Poof's Passing and All Its Implications

We lost our Poofus this week. It was sudden and painful. Poof had a check up this fall and got his shots renewed. The vet said then that Poof did not show his age. His heart sounded good. Lungs good. Weight good. Then a few weeks after that, he seemed to be ill. He stayed in the bottom cubby on a cat tower, rowred when you tried to touch him, and wouldn't eat. I was thinking we'd have to take him to the vet when he bounced back as if nothing was wrong. Little did I know that this is typical of something called saddle thrombus.

Poofus as a kitten. 

On Thursday morning, my husband was getting ready when he heard a thud and a cat mreowr in a distressed way. He found our 14 and half year old black long hair on the floor, in pain, and unable to move his back legs. Hubby whisked him to the vet. Poor Poof never liked riding in a car, so add together his panic over the pain, the legs, and the car, well Poof was just about beside himself in terror as was my husband. By the time I finally got to review my husband's texts and get my work life settled for the rest of the day enough to where I could come home, Poof was gone. Not only did he have the saddle thrombus, but x-rays and tests showed numerous tumors in his lungs. Poof had lung cancer. We never knew. It seems cats are particularly good at hiding such things, so unless they drop weight and stop eating, there's not really any notice that something is wrong. Poof showed none of that leading up to Thursday. The only real solution to Poof's pain and anguish was to let him go as peacefully and humanely as possible. My husband had to do this without me, and as sorry as I am that he had to, I am also thankful that he made the choice. It was the right call.

Our handsome Poofus. As he was meant to be.

Poof is now wrapped in his favorite yellow blanket and buried beneath our tree within the herb garden. Poof loved that yellow blanket. He wouldn't settle in at night unless the blanket was visible and available for him to curl up on it. I was not prepared for how warm he still was when we picked up his body from the vet. Poof was not small by any means, but his lifeless body felt so much heavier as I carried him to the truck that day. I am thankful that I got to see him and bury him here at the house. Unfortunately, his death brought up so much more in my thoughts.

Indeed. To accept life means to accept death.

I've spent a lot of time wrapping my noggin around death. Over the last few years, I've grappled a lot with accepting death, what death means, what happens after death, and how to grieve. I've lost my grandmother, my mother in law, my old boss and mentor, and two friends. So much death, and none of it peaceful or reassuring. In fact, it's been one painful, awful, gut-wrenching death after another. One friend died of complications with AIDS. My grandmother was in terrible pain and was restless in her death throes. My mother in law- don't even go there. She died of fucking cancer, too. It was devastating and she wasted away. I still maintain that the doctors who kept brushing her off with "It's hemorrhoids" need to be bitch-slapped and their licenses revoked for such gross misdiagnosis. Anyway, then my former boss suddenly died out of the blue. While I was in for my surgery, another friend was in having heart surgery, which ultimately proved too much for his body and he too, passed.

All right Death, where's my pizza and pickle chips? 

I accept death as part of what it means to be alive. I accept that the afterlife is little more than a comforting tale to make death seem somehow less final. I think all that talk of souls, and Heaven, and loved ones looking down at us from the cosmos, or even the Rainbow Bridge is just hooey and rubbish. It' not remotely comforting to me. I appreciate people offering those thoughts. It's  kindness and let's face it: death is awkward and uncomfortable. Consoling the grieving is difficult. My discomfort does not change the fact that poeple mean well in their attempts to comfort.

Death may be final, but the love we share while living is eternal~Don Williams Jr.

What is comforting to me though is the option we have to sign living wills or do not resuscitate orders. You see, Poofus trusted us to take care of him. We loved him, gave him a home, and accepted the responsibility that at some point, we might have to choose to let him go as peacefully as possible. It baffles me that humans are not afforded that right without all these stupid laws and debates over physician assisted suicide. If I could have saved my mother in law the agony of her drawn out death, I would have. If I could have helped my friend avoid tumultuous death filled with pain, I would have. Just as I would not want Poof to endure chronic pain , paralysis, and lung cancer just because it was possible to prolong his life, I would not want anyone I love to go through that. I would want them to have a choice in how they die as well as how they live. I want that choice.

Whether you believe A or B is right, that's your choice. Period.

I believe that choosing to die on our own terms is a right to be protected and respected. I know others will argue and say that I'm cold, heartless, or lack respect for life. I disagree. I think that if someone has received a terminal diagnosis and wants to go out before that awful death rattle has a chance to echo in people's ears, then I will hold their hand and witness their rite of passage from life. I think that's the compassionate and loving thing to do. We do it for the furry ones in our lives, yet somehow we cannot extend that grace to our fellow humans for whatever reason. Often people say  it's not up to us to play God. Whatever. First of all, I don't believe in God. Second, we "play God" all the time. We have developed in vitro fertilization to help couples conceive. What is that if not playing God? If we can play God to create life, then we can damn well play God to end it when needless suffering is the alternative.

That's my truth.

For my part, I have every intention of putting these thoughts in writing and legalese so that it's on record. It's going to take me some time to get it all together, but anyone who reads this now knows my views. I hope you will speak up for me when I cannot. I hope that if some tragedy befalls me before I can get it all finalized, at least some of you can support my husband if needed. My family will not take kindly to a choice of euthanasia, but if given choice, that's mine. I do not fear death. Perhaps it's easy to say that now because I am not terminal. Maybe. However, should the word "terminal" ever pass my doctor's lips in a conversation about my future, this is my stand. I'll move to Oregon if I have to.

Poor Nicole. Good thing Oregon has death with dignity laws.

I miss our Poofus Ferocicus. I miss him waiting for me to get out of the shower. I miss him waking me up when he thought I had hit the snooze button enough. I miss him coming in at night to scold me for looking at my Facebook before bed instead of just going to sleep. I will continue to miss him. I wish another choice could have been possible, but I know that letting him go was the right choice. May I have that confidence when next Death comes to remind me of what mortality and compassion truly mean.

Good bye my Poofus. I miss you.