Style passed away a few days ago, on Tuesday, April 16th, 2019. He was nearly 17 years old. One of two earthly beings keeping me alive has now gone. To say that I am crushed by this simply does not come close. It's because of the unconditional love and comfort that Style gave. He was one of a kind. He has left a huge mark, and a tremendous hole in my life. Style was suffering from transitional cell carcinoma of the urinary bladder. He also had heart problems, kidney problems, and a recently discovered mass in his lungs which was causing him to cough. I was medicating him daily with anti-nausea medication and pepsid-AC. Every other day I was injecting him with 25mL of lactated ringer's solution. I'd been doing all this since he was diagnosed last October. This bought him an extra seven months on this planet and in my world. Sunday, almost suddenly, Style lost it. It became dreadfully apparent that he'd lost considerable weight. He was terribly weak and moved around slowly. He struggled to stand up, falling down frequently. This was all of a sudden. Just the day before he had been fine. And also, his purr had left him. He still had an appetite for food and water. He still struggled to climb into the litter box. And he fought hard to climb onto the bed to sleep next to me. I took everything out of him. I figured that maybe he had a bug or something, and he'd get over it in a day or so. That didn't pan out. He got worse. I made probably the toughest decision I've ever had to make in my life. It was painful, sad, and heartbreaking that I had to take him to the animal hospital to be euthanized. The vet also agreed that we had done all we could, and should not try to avoid the inevitable. They took Style into the back and fixed him with a catheter in one of his hind legs. Then they brought him to a private room so I could spend his last moments with him. He crawled into my lap one last time, and I held him and spoke softly to him. I apologized to him. And I thanked him for being a part of my life. I am so grateful that Style came into my life.
As I try to move onward, I see even more how much of my life is not really my own. My choices are not really mine. I spin my wheels for no good reason and to no outcome that I'd be interested in.
Finesse, Style's adopted sister is now alone, as am I. We have each other for comfort. Finesse is 19 now. She is amazing, having survived both her real brother and her adopted brother. Finesse is keeping me alive. The reality of allowing for Style's passing opens up new doors of responsibilities which I have for settling my affairs. I still have not made up a will. And I'm not sure if I care to. I really don't care about a whole lot anymore these past few days. My choices are not my own. My life is not my own. I am tired.
