09.25.2003 || 22:44

More bad news, *more* bad news, and maybe a little bright spot.

Wow, this is rough. Tarot and I went in to the vet to-day, and the other doctor there looked at him and spoke to us both (though I don't think Tarot was really listening) about no promises and do-our-bests and symptoms and dollar signs and she was adamant that I understand what's going on. She built up the possibilities while systematically shattering my hopes and for the first time, a vet used the thirty-tonne E-word. And while she was equally adamant that it was a last-ditch solution and that Tarot looked like he was in a good spot vis-a-vis recovery, she also told me bluntly how much this *could* cost. I told her what I had and how high I could go, then I cried. I didn't know I had that many tears left, but I gave them all right there over his furry little face.

but I have to do what I can. He deserves it, and I'm just too damned scared of the alternative. she told me of one test they might have to do which would knock a huge hole in my budget. How could I adequately explain the Tarot-shaped hole that will appear in my life otherwise?

But if curing him ruins his quality of life, I know what we have to do. I won't let him live like a vegetable. but I'm scared that I won't be able to say the words.

It's just too fucking crazy for me; I'm sitting here and trying to reconcile myself to the idea that someone's health has a dollar value on it, and whereas in a former life I would have said to make him better no matter what the cost, I'm in the position of possibly losing him because I can't even think of asking for more help than I have received, but the fact is that my cat is probably going to die on me. Right now I desperately wish I'd never walked out on my career. Funny how something as crass as money can have such a fundamental effect on my happiness.

Over supper to-night, Mystie handed me a blank cheque. I tried to act nonchalant about it because accepting help is *such* a fricking assjob for me, but I really don't even know what to say at this point. I just hope that all of this results in a happy, healthy cat. Apparently I'm not the only one who needs it.

But no matter what (by which I mean Tarot dead or Tarot alive), after this hellish ordeal is over, everyone who's helping Tarot out here is getting my undying gratitude and some sort of goddamned token.

||Gods save the Queen,

back || forth

older shite

One last little note... - 09.21.2006

de-stressing, biking and terrorism - 06.06.2006

Mildly stressed... - 05.29.2006

More crime stupidity - 05.28.2006

Scary stuff - 05.25.2006

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