Somebody Up There Hates My Pets...Or Me, Part 3

So, in the roller coaster of news concerning my cat, she started having labored breathing with a kind of rattley sound last night and, concerned, Sharon ran her back in at about 3 am. First they found that she had fluid in her lungs and later, after having confined her to an oxygen tent and running myriad tests, determined she is experiencing congestive heart failure; probably due to the physiological stress her body has undergone over the past few days.

She's responding to some treatment they're giving her in order to relieve the lung fluid, but it remains to be seen how she will respond to heart medication. She could live from a few days to a couple of years, depending on how manageable is the condition. Looking back, we can't see a single point where we've misstepped in terms of getting her treated. Nevertheless, we're once again faced with a pet that's experiencing an insanely unfair and untimely set of life-shortening health issues. The omnipresent realization, also, is that we're into this a dollar amount which, like the national deficit, has exceeded our capacity to even plan paying, and is into the realm of numbers better wrangled by astronomers and geologists.

What we're wishing for at this point is that she can return home at least be with us until she has the chance to heal from the discomfort of her surgery and be able to have a period of leisure & relaxation before the end.

Of course, that is trusting to hope, which has long since forsaken these lands.