Responsibility is a 4 Letter Word

It really sucks to be an adult sometimes.
Last Saturday, Fred threw up. No big deal. She's on medication for hyperthyroidism, and puking can be one of the side effects. It's happened before, plus she had just eaten a big plate of treats, so I didn't think anything of it.
But when she didn't want to eat on Sunday, I became a bit worried. She still drank water but couldn't keep any of it down. By Sunday night she was failing.
I woke up on Monday and called my vet. Unfortunately she was on vacation until the next day, but they told me to take Fred to Tufts if she couldn't make it much longer. By that afternoon she could barely walk. It was time.
I was at work by then, so our neighbor drove C and Fred to Tufts in Grafton. They admitted her (by the way, it's $128 just to walk in the door. That information will factor in later) and started her on an IV after taking some blood. They did a chemical panel and later discovered she had a fever. They also pushed on her middle and saw that she cringed while only pushing on one of her kidneys. So without doing an extensive list of tests that would've cost over $1,000, they decided to start her on antibiotics for a kidney infection.
The whole time, C is calling me at work throughout the night, giving me updates on her condition and what the cost of further tests would be. He told the vet I was definitely strapped for cash, and they tried to work with the results they had already obtained. We decided to wait and see if the antibiotics worked overnight before going any further.
I went to visit her that night after work, and she barely lifted her head. Her back was to the cage door and she looked tired. But after talking to her for a couple of minutes, she gingerly stood up and allowed me to pet her before laying back down for the night. I was relieved that she was in a medical facility, but of course it pained me to see her in a cage with the IV.
The next morning they called to tell me that she did all right overnight, and that her fever was gone. She was even eating a little bit which was a good sign. But they felt something hard in her stomach, like her intestinal walls were thicker, and suggested an ultrasound. They also discovered from the chemical panel her liver levels were off, which could point to liver failure. This information led them to believe that she could have something as serious as lymphoma.
Lymphoma?
That brought on a whole set of new concerns, concerns that, on my budget, would be impossible to satisfy. Cancer treatments imply chemotherapy, and who knows if that would even improve her life? Extending it is one thing, but if it was only to be time spent undergoing treatment, that's no life at all, for any living being.
Unfortunately, the ultrasound cost $250, and the vet said if it didn't show anything they'd still have to take more blood to determine a more definitive cause. Since I had already spent $120 for one overnight stay, and they wanted to keep her for another night, I had to forgo the ultrasound and stick with the bloodwork.
All day I tried not to think about the possibility that I may have to put my Freddie down. I've had her for seven years of her sixteen on Earth, and this was the first time that idea even presented itself. I've been lucky in that she's been a really healthy cat for most of the time I've had her. And now that her old age is finally showing, I may have a tough decision to make.
All this while having to keep up a modicum of professionalism. It was not a good day.
Thankfully, the results of the bloodwork came in that night while I was at work. They said her liver values were back to normal, and she was doing much better with the eating and drinking. They decided it was the kidney infection that snowballed into all of her other symptoms, guessing she was septic by the time we brought her in. No ultrasound combined with her progress allowed me to bring her home the next day, with two different kinds of antibiotics and the suggestion for an antacid. The cancer idea was off the table for now, so long as we kept an eye on her and had her blood checked again in another month.
I picked her up the next day, just beaming from ear to ear. She looked much better and even meowed while in her carrier, a sign that she was getting back to normal. (She really hates that thing, and will meow like she's going through the Spanish Inquisition the whole time she's in it. It really adds to the fun of bringing her to the vet, or ANYWHERE). :)
Now it's just a matter of force-feeding pink liquid medicine down her throat (and you know all animals just love that!) while trying not to spray it all over her face, and paws, and any other body part she will try to put in the way of her and the applicator. She looks like a Pepto Bismol junkie, with tiny pink spots all mashed into her fur. And we get to continue this fine tradition for a month- yay.
But I'll take it for even just one more day with my feline best friend.
I can't imagine what I would've done if the results of this hospital trip had turned out differently. As it is, I spent about $800 to bring her out of this situation alive and well. Who knows what will happen if she becomes sick again. It's just too much of an adult decision for me to ever want to think about again.
But I will have to eventually, as all adults do, with nothing but responsibility as my guide. And that brings no comfort at all.