The waiting is the hardest part…
Our family cat Daisy is dying. I know it. This shouldn’t come as any surprise to me. She is 18 years old. According to the “Cat to Human” chart Google showed me, she is the equivalent of 88 years old. For 88 in people years, she still runs on occasion, chases the occasional mouse or chipmunk outside, and has yet to get gray hair.
She has been the best cat we have ever had, not to mention the longest living cat our family has ever known. I honestly don’t know how she has survived this long. We live out in the country, and she has had to tolerate countless strays and numerous slobbering roughhousing family dogs carrying her around in their mouth.
About a week ago, she started acting differently. I couldn’t exactly put my finger on it, but she seemed to be eating and drinking less and, overall, less active. About three days into this new behavior, she disappeared. I had suspected she was dying and had heard that animals sometimes go off by themselves to die. Then she reappeared about 24 hours later. My first reaction was to take her to the vet to see what could be done. However, I knew what was happening in my heart and felt like this could only prolong the inevitable or end in a less than natural death. I decided to utilize my version of hospice for her.
Hospice, in my experience, doesn’t get the credit it deserves. I have had several journeys with hospice. Hospice care was an option that several doctors suggested to Steve mid-way through his journey with Multiple System Atrophy. The term hospice was scary to both of us, and we equated it to giving up hope. Ultimately Steve chose to enter hospice only about a month before he died. The care, assistance, and compassion they provided that last month to both of us was significant and provided quality to his life, not just quantity. My parents had a similar experience when my dad was in the later stages of Parkinson’s disease. They were both reluctant to engage in hospice because it seemed final and limited options. Hospice is not absolute and provides additional opportunities to help and support patients and loved ones. My dad ended up deciding to enter hospice care only a few days before he passed away. We had no idea he was within days of passing away, but God knew. I am thankful my dad made this decision because it allowed him to be at home surrounded by family and allowed me to be right next to him as he passed away. Nothing formalized, no machines or hospital room, just a long three-day goodbye that allowed us to hug him, love him, and begin to make peace with how short and finite life really is.
My version of cat hospice for Daisy was a little different but focused on showing her the same type of compassion and love that hospice care had offered our family. She refused food, and I had a hard time getting her to drink any water. I guess trying to give her food and water is a normal reaction. I felt such anxiety during this time. I checked on her constantly, and every time I entered a room and saw she wasn’t moving, I was sure she was already gone. No one wants to see our loved ones or pets suffer, and we try to make it better. I soon realized she was not suffering in the way I was thinking. This was a natural process. I was the one who was suffering. I was the one that was struggling to accept her dying. I re-focused my efforts on providing her comfort and love. Her movements slowed, and she slept a lot of the time. I wrapped her up to keep her warm and kept her near me as much as possible. Even Stan and Bella, our chihuahuas, seemed to understand. They didn’t bother her and allowed her to sleep next to their bed. On the fourth day after I started cat hospice for Daisy, I realized she would not make it much longer. I wrapped her in a warm baby blanket and gave her a very comfortable bed. I checked on her a couple of times during the night.
The following day when I got up, I immediately checked on her and realized she had died during the night. Death is not easy for anyone. The fact that she was a cat may have made it less traumatic, or maybe it was the fact that I have faced the loss of loved ones very close to me multiple times in recent years. I believe the sting of death has created a little bit of scarring in the raw parts of my heart. The most important thing to me is that she felt loved and cared for. This was my goal during her cat hospice care.
After this experience, I realized that I need to change my view on hospice care. I think hospice care in general needs a whole new marketing campaign. How do you promote hospice? “Come die with us; we make dying better.” Please realize I am not minimizing death or the tremendous loss involved. I know how painful it is. I think hospice is a valuable resource most of us just don’t understand. I believe hospice care should be viewed as an opportunity for a better life while living, not just an option when dying.
Authors note: Much love and prayers to every single loved one, family member, and caregiver facing these difficult choices and decisions right now. We will all face them at some point, and I hope something from my journey can be used as an opportunity to have difficult discussions with your family members and loved ones about your own choices.