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She was issued an Elizabethan collar to keep her from pulling the staples out. Iv'e spent the day distracting her while she has it off. They come out tomorrow. I'm wondering if they'll just suggest euthanizing her then. I figure it's the least I can do.

Thanks. if I'd read Maxine's profile more carefully, I probably wouldn't have adopted her! She had a hard time with house training. And when my husband died, (2010) and then my mother (2013) I was finding cat urine everywhere. I had two cats at that time, but figured out it was Max. (Cue the V-8 head slap when I remembered 'adopted and returned twice') Visits to the vet. Clear medical history. Prozac for the cat. Anti-depressants for me. Cue the painting of the floor,, twice, with oil based primer. Then i sequestered her to the rooms I used most-kitchen, sewing, dining, and scooping the litter box every time I saw something in it. That part actually worked I promised her a forever home, though.

You probably didn't kill your baby. tumors come...and we don't always know why. My husband died from lung cancer, not unusual for a man who smoked 2 packs of cigarettes a day for 40 years. So did entertainer Andy Kaufman, a vocal anti-smoker who carried a little fan with him to blow smokers' exhalations away from him. Sometimes, it's just the luck of the draw. I voiced my guilt and disappointment to the vet over Maxine's tumor. Other people have cats living 18, 20 years and I'm not having that experience. He said, for one thing, all cats aren't living that old, and secondly, I got her as an adult. If she went into heat a couple times early in life, (before I adopted her) She's predisposed to get mammary cancer. Sadly, it may just have been Pearl's time.

I hope you find peace. the vets at the clinic I use vaccinate older cats with caution...and have said, "If he hasn't caught X by now, he's not going to." I understand your pain, but 'post hoc, ergo propter hoc' shouldn't be the only science we consider. Rabies vaccines *have* been the source of tumors *at the site of the injection* which certainly wasn't your Baby's bladder.

No, the exam of the tumor itself revealed it is the type of thing to be cropping up in other places. He told me the average survival of cancer at this stage (2-3) is around six months. It's a mammary tumor, not a good thing to find in cats (oddly, not so serious in dogs.) My Significant Other was also diagnosed with prostate cancer earlier this year. (Lost LH to Lung cancer seven years ago) It's too far along for surgery, so he's having internal and external radiation. The oncologist talked about 'managing' the disease, not curing it . So is having his internal radiation yesterday and today. SO has an immense religious faith. He actually said, "I don't believe God brought us together to separate us so soon." I would like to have that kind of faith.

Some days ago I found a lump on my cat Maxine's belly. It was removed and today we were told it was cancer. Maxine's doing well after surgery. Her appetite has gotten better every day since. I'm just devastated. One would think an adult would develop a sense of equanimity or something, but the losses of my pets seems to get harder each time. Added to this, tomorrow I take my significant other to the hospital for his prostate cancer treatment. The doctors don't talk about curing the cancer, but managing it.

When an animal stops eating, it is a sign to me that its time has come. I did have a younger cat in good health who inexplicably started fasting, and just as inexplicably began to eat again. however, she was 10 or 11, not 15, and when I force fed her, she ate. My last boy was up and about, but after a lifetime of making these calls, I sense a difference between "active" and "restless." When he began to wander about, I think hewas looking for a way to be alone and let the end come. Not eating is a sure sign your old friend was looking toward the end. You have my sympathy.

Aw, she does okay now, as she's been limited to the kitchen, den, and tv room where we hang out. And the boxes are cleaned twice a day, at least. Unfortunately, my mind goes back to the day I brought the old boy home. I opened the box, and he hopped out, and husband literally gasped and said, "He's beautiful." My Mother visited a few weeks later, saw the two kitties together, and said, "It's like they're different species." (And they were. Imagine Johnny Depp and Queen Latifa) I've lost both my husband and my Mom since I've had Gepetto, so I've managed to wrap this ending around those losses, as well. *Sigh*

A couple weeks before Christmas, 15-year-old Gepetto had a health problem that we thought we'd solved. He rallied, then on Christmas day he started refusing to eat. He had, over the last couple years gone from ten pounds to nine at his last exam, then a little over eight at his last illness. When he gave up eating and refused force feeding, I realized there may be too much wrong to fix. Over three days he became lethargic and depressed. A little before nine Monday morning we helped him cross the Rainbow bridge. I'm having a hard time: I still have one more cat, unfortunately, this one's a little more difficult to love. She has litterbox issues. She will, at random times, urinate somewhere other than her litter boxes which are apparently supposed to smell like rainwater. Owing to this, I have to pick up the four boxes that were his, in the portion of the house he ruled, while dealing with a cat I almost gave up a couple years ago, because she's a little crazy. Yes, she's been cleared my the vet and all, we put her on Prozac and everything. I did the V-8 head slap when I remembered she'd been adopted out and returned twice before I took her. (Betting the other owners never said a thing hoping she'd find a good home) I didn't have long enough with Gepetto, who greeted me every night at the door when I walked in, and slept with me each night. I love Maxine, but maybe it wouldn't have hurt so much to see her go, and that means I'm kind of a heel.

I did have Jeff's facebook page memorialized, so his friends and family wouldn't continue to get suggestions to "reconnect With Jeff!" But I left the page up. Unfortunately, I didn't have any of Jeff's password, so I can't modify it, change the picture, or anything.

If you purchase a used car, be sure to take it to another place so a trusted mechanic can look it over for you. Mine charged me only $25 or so, I think. Well worth the price for the peace of mind.

I was furious at my husband's doctor for not screening DH for cancer earlier, as he had smoked for 38 years. But then the doctor explained that the kind of screening that does catch lung cancer early is the equivalent of 300 x-rays, with a price tag to match. It just isn't something you can have every year to check things out. Because he smoked heavily, I had anticipated outliving him, but I never thought it would happen when I was 53. The handy man has been my lifeline. He did some work for only the cost of materials. Then he got me out to a Habitat For Humanity house for a day. Then he asked me to help paint another widow's house (she only paid for the paint) when a contractor tried to bamboozle her by telling her she needed all new siding. He has dragged me back to the land of the living... Life isn't perfect, but at almost seven months I have turned a corner, I think.

Please be gentle with yourself. I am in a similar situation. We purchased this house with the idea of fixing it up...Dear departed had all the know how, though. It will get done, just not on the original timetable. And this would be a good time to see a doctor as well. I broke down crying in the OB-GYN's office (nurse asked if my husband was still the person to contact in case of emergency) I was just sooo exhausted. An iron supplement is helping me a lot. A lot. The difference is night and day. So sorry for your loss.

Soem days are better than others, even almost six months out. Last week I was having a really bad day. I was at work, and trying to hide it. Meryl Streep i'm not. So my boss appears beside me with a steaming carafe and two tiny porcelain cups. "You said you've never tried Turkish coffee. I made some. Would you like a cup?" How cool is it to have your boss make you coffee.

Please accept my condolences. 43 years!!! It sounds as if they were happy ones, too. I found the first few weeks dreadful. The day after the funeral was the worst. It changes and becomes more bearable, but it never goes away, I guess. Of course you're crying. It hurts like anything. I'm not quite six months out, and I still cry at random moments. My husband had lung cancer, too. But he died only five weeks after his diagnosis. We didn't have much time to say good by. Your friend is a boob. I hope you find some peace.

For what it's worth I think staying as friends is over-rated. One half of the couple is hoping for a re-igniting of the love relationship, and generally reads more meaning into the contact, phone calls, etc, than is meant. Down the road, a few months, things may have cooled off and may be different. And if a person doesn't want to commit - gee, I know it feels personal, how can it not? But it's more likely his shortcoming in not being able to settle down. If one has a really good reason, (I belong to X religion and you are an atheist, I don't want children and you do, I want to live on a farm and you want to live in the city) well then you'd just say it, wouldn't you? The crickets chirping you're hearing is more like, "I dunno, I'm just not sure she's THE ONE." And if you can't tell, I'm of the opinion that there isn't "ONE" but many some one could form a successful relationship with. I'm dipping toes into the pool at this point and not responding to men who look for "The One," as in my experience, that kind of man thinks no relationship involves work. All he has to do is show up, and his woman will never want anything that requires any effort on his part. Ipswitch is a tad bitter about the male half of the human race today. Sorry.

It is comforting to know this happens to someone besides me. Last week I was having a bad day. A very bad day. I tried not to let my boss see me, but I was trying desperately not to cry at work. My boss may be a genius. He appeared mid afternoon with a carafe and two tiny cups and said, "You said you've never tried Turkish coffee. I made some. Would you like to try it?" I don't know if he saw me. I tried to hide my emotions, but I'm not Meryl Streep. What a kind thing for him to do. I struck gold with this boss. By the way, the first time I started to melt down in a store, it was PMS, 14 years ago.

KayC what a beautiful post. I've printed it out to keep. I'm not religious at all, but it does remind me that we all, at one time or another, are in need of forgiveness. And that if any of us have the opportunity now, we ought to examine our lives, and be mindful that secrets almost always come to the light eventually. My husband was an alcoholic who lost three jobs in six years. I don't know exactly why, didn't share. I'm starting to have an idea going through his things. Clearly, the drinking played a huge part, but there were other aspects as well. Whenever I am angry with someone and tempted to stew about it, or retaliate, I will read your post twice a day with a glass of water.

Years ago, I developed this theory: some males are sooo gutless, they treat their SO badly until she breaks up with him. It allows the male to move forward free of guilt because, after all, he was technically the one dumped. It sounds like he tried this with you. You were just too tenacious to let go. You're too good for a guy still tied to Mama's apron strings. I had a similar experience, in another lifetime when I was young. It does hurt. It felt sort of like a death, for sure.

I was doing better until recently. The 13th of June would have been Jeff's birthday, and the 29th would have been our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. The other day I looked through a cookbook to see if it needed updating. We had had a period where we had gotten into a rut, dinner-wise, and we had decided that each Tuesday, we'd try a new recipe. I felt nostalgic and sad all over again. Our marriage was not an easy one, with Jeff's alcoholism, but those evenings were pleasant, for the most part.

Peace to you all. Today would have been Jeff's 60th birthday.

A month or so before Jeff was diagnosed with cancer, we had a falling out with our furnace repair service. Jeff found a new one, and we had the number written in the phone book. A month after Jeff's death, the furnace stopped working. I called the furnace guy and got an answering machine. I called a couple more times - same thing. Okay, he could be busy, could be taking a much-needed day off, but someone ought to monitor the phone, right? Or the message ought to explain he's on a call, or out of town. Fortunately, the handy man was here. Handy was ready to leave, and said, what's wrong. Furnace guy has not called back, I said. Handy doesn't do furnaces, but he knows someone who does. Handy calls him, has me talk to him, and whaddayouknow, Furnace guy 2 is not far away and will be over when he finishes that job. Handy starts loading up his truck and said, "You ought to call that first furnace repairman and leave a message that you've found someone to take the job." I did. Before Handy finished loading his truck, the first man I had called had called back, wanting the work. Sorry, Charlie. I have friends who aren't do-it-yourselfers, and they call and get referrals for the hired help. Even doing that, it hasn't always worked out for them, so it's good to remember that sometimes the repairman can be inept, (or have a bad day, or make a mistake, or he may have worked out great for your neighbor but not for you, or stop working because his wife filed for divorce and he got so depressed)

It depends on what kind and how elaborate one's funeral is, and how high a policy one has purchased as to whether the life insurance will pay the whole thing. You may not need a life insurance policy. That is typical for people who would leave behind children, or spouses who haven't the income to care for themselves. I know my Mom and Dad purchased adjacent lots in their local cemetery for "when the time came." My Dad has been buried there, and my Mom will go right next to him. That is just the cemetery lot though, not all the other expenses- the service, the cremation or embalming, transporting the body It would have been easier for me if Jeff and I had had a chance to discuss this more. My mother-in-law had cancer of the colon which was deemed terminal by the time it was discovered. About a week or two before she passed, she had discussions with her pastor about the service she wanted. One thing that is advertised around here a lot is pre-planning one funeral. For many folks, it make sense to them to have all the decisions made. The benefit touted is next of kin aren't trying to make the decisions, and possibly be taken advantage of, while they are grieving. (Now you've got me thinking, Suzanne, because I don't have any children to plan mine). I just looked up pre-paid funerals, and there are pitfalls there, too. Here is one article that gives some practical advice on pre-planning. One remedy is called a Totten trust. If you wish, you may follow the link below: http://www.usnews.com/money/retirement/articles/2008/02/15/should-you-prepay-your-own-funeral-expenses.html I think Suzanne has asked a really good question. I wonder if the moderators would be open to creating a category for the more nuts and bolts questions of dealing with the death of a loved one. I picked an attorney out of the yellow pages, and he seems like a competent fellow. It turns out that he also is the attorney for a friend of mine. I didn't ask any of my friends for referrals because I assumed they all had legal help in the Big City where they live. One shouldn't assume.

Suzanne, that's excellent. Your PCP really stepped up to the plate. I've been on anti-depressants for years. It truly makes the difference between grim determination and the regular kind of determination. The counselor should help, too. Again, if you don't feel comfortable with the first one you meet, try another. Remember, the doctor works FOR YOU. By the way, I once heard a doctor explain why he is not too chatty with his patients. He explained how he and a patient had an interest in the same author, and one day poked his head into the hospital room of his patient and started his conversation with talk about the book they were both reading. After he left he realized he had not asked the patient questions he should have about how his patient was feeling. In this case, no harm, no foul, but the doctor then realized that his interest in the patient's hobbies had distracted him form his medical duty.

Today I got one of the weed-eaters going, (DH, why do we have two of them?) and did some edging. The end result looks like someone who cut his own hair. But it's better than putting forth no effort at all, right?