MSI Press Blog

  When my beloved Murjan was dying from cancer , I was desperate for information, but my husband was dying from cancer at the same time, which gave me very little time for seeking out answers. Murjan was almost 19 years old and had been on chemotherapy for three years. His vet did not know how to help him further, but she apparently did not want to admit that -- and subconsciously I did not want to admit that she did not know what to do and had essentially given up on him. I was unable to get timely appointments, or any appointments at all, even in the emergency room. We do not have any vets in town. I have to travel no matter what. Murjan's vet was located an hour north of us. To get help, I contacted other vets. A vet to the west of us recommended hydration, and so we stated hydrating Murjan every other day. His vet to the north allowed as to how that might help. But Murjan kept losing weight. He was down to 5 pounds (from 16 pounds) when he died.  Finally, a vet to the sou...

  I have written a bit about the process of pets dying before, along with the ways in which vets can be (or not) helpful. In that post, I shared a book by Barbara Karnes on understanding the pet-dying process, which I had found very helpful and which would have provided me with a fair amount of relief and guidance had I known about while Murjan was still alive. It explained much about his dying process and death that was comforting in retrospect. You can read that post HERE . In this post, I want to share the emotional aspects not only of the dying itself but also of the role of the support community (which should be supportive but in our case was not so, at least not to the extent that we needed and that could have been). As a result, my experience with Murjan's dying days were traumatic--more traumatic than they should have been because of lack of support from the veterinary hospital that should have been my source of support.  As I explained in the earlier post, Murjan had...

One of the most comforting and helpful resources we found when Carl was in the final days of hospice -- more helpful than what hospice workers could tell us and more than doctors did tell us -- was a little book, called Gone from My Sight: The Dying Experience by Barbara Karnes, RN. As Carl went through each predicted and predictable stage from being distant mentally, to not eating, and then to not drinking, this little book told us the range of expectations and what was happening to his body in preparation for death in relation to what he was and was not doing. The book description on Amazon is very accurate:  The biggest fear of watching someone die is fear of the unknown; not knowing what dying will be like or when death will actually occur. The booklet "Gone From My Sight" explains in a simple, gentle yet direct manner the process of dying from disease. Dying from disease is not like it is portrayed in the movies. Yet movies, not life, have become our role models. Death ...

  When Carl was dying from cancer of unknown primary, he was reluctant to face his own mortality. He would not tall about it with anyone except our priest, Fr. Ed. When Fr. Ed arrived to give last rites, Carl had been mostly near-comatose for two days, but when Fr. Ed spoke his eyes flew open, he listened intently, and he even laughed at Fr. Ed's humor.  The following morning at 7:30 a.m., Carl passed away peacefully, surrounded by all his children and all his cats -- and of course, his wife. It was as if Fr. Ed's words, the last rites, or the presence that surrounded that encounter at last brought acceptance and peace. The vulnerable of someone approaching death, their apprehension, and their unwillingness to talk about it can be disconcerting for family members who not then know how to approach any of the realities of life at the moment. It appears that Spirit is quite important as this note I found somewhere online says: The Spirit A person’s spirituality is unique and per...

Carl frequently complained of being cold during the last two months of living/dying with cancer. Even with the heat at, for me an uncomfortable, 72 degrees (when we typically maintain it at a comfortable 66 degrees). Even when wearing a sweater or even something heavier and smothered in blankets. He was always complaining about being cold, and only after he died did I find out why -- and that he really was very cold because body temperature drops when someone is dying. We were constantly struggling over how to compromise on temperature. My son and I were extremely uncomfortable with the amount of heat Carl would set the thermostat for, as well as having concerns with the cost of the amount of gas needed to keep the house so hot (dying can create immense financial stress -- a topic Cancer Diary will address in the future).  In general, cold registered for me, having grown up in Maine and having spent a few winters in Siberia, pictured above, on a very different scale from the perce...

Bobolink's last loving and painful minutes, nestled against owner, Luna .   Integrating New Cats When Older Cats Are Dying Integrating new cats into an established cat family is always a delicate dance, but it becomes even more complex when one of the older cats is nearing the end of life. The emotions in the household shift—grief, vigilance, and quiet respect settle in—and the dynamics between the cats can change in ways that are subtle, profound, or both. In most cases, the cat who is dying has been part of the family for many years, often serving as a social anchor. The newcomers, in addition to finding their place among the living members, must navigate the emotional space left by the one who is leaving. Snyezhka, Happy Cat, and the Distance of Newcomers When Snyezhka was dying from breast, liver, and lung cancer, it wasn’t the new cats who stepped in to care for her—it was Happy Cat, her longtime companion and the beta heart of the household. Happy Cat washed her when she coul...

The cats in the window, Intrepid (tabby-mau mix) and Murjan (red & white Turkish van), were the best of friends. Murjan "raised" Intrepid after he was found as a small kitten crying in the grass after his mother died. Both were born in Jordan and were brought to the USA when we moved back home to California. Both were diagnosed at the same time with lymphoma though the vet said that it was pure coincidence. Intrepid was the younger by four years, but he had the worst case: his kidneys and liver were already damaged when we found out he was sick. Both began chemotherapy in summer of 2018.  Intrepid In October 2018, Intrepid , named for his daredevil approach to life, died. He was only 11 years old. As the days went by and the chemo did little more than make him loopy--actually, it was difficult to know whether the progressing disease was causing him to walk drunkenly or the chemotherapy side effect or both--he ended up on IV at home at times and IV in the pet hospital at t...