Re: Furangel Ginger and other Furangels that have moved on to the bridge
Although it was an MRI and not surgery with Ginger, the story otherwise sounds the same. I am sorry. I had never heard of anything like this happening. I guess it is not so rare after all. I do not think it was the FeLV that made Taz react that way to the anesthesia. I think it was swelling in his brain from the tumor, which was increased from the anesthesia. That is what the neurologist and the MRI vet said happened with Ginger. I did not know that anesthesia can cause pressure on the brain. I think that is actually the risk it causes. I never knew what it was about anesthesia that was dangerous. And when there are large tumors or there is swelling in the brain already, the pressure can be too much and cause the brain to herniate, and then they can not wake up. Ginger's ears did start twitching, and were twitching for a couple of hours. But the neurologist said that what had happened to her brain would prevent her from gaining full consciousness. I am so sorry, for you, for Taz, and for my Ginger. Michelle In a message dated 2/22/2006 3:59:30 P.M. Eastern Standard Time, [EMAIL PROTECTED] writes: My Vets were checking on him every 15 minutes just to see if there was any movement like the tail, ears, any type of twitching on his body. My Vets called me every half hour to give me updates. They were awesome they loved him as well. He had been one of their favorites since he was a tiny little scrapper.
Re: Furangel Ginger and other Furangels that have moved on to the bridge
Sorry so long.. He had surgery which went well. Vet said he should make recovery. It was the anesthesia that was the risk of him not waking up. They said because he was FELV didn't know if his body could handle being put under. Even though he petted and love on them in my presence. He didn't look sick or act sick and was a good candidate for the surgery. My Vets were checking on him every 15 minutes just to see if there was any movement like the tail, ears, any type of twitching on his body. My Vets called me every half hour to give me updates. They were awesome they loved him as well. He had been one of their favorites since he was a tiny little scrapper. He went under about 10:30 am I had to let him go about 6:00pm actually it was my husband that called to let him go. I wasn't able to say good-bye to him I was out of control at that time. It was so hard I was heartbroken and angry. Of course I ask the question: "Why Taz he never did any harm to anyone?" I remember leaving him with the Vet Tech as she walked away from me I heard him talking to me. But it wasn't a bad or hurtful cry. I will never forget that as long as I live. He love everyone that came in contact with him, even people that didn't like cats...liked him. I'm so sorry about "Ginger" I feel your painyou mentioned the house feels strange and so wrong. I totally agree with you. I had just moved into my home 3-4 months prior to Taz's passing. I no longer live there have since bought some property will be moving next week. I never did feel comfortable there. I'm shedding tears as I write this to you because this shouldn't have to happen any of our kitties. It still hurts even though he died Jan 16th 2002 In a message dated 2/22/2006 12:01:01 PM Pacific Standard Time, [EMAIL PROTECTED] writes: What did Taz not wake up from? surgery or a scan or something else? I had not heard of any positives getting the lymphoma in their brains before, so this was truly a shock to me. But it sounds like it happened to Taz too. I'm sorry. They did not tell me that this was a risk of the anesthesia for the MRI-- they just said it was light anesthesia when I asked. Afterwards they said it happens so rarely, just to a small percentage of cats with really large brain tumors, and they did not know she had one of those until she was already under for the scan. But Gray says, and it is probably true, that if they had warned us of a 3% risk of her never waking up from the scan, we probably would have done it anyway, because the risk sounds small and they had said that whatever they found in the MRI could probably be treated in some way but that they had to know what it was in order to treat it. I am just so sorry, even if that is true, that her last waking hour was being transported by people she did not know to the MRI center and being knocked out there. She was a friendly cat, and not fearful generally, so I hope it was not terrible. But when I brought her back to the ER the third time, at midnight on Sunday, she gave such a cry when we got inside that I worried she was scared and upset to be back there. But she seemed like she was dying at home, and they said that she perked up there from the IV drip and the drugs they gave her, and that before they transported her for the MRI they let her walk around a bit, and though she was walking in circles due to the tumor, she still walked over to a cage with a puppy in it and wanted to see the puppy. I hope she could hear us while she was unconscious at the end, and knew that we were there with her and had not abandoned her. Most of my animals have died at home, and it is very hard to know that her last day was spent at a hospital in a cage with strangers. The tech at the MRI place told me that as she put Ginger under for the scan, she held her and kissed her and pet her as she fell asleep. I don't know if that comforted Ginger, since she did not know her, but I hope that it did. I am so worried that she thought we had abandoned her there. If I had known the MRI was in a different facility, I think I would have asked if I could transport her there myself. But I thought it was in the same building, and was waiting for the results, and for her to come out of the anesthesia, before going to visit her. But she never did. It is really hard not having her here. It feels so strange, the house feels so wrong. I had been hoping to be here in this new house longer before having to feel this way about it. I'm glad she had the 7 months here though. She loved the stream behind it, and she got to live in the house with us. At our old house, my positives lived in a free-standing garage converted to studio, with a yard and all, but I had to go out to it to spent time with them, and though Gray was always complaining that I was out there all the time, it still did not feel like a lot, or like living in the house with them. They lived in there because we had three rambunctious large dogs in the house,
Re: Furangel Ginger and other Furangels that have moved on to the bridge
What did Taz not wake up from? surgery or a scan or something else? I had not heard of any positives getting the lymphoma in their brains before, so this was truly a shock to me. But it sounds like it happened to Taz too. I'm sorry. They did not tell me that this was a risk of the anesthesia for the MRI-- they just said it was light anesthesia when I asked. Afterwards they said it happens so rarely, just to a small percentage of cats with really large brain tumors, and they did not know she had one of those until she was already under for the scan. But Gray says, and it is probably true, that if they had warned us of a 3% risk of her never waking up from the scan, we probably would have done it anyway, because the risk sounds small and they had said that whatever they found in the MRI could probably be treated in some way but that they had to know what it was in order to treat it. I am just so sorry, even if that is true, that her last waking hour was being transported by people she did not know to the MRI center and being knocked out there. She was a friendly cat, and not fearful generally, so I hope it was not terrible. But when I brought her back to the ER the third time, at midnight on Sunday, she gave such a cry when we got inside that I worried she was scared and upset to be back there. But she seemed like she was dying at home, and they said that she perked up there from the IV drip and the drugs they gave her, and that before they transported her for the MRI they let her walk around a bit, and though she was walking in circles due to the tumor, she still walked over to a cage with a puppy in it and wanted to see the puppy. I hope she could hear us while she was unconscious at the end, and knew that we were there with her and had not abandoned her. Most of my animals have died at home, and it is very hard to know that her last day was spent at a hospital in a cage with strangers. The tech at the MRI place told me that as she put Ginger under for the scan, she held her and kissed her and pet her as she fell asleep. I don't know if that comforted Ginger, since she did not know her, but I hope that it did. I am so worried that she thought we had abandoned her there. If I had known the MRI was in a different facility, I think I would have asked if I could transport her there myself. But I thought it was in the same building, and was waiting for the results, and for her to come out of the anesthesia, before going to visit her. But she never did. It is really hard not having her here. It feels so strange, the house feels so wrong. I had been hoping to be here in this new house longer before having to feel this way about it. I'm glad she had the 7 months here though. She loved the stream behind it, and she got to live in the house with us. At our old house, my positives lived in a free-standing garage converted to studio, with a yard and all, but I had to go out to it to spent time with them, and though Gray was always complaining that I was out there all the time, it still did not feel like a lot, or like living in the house with them. They lived in there because we had three rambunctious large dogs in the house, and a negative cat, and I adopted 6 positives and that was the only set-up Gray and I could agree on, and I thought they were freer from stress than having to deal with the dogs, who scared some of them. But here they live in the house with us (our negative lives in our bedroom, much to his chagrin), and I would sleep with them in the guest room sometimes, and they seem happier to me. So I am glad Ginger got to be here for half a year, anyway. Though she always seemed happy in MA too, since the world was her toybox and she had Simon and her yard and lots of toys. I could never find any of the medicine bottles because no matter where I put them she would find them and roll them around their little house until they got stuck under furniture. I would have to crawl around looking for them under things so I could medicate whoever was sick, and Ginger would follow me around while I did that, finding it very interesting that I was crawling on the floor. Michelle In a message dated 2/22/2006 2:34:03 P.M. Eastern Standard Time, [EMAIL PROTECTED] writes: By reading her story reminded a lot of Taz in his last stages with the tumor in his skull. He wouldn't wake up either so a choice had to be made. His tumors were the secondary illness it wasn't the FELV itself that made him sick.
Furangel Ginger and other Furangels that have moved on to the bridge
Michelle, What a story of "Ginger's Life" with you and Gray plus the other furkids in the home. So much love She is now free chasing butterflies with Simon at the bridge. The day will come when you will be together again. You both are in my thoughts and prayers. I have a candle lit right now for a comforting passing for those headed to the bridge. By reading her story reminded a lot of Taz in his last stages with the tumor in his skull. He wouldn't wake up either so a choice had to be made. His tumors were the secondary illness it wasn't the FELV itself that made him sick. I have to admit I'm shedding tears writing this to you and the list of wonderful people. We have had too many losses lately. I'm so sorry.thank god for you all that took these furbabies into your homes. This is so saddamn this disease! In a message dated 2/22/2006 8:15:37 AM Pacific Standard Time, [EMAIL PROTECTED] writes: She never regained consciousness after the MRI. She started breathing some on her own, but not enough to get sufficient oxygen without the machine. After several hours all the vets said there was no way she was going to regain consciousness, and also that the mass in her brain was so big, after the neurologist actually looked at the pictures rather than just the report, that she said even if it was an infection rather than a tumor there was nothing she could do. She said that it was so large that the slight increase in brain pressure from the anesthesia made her brain herniate and part of it go out through the back of her skull. Gray and I stayed with her for an hour or so while she was on the breathing machine, and talked to her and told her how much we loved her, and reminded her of what a good life she had had and how happy she had been, and told her we did not want her to suffer, and asked her forgiveness, and then euthanized her. We took her home wrapped in a blanket and I slept next to her last night and then this morning we buried her next to the stream and waterfall in our back yard, in the woods, where she used to sit for hours watching the waterfall. We are in total shock. I have been fussing for months over Lucy, with her IBD and bladder stones, and Patches, with her teeth and her UTI's, and have paid less attention to Ginger because she seemed to be doing so well. Just Saturday morning we were laughing at her because she was racing around the house, chasing a pen, and then bothering Lucy to play with her. Apparently she had a large brain tumor then and it just had not affected an important part of the brain yet. When she started acting sick Saturday night and I took her to the ER on Sunday, and then to another ER on Monday and had her seen by an internist, the vets all told me that she had probably just ingested something and had mild gastroenteritis and it would work itself out. But she had a brain tumor the whole time. I do not know how old she was. If the shelter was right, then she was almost 7. I had her almost 4 years, and they said they thought she was about 3 when I adopted her. I think she had been there a year or two and had come in as an adult, with a litter of kittens who subsequently died from FeLV. I think it was her personality that kept her going for so long. She was always happy, had no malice toward anyone, and acted like a kitten her whole life. I have never in my life seen a cat who played so much. She literally was fascinated by everything, and saw everything as a toy. She loved watching the toilets flush, and the printer print, played with our shoelaces when we put our shoes on, chased pens and peanuts and a little plastic Easter egg around the house. Even at the first ER on Sunday morning, when she was feeling too sick to eat, I got her to play in the examination room while we waited for her test results, with a piece of string tied to a q-tip. Last April, when her teeth got so bad she could not eat and needed 10 removed surgically, and right afterwards when she had a bad URI that lasted for weeks and I had to syringe feed her, she was still playing the whole time. She was joyful, and the life of our house. The house feels so empty without her. She was also Simon's best friend. Until he died last February, the two of them played all day long. She used to go up to him and put her arm over his neck, like putting him in a head lock, and then the two of them would tumble and chase each other, run up the cat tree at the same time while batting at each other, chase each other up the tree in their yard. She used to climb that tree, and one here in our new house as well. She loved watching the waterfall in the woods behind our house, and staring at the frogs in the little pond in the backyard during the summer. She never hunted, but she did catch one of the frogs one time and carried him around until we saw her and got her to release him unhurt. She truly bore no malice toward anyone, had very little fear, and was always ready for an
