My Girl

Hissyfit is finally home after being released from hospital.

For now.

They want her back soon for chemo.

She spent her day lying on a pillow I put down for her. A princess deserves a dais. But a princess who has been sliced open like a fish, from under her chin, all the way down, deserves whatever she fucking wants.

I've tried to comfort her, but--for the first time in her existence--she doesn't want to be talked to, or petted, or anything. I was the only one who could get her to purr and even EAT at the hospital. But now, she just wants me to GTFO and DIAF.

It hurts so much to see her like this, and its worse because she's given me utter devotion
and support through my illness. I was looking forward to the honour of giving her back any small comfort I could.

So I've lost comfort both ways.

The doctors say she's going really well. The actual word used was 'amazing'. She's lost a lot of weight, but over late summer and into fall she has gone from her scrawny self to, well, ball shaped. I think she ate her feelings.

But that gave her reserves, so after not eating for a week, she looks normal sized. She's eating now, but she's having a horrible time digesting her food. Missing most of your intestine will do that. Her doctors insist she'll adjust. They also insisted that after what we've done with Phoenix, they expect to be treating her--and him--for years.

That choked me up a bit.

But hey, if it was all on stubbornness, refusing to give up or let go, they can fucking count on it...

Cancer Like Lightning

While I was lying in her cage at the hospital, talking and petting in such a way that she could not resist the goo and the purr, we got confirmation.

The biopsy of Hissyfit's tumour confirmed she has terminal lymphoma.

Yes, the same cancer as Phoenix, and only months after his diagnosis.

And they aren't even biological siblings.

It just...breaks all reason.

And hearts. Those the deepest.

Although, once again, we are as blessed as we are cursed. The tumour had ruptured her bowel, flooding her abdomen with bacteria. It would have killed her in less than two days.

Bless all for this family's closeness, and, even more important, crazy ass stubbornness...

Operation Stealth Ninja Glittery Pink Rhino Project

I have received my Rhino Piece from our Supreme Overlord / Badass Angel.

Curse you, Canada Post! I'm in Group 2, 31 of 61.

Although...it actually arrived here, even with its envelope gutted. Something CP likes to do to all my mail it doesn't actually lose or utterly destroy.

Through slicing open and taking whatever they find interesting, CP has most of my contributor copies. I mean, really now. Do they truly think those are going to become precious? And they always send along the empty envelope, so I know what they did.

But although this envelope was sliced open, somehow,the Rhino Piece arrived. In pristine condition. A miracle? Or Canada Post's trembling fear of our Overlord?

I think we all know the answer to that.

Now, I just need to find the other 60 minions of Group 2...

Torn Apart

Hissy has just gone in for emergency surgery.

The tumour they found in her abdomen--Stop. I know. But the concept of irony and its bitter funny? Just makes me feel sick right now--the tumour perforated her intestines. They not only need to get the growth out, they need to scrabble to repair as much as they can.

Even if all goes well, she is going to be in the hospital for days.

The SU's awkward--but still determined--persistence hit major affirmation today.

At the vet's, it was all no temp, no pain, nothing wrong, go home.

But I have been merciless nagging the SU to listen to instincts and feelings. They're not everything, but we have them for a reason.

Well. Even though I did not pomp back with an Alec Guiness 'I told You So', each time, or any time, some situ exploded and the SU ended up pacing in frenzy and self-flagellating with "I KNEW I should / shouldn't have..."

Even without the dub of Obi Wan, the SU did not back down. Probably rolling their eyes and snarking, the vet did an ultrasound.

Hello tumour!

And hello to referral to Brilliant Hospital: I was expecting you.

But even the good doctors were confused and horrified. The scans show this thing is ripping her insides apart. Yet she has no sign of fever or pain.

They just don't know my Hissy girl.

One Christmas Eve, we noticed her limping. Just a tiny bit. The SU decided she had just strained a paw somehow.

Then I caught a glimpse of her leg in brighter light...and totally lost my shit.

Her leg was black.

Not her fur.

Her SKIN was black.

Emergency vet visit immediately deployed.

(This is why our vets don't suck completely; they ENCOURAGE 24 hr access.)

Anyway, it turned out one of her claws had decided to curl back and grow INTO her foot. It had grown VERY deep into the pad of her paw, and the resulting infection got so bad that, yes, her whole leg was black. We never got a clear answer on just how much longer before she either died or lost her freakin leg. But, better not to know.

Her and pills is whole 'nother epic. It has given her both the nick--and the verb--'Linda Hamilton'....

Thing is, she has an established medical history of having a horrible condition, but showing no sign at all of fever or what should be excruciating pain.

I'd give them all some Lenore Eye, except I'm told some of them teared up for us.

As much as I'm sick over this surgery, I'm also dreading when she wakes up. Because I know she's going to be utterly terrified...and there is absolutely nothing I can do...

Fuck.

Cancer Squared

No point in fucking around.

I just heard from the SU.

Hissy has been diagnosed with Cancer.

The fates are cruel.

But this?

We're fucking cursed, I swear.

My girl is at the hospital now, with her own referral and the best doctors on this continent. They'll be giving her tests all day, trying to determine if chemo or surgery can give her more or better time.

Pheen heard me crying, and came upstairs to comfort me. I can't explain to him what's happened, but he knows it's bad. When the pain of my illness makes me scream and cry, he doesn't come. Not really. It's...routine, I guess, so he ignores it. This time, he felt srs bsns.

I had designed Eternity Circles for both my guys, and I just found an artisan willing to make them. They'll wear the pendants just like they did their cat tags, but each one has a personal message, as well as their name. And these ones can't tarnish. They're forever, just like family.

I couldn't make them just as I wanted; I couldn't afford to. But really, nothing I could make would be as beautiful as they are.

The Circles were designed so that they are reversible and can be threaded onto a necklace. And when they can no longer carry them, I will wear my children at my heart for however long my life is....

Valentines Day...and the rest of my poor heart, was irrevocably broken...

Of course.

Hiss

As I type this, Hissy is on her way to the vet.

She's stopped eating. And drinking. She doesn't come when she's called.

Yes, Hissy always reported immediately when called. She's always been a...confused dog in a cat's body.

So she's seeing a doctor. We don't fuck around with medical stuff here. We know better. We learned it in the worst ways.

I should be with her, but it wasn't an option even mentioned. My own medical condition is currently...very grim, and I think the SU made the unilateral decision to worry sick about one person. Not two.

But I feel horrible. Not just because of my medical situ, natch. Not just because I could lose Phoenix and Hissyfit, together. The utter agony of the prospect...but you can't control fate. The same thing that brought them to me was always going to take them away. But you always think it will be later, so later...so late as to be never. You have to, or you'd refuse to connect to anyone.

And that, that will bring you more pain than it saves...

I feel so bad because I'm not there. And she's seeing the vet, not the hospital. You need a referral to get access to the good doctors. She doesn't get to coast in because her brother has one. But I feel the most horror because she left here in a cat carrier.

Hissy is terrified of leaving the house. She will be screaming herself hoarse in her terror, the whole time she is out.

The way she is supposed to go to the vet's is: inside a bag.

More specifically, inside my black pleather backpack. I wear it in reverse, and buckle it in with me. I keep the bag closed, except for having enough room for me to slip one hand in, to keep pressed against her, as I talk to her, constantly, trying to remind her that at least she's not alone, that she is loved.

There's no frantic screaming this way. Though, of course, we're both still scared.

But I'm not there.

I know this was an obvious logical decision for the SU. But I know that, right now, she's frantic with terror. And it feels like my stomach is being cut out with broken glass.

With sick, and with shame...

Sign of the Apocalypse #4325834584773 (...or maybe #4325834584778...the writing in this rescued Illuminated Manuscript is such a BITCH...)

I am watching Bieber on my Daily Show.

BIEBER.

And he is actually....funny?

I think. I think, I...

I AM LAUGHING AT THE FETUS.

In a way he meant me too, rather than in that vaguely guilty--but also cringingly sympathetic--way I laugh at most teenagers. When they are obliviously acting like stupid asshats.

Because we all did that. Even the sweetest and most logical of us. We at least have a yearbook photo--or, ick, a write up--that now makes us feel sick if thrown at us. At the time, everything seems deadly serious and perfectly normal--even beautiful or badass--and then five years or ten or so later, the hormone levels drop off into 'sane'...and the lifetime mortification begins.

How much worse is that when you're famous, and every awkward mistake you've ever managed is preserved--and thrown in your face over and over and over...

We live in a world where the Poetry of Shame you wrote at fifteen is preserved worldwide FOREVER...

Even if you're not The Fetus.

And German doesn't exist in America:



I..I just can't even watch. My secondhand embarrassment is so intense I nearly pass out.

I'd say that I should take some comfort that he lies and IDs himself as American, but no. As humiliating as he is, it deeply DEEPLY pisses me off when Canadians, usually whoring for money, try to pass as American.

Of course, I have extra acidic bile to spit about it because I've had so many editors try to force me to do the same....stabby stabby stab...

Not So Silent Hill

My neighbour just started his snowblower.

He has no idea that the only reason I'm not out there feeding him to it is that the sound, instantly, amped my migraine to the point where I couldn't see. And it brought back the ringing in my ears. It's a piercing blare, like a school bell, where the kids are never let out.

Probably something from Silent Hill...

(The original, thank you. Or 2, we can go for two. Pyramid Head is def going at my innards with that knife. That scraping horror, bigger than an old growth tree. Although, given it's sources, I'm sure it is all about...wood. But the important thing is, hey, focus now, is: the others don't exist. Not in my canon. Not in anyone's. Not even in the most fragile--and rusted, natch--trebuchet ).

Well.

I can't do anything about the vision, or the hearing, or the pain that has kept me awake for weeks.

But I am wearing my ear buds, plugged into nothing. It's the only thing left I can do, that won't make the pain worse.

And--of course--I've been summoned to see the specialist this afternoon. :|

Because, clearly, what I really need is for things to get worse...

This is why I really need Castiel.



THAT is some sleep I can use.

He won't waste words on the medical community...



Because, lo, actions have clearer meaning...



And now, we return to regular programming: back to the fetal position, grimacing in agony at the sound of my own heartbeat...