawled into my bed on my stomach and hung over the foot of it to watch him intently. He seemed like he was dozing off a little, then he got up and stumbled towards my hand. I watched him with such sorrow in my heart that I can't begin to describe it in words. He was only a few inches away from my hand when he collapsed. He extended his left paw for my hand.
Act II, Scene III: Let Me DieI started crying again as I reached for his paw. I placed my left hand under his paw to let him know that I was there. I was under the notion that he may not be able to see me at this point since his stare wasn't directly at me anymore. I said, "Sylvester. I'm here. I'm sorry. I don't know what else to do. I'm sorry. I know you are in pain. I love you. You know you are going to die, right? I'm sorry. Are you ready to go?" As I asked the question, Sylvester pulled himself a bit closer and responded by tapping my hand three times and took a long drawn out breath. By now, my eyes were all blurried from the tears that were streaming down my face and had created a small puddle at the foot of my bed. I said, "Okay. I understand." He kept his paw in my hand and I noticed his eyes where watery too. I petted him with my right hand and I said, "It's going to be okay." We had a mutual understanding that it was all coming to an end.
Act III, Scene I: A Call To Doctor DeathAfter what seemed like eternity, morning finally came. Sylvester wasn't moving beyond the point where he had to, unless he had wet himself. I called the animal clinic as soon as it was opened, but was turned away because the doctors where not coming in until 12 noon. I begged for some vet assistant to at least look at him, but was only told to come at 12 noon. I knew this was the end of the line for Sylvester, so I called my youngest sister to let her know that she should come over to see Sylvester for the last time.
Today is day six that I'm writing this blog...Act III, Scene II: Emergency CareWhen my sister arrived, we both spent time with Sylvester; petting him and just staring at him. We both didn't know what else to do for him. When it was finally around 11:45am... we both rushed Sylvester to the animal clinic a block away.
When we arrived, I informed the heavy set lady receptionist that I called earlier and that Sylvester had to be seen right away without delay. She stared at me and gave me a lazy answer, "Please have a seat and fill out these forms." The forms were forms that I had been filling out all week long; basically they said that I would paid for all expenses and if I abandoned Sylvester at the clinic, he would be handled according to state law for abandoned animals. In this case, it would be death.
A few minutes later, a vet technician ushered us into one of the medical rooms to meet the doctor. Upon first examination, the doctor said, "My God! He is so cold! Quick, get him a heating pad. He is in shock. I need to draw blood... I can't find a vein in his leg, I have to draw blood from his neck. It'll be quick. I will shave some fur off first. It's not going to hurt him."
"Okay."
"It's okay kitty... it's not going to hurt. He's so cold."
As those words took root in me. I felt even worst. "He's so cold", I repeated to myself. Why didn't I think of keeping him warm or even covering him with a blanket or something? That was what I should have done... the least I could have done! Why didn't I think of that?? We always cover our sick patients to keep them warm. I've done that hundreds of times when I volunteered at Coney Island Hospital. Why didn't I do that for my poor sick baby?? I was so upset at myself.
"My God. His blood is coming out purple. He needs oxygen. Boost it up on high. He's so cold. Fill a glove with hot water and put it under him."
The Russian lady vet put Sylvester's purple blood into a tiny machine that would spit out results in about 15 minutes. As we all waited for the machine to spin and analyze his blood, the Russian vet told me to be prepared to put him to sleep if the results were bad. Everyone stood around the examination table staring at Sylvester with the respirator over his snout and patches of his fur missing from his neck and legs. He laid still, limp, and zoned out. I kept questioning myself why didn't I think of keeping him warm. I hated myself for that.
The machine stopped the humming sound and started printing a small sheet of paper with the results. The STUPID vet couldn't interpret the results!!! She opened the glass cabinets behind her and started to look up what the numbers meant!! She cracked open two to three huge books and started reading. The two vet technicians sighed and started to shake their heads in disbelief. Five minutes later, she asked to show me the results while the vet technicians continued to sigh and shake their heads. Apparently the vet was new and I'm not surprised if she was fresh off the boat either.
"His glucose levels are good, so the insulin you gave him was good. His potassium levels are good (which meant his meds worked in removing the excess potassium), but the toxins in his body are very high."
In fact, his toxin levels was like 50 to 100 times too high.
"Basically this means, Sylvester has no kidney functions at all."
Act III, Scene III: PeaceStaring at Sylvester's cold lifeless body, I decided it was time to let him go. He stayed as long as he could in my life and prolonging his life any longer for my selfish needs would be cruel.
Today is day seven that I'm writing this blog...I took a brief moment and told the vet that I wanted to euthanized Sylvester.
"Could we spend some time with him before we do it?"
"Sure. Of course. Take as much time as you need. I'm sorry."
My sister and I took Sylvester into a small room/closet and we both sat there by Sylvester's side. We slowly petted him and scratched his cheeks. We both started to reminisce the happier days when Sylvester was still young and energetic. We both took turns holding him some more and whispering in his ears as we choked up in tears. Ten minutes into our final moments with him, Sylvester gasped for air and let out a bone chilling squeak. Ten minutes was just not enough to say our good byes, but he was in so much pain. We said our last prayers and told Sylvester to look for his feline family in heaven and that we would never ever forget him.
I called the vet technicians and signaled to the Russian vet that we were ready to send Sylvester on his way to greater peace. The vet technicians all had a sad face and were also teary eyed too. I guess they got to know Sylvester over the past few days he checked in. The Russian vet was calm and reached for the drugs to make Sylvester's cocktail. She explained to me and my sister how the drugs were going to work.
"The drugs would first make Sylvester go to sleep and then stop his heart and his lungs. It would be painless. He wouldn't feel a thing."
It all sounded too much like an execution for a prisoner. "Okay. How long will it take?"
"Oh. It is quick. About a minute or less."
Gosh... a minute or less... and he would be gone forever.
"Are you ready?"
My sister and I choked up again; not wanting to let him go. We continued to pet him. "It's okay Sylvester. It will be okay. We love you. Good-bye..."
"It's what's best for him."
"Yeah. We are ready."
My sister and I started crying as she inserted the needle into his shaved hind leg. He didn't flinch. His eyes were lifeless. As I watched the Russian vet inject the drugs, I kept close watch of Sylvester to see when he stopped living. I couldn't tell because his breathing was already weak and he wasn't moving much. After she administered the drugs, she checked his vitals and pronounced him dead.
"He's gone."
"Can I hold him...?"
"Sure..."
I picked him up and on first touch I knew he was gone. His body was limp like a rag doll's. I held him like a baby with his head against my heart, but he toppled over instead. I almost let out a loud cry when I saw that. His head wouldn't stay up and continued to fold into his chest as if his head was decapitated, but was still attached by his skin. I couldn't believe it. I still wanted to keep him comfortable, so I arched my back backwards to accommodate a more comfortable sleeping position for him. It didn't work. It was time to let him go for good.
Sleep baby sleep... I miss you.
