A few weeks ago, I posted a diaryabout the dire need for surgery for my 9-year-old cat, Words. He needed to have an eye removed, and the cost was prohibitively expensive. Many Kossacks responded with donations for his surgery and prayers and hopeful thoughts for his recovery.
You saved his life when I could not do it on my own.
Thank you.
Words was first diagnosed with a degenerative muscular disease in his left eye. But when he underwent a thorough pre-operative examination at the N.C. State University Veterinary Hospitals and Clinics, it was determined that he actually had a melanoma in that eye, and surgery was needed immediately.
And the very next day, Words was in the fine hands of some of the most caring, gentle, and skilled feline ophthalmology surgical teams you can imagine. The lead surgeon himself had a cat who'd lost an eye to melanoma, so he was particularly sympathetic to Words' situation.
He and his team also understood why I was unable to find funds out of my own budget to pay for the care that was needed. They did everything possible to make sure Words received the best care imaginable with the least cost possible. They cut no corners on his care, as they wanted nothing to stand in the way of Words' optimal well-being.
The operation went without a hitch. We're still awaiting pathology reports to determine whether the melanoma had metastasized, but the docs tell me that only about 5-15% of cats with melanoma experience metastases, and that Words' extensive workup showed no signs of any cancer in other parts of his body. They did find signs of early kidney disease (which is fairly common in elderly cats), but because it has been caught early, there are many simple steps to take to keep his kidneys operating efficiently and effectively.
One day after surgery, Words came home. He was super-happy to be back, but he was pretty blissed-out on painkillers most of that day.
The next morning, I could tell that Words was feeling his old self, because he woke me at 5:30 by doing that poke-poke-poke thing he does to my cheek from my nightstand when I'd better get my arse out of bed to remedy the I-want-my-breakfast-and-I-want-it-right-damned-now situation.
(Yes, his food and water are on my dining table -- to discourage the other cats from noshing his Fancy Feast mashed with special kitty milk.)
And here he is, two weeks postsurgery and four days after having his stitches removed. He's back to rambling, romping, and wrestling with his buddy Wolfie, whom you can see peeking out from the box to the right.
Thank you to each and every Kossack and all other friends and family members who pitched in to make this happen. I couldn't even have paid for the consultation without you. But because of your gifts and kind wishes, Words' $1,200 surgical emergency was transformed into treatment that was possible in time to save him. I received more than $600 the day of my diary. A friend here in North Carolina was genuinely hurt that I hadn't asked her, and her contribution put us to the point where we could go into the clinic without my having to worry one iota about finances. My college-student daughter contributed all the money she earned from two weeks' worth of work, plus money she earned as a DJ (she blogs about vinyl postpunk and European techno music) and a dogsitter.
Y'all are amazing. I don't even want to think what might have happened without you. But it would have been tough to live with.
Thank you!!