My oncology checkup! 9 month progress report

Well, here we are again! Just sitting around waiting for medical attention. I'm feeling fine and don't mind sitting here with my pretty owner. The other one took this picture. To the extent that you can call it a picture - the composition is horrible! I'm here for a check up. I'm feeling fine (except for the ride in the PPU (personal prison unit) which always gets me in a bad mood!

We don't have to wait long and Maggie, the Vet Tech, comes in. After a few pleasantries and questions she checks my weight. I'm always a little self-conscious when my weight is checked. I don't know what that's all about because when I checked this morning, I was looking mighty fine. So it turns out in the last 5 months I've gone from 11 lb 2 oz to 11 lb 10 oz. That's good news for me to gain 8 ounces! That's good because that virtually guarantees that I'll continue to get morning and evening Fancy Feast Grilled Seafood dinner with gravy! All the Fancy Feast's with gravy are super!

One thing that this hospital needs to do is get with the times. All my European cat friends always talk in metric and this place never does. That half a pound that I've added on to my handsomeness is 226 grams. You know what's really funny about that? That's about what a rat weighs! That's funny and disgusting at the same time!

Maggie takes me to the "back room" and I sit around for awhile. There don't seem to be any clear escape routes. Oh - and the "back room" is no "back room" - it's a major veterinary medical facility with so many gizmos it makes your head spin.

Well, it doesn't take long for them to get in gear. Time is money! (I've never heard them say that, but I bet they do! They got to with all the fancy art work on the walls around here. Everything is paintings of cats or dogs. Obviously no paintings of cats with dogs because that would be perverted! Now that I think about it, it's probably the cat paintings that are pricey; the dog paintings look rather cheap. To be honest, I wouldn't even call them art. I don't want to get into a discussion of Aesthetics but these dog paintings could only be considered art from a Relativistic point of view. You know, like dog paintings are good compared to mouse poo! ha ha ha! I'm sure for a couple of packages of Twinkies one could hire someone with a PhD in post-modernism to try and make sense out of dog paintings, but I don't have time for that kind of crap. Now let's get back to me!

Here I'm getting the needle because they have to take some of my blood so they can do a complete blood count (a CDC). They'll be able to tell me how I'm doing. That's good because I wouldn't want an incomplete blood count! People would start wondering what trailer park I was from! I wonder if this test could tell if dogs are vampires? I bet quite a few of them are. It seems just like the sort of disgusting thing a dog would like to do. Lots of dogs are blood fetishists so it only stands to reason that lots of them are vampires. That's just common sense!

Well finally I get real medical attention. By "real" I mean from a real doctor. And not a regular vet type. My doctor, Dr Prouix is certified and stuff. His name sounds French but I don't think he is because he's really nice. He's a certified Diplomate in Oncology and in Radiation Oncology. I don't know what the hell that means but if you have two Diplomate things that has to be good! Plus, his titles sound really scientific. I like that - I don't want some witch doctor throwing some chicken bones to tell me how I'm doing!

Although I'm getting checked over plenty good, I'm starting to get a little tired of it. I get poked, blood drawn, my heart listened to by one of those stetho-thingies.

I THOUGHT things were going pretty good until THIS little procedure took place! Since the first time I went to a vet I've thought vet techs are sneaky. They always act really nice and then the next thing you know you either have a needle poked in you or something poked up your behind!

Well, I'm all done and hanging out with the two owners to see how I scored on the tests. Or whatever they do with them.

It's all good news too! My blood scores are all normal and Dr. P says that my cancer is for all practical purposes in remission. I'm a little uneasy about this "for all practical purposes" lingo, but I'll let it slide. I'm feeling fine and I'm certainly looking fine, and I have a great appetite so life seems good to me! You might even say I have an appetite for life! It's been five months since I was here last and I've gained a rat's worth of weight and they say I'm good. Of course, I know I'm good. Hell, I'm good when I'm bad! HA! I'm going out and hunt lizards now! Sweeet!

Rachel - another sexy new friend!

Rachel and Nicole came over today. They are both really pretty models from Washington. Why girls this pretty would want to hang out with my owner is beyond me.

This picture doesn't do her justice but then that wasn't my fault. She seems to like dogs more than cats and, frankly it showed in her attitude when she picked me up. Everyone around here seems to think they can just pick me up! She was holding me kinda funny and I flipped over which, as it turns out, gave me quite a face full! She's making that funny face because I, shall I say, extended my claws. Now what was really funny was when she decided she didn't want to hold me my claw grabbed her dress (see my right paw in the surveillance photo) and considerable hilarity ensued (as they say!). If my owner actually knew how to work that camera of his, he would have got a photo of THAT!

She was very nice but she needs some elementary lessons on how to handle cats. Especially VIP cats such as myself! And she should dump that yippy little Mexican dog of hers and get a real pet that would respect her as a woman - such as a cat like me. Not that I would go with her; I have it way too good here with savory Grilled Fancy Feast Seafood dinner with gravy two times a day!

Nicole - another sexy new friend!

Nicole and Rachel came over today. My owner thinks he's a photographer and they took all kinds of pictures. They are from Washington. They had the nerve to bring a damn dog with them. I couldn't believe it! If my owner knew about this there will be hell to pay!!

The damn dog actually tried to eat my food! It was a yippy little thing. It was a dog like in the Taco Bell commercials - I think they're called ratdogs. (haha!)

It's not clear at all to my why someone as pretty as her would want a snippy little loser dog like that! She's free to hug me all she wants, but I'd prefer to see less of that dog. It's hardly a dog really ... it's so dinky. If I were that dog, I'd be embarrassed to be a dog. And if I weren't that dog, and was some other dog, I'd beat the crap out of it!

Marie - my newest sexy new friend!

So it's a lazy Sunday afternoon and the door bell rings. It's really loud. I have enough trouble squeezing in my 18 hours of sleep everyday without being bothered by the doorbell. I wasn't expecting anybody so I had to investigate. By investigate I mean I lifted my head a little off of the pillow on the sofa and halfway opened one eye and saw the zipper of her jeans! I point this out because usually when I lift my head I'm expecting to see someone else's head. You know, like on top of their body. This girl is TALL! And she's got legs that don't end. uh oh ... that sounds a little predatory I guess. If I'm to believe the language in the last court injunction against me. Stupid dogs. But by traditional human measures, she's like around 6 feet tall! She's not like the shorties that usually wander around this dump.

So I don't know who the hell she is but right away she's like Oh what a cutie! and That's a great looking cat! and Does he mind if I pick him up?Where's she get off asking someone else if it's ok to pick me up?? In her defense she does seem to recognize that I'm special and unusually attractive. She doesn't seem like the type to dish out some Fancy Feast though.

It's rather obvious that if someone wants to pick me up - they should ask me. Since it's all about me! My owner goes like I don't care and it's getting all really annoying! Then this girl (people call her Marie) chases me down and gives me a big squeeze! (see surveillance photo) At first I thought what the heck?? But then she pulls me really close in and wants to bond with me.

I've got nothing against pretty girls wanting to bond with me! And I'm not going to start having problems with it now because she didn't know how to ask properly. I know not to look a gift horse in the mouth! Actually, I'm not even sure what that means, but it seems to fit somehow. I don't even like horses - they're too big, they smell alot and they don't poo in a litter box. Anyway, it turns out that she's pretty cool. She gets her picture taken alot which reminds me that the guy with the big camera hasn't taken my picture for several days. I think it's several days. It was at least 4 cans of Fancy Feast Ocean Buffet with Gravy ago. I don't worry about keeping time. Mostly because as long as I get fed I could care less. When you sleep 18 hours a day it's easy to lose track! HA!

She was fun but my owner (not the pretty one) kept chasing me off the set when I would try and see if she'd want to squeeze me some more. I'd welcome her back but I have no idea how to get ahold of her. I keep trying to let my litter changers know that I need a cat secretary to keep track of these kinds of things. An official cat secretary, not a temp or something! I could use a little more traffic like Marie around here. This place is about as exciting as being stuck in a drain pipe during the rain. One thing about her, she livens things up around this place! It's sure not lively right now. I'm going to take a nap so leave me alone.

Caretaker?? What's going on here?

Jennifer, my new caretaker!

So what's going on here you might be wondering. One of my litter changers (not the cute one) invites this person over and they're talking about me. My food needs, where my cancer pills are, and he even shows her my litter box! I know I'm a pretty public cat, being a celebrity and all, but where does he get off showing my litter box to a complete stranger? This isn't a rhetorical question! I'd like a damn answer to that!

I'm getting the feeling that the owners are going to desert me but there aren't any traveling things laying around like suitcases. I'm not very happy about this - as can be seen in the surveillance photo above. Now another thing becomes clear ... this chick works at Dr. Schoen's veterinary clinic & gulag. In fact, I overhear that she's a vet technician. I hear the word technician and I think of someone who is skilled at something - like maybe torturing cats!

I get abused around here only getting two feedings of Fancy Feast Sliced Ocean Fish Feast in Gravy a day and not getting petted nearly enough, but why call in a ringer? Well the next day I find out. The litter changers are leaving for a week and basically she's my babysitter! I'm 15 years old. Let's face it, when I was born she was probably in the 4th grade! I'm not sure what relevance that has, but I don't like being left in the care of strangers! My owners aren't good enough for me but at least they take care of my basic needs!

So here's the bottom line! She's been called in to "pill me" and make sure I got plenty of food and water. I'm getting a little tired of the new lingo around here. It's time to "pill Tommy" and referring to me as the "cancer cat." WTF!! The first day she comes I come out and she's all nice and stuff. Then like wham bang she's sticking pills down my mouth! She was pretty slick about this. I have to admit, even as street smart (and wilily) as I am, she got the best of me that day. She reminds me of the vet tech at the cancer clinic I go to. Vet techs are sneaky - I'm not going to mince words. I guess that's like a big job requirement or something!

She feeds me right after this and is serving me the Fancy Feast Grilled Tuna in Gravy (one of my favorites!). Then she leaves. Just walks out.

The next day she comes I'm not quite so trusting. But she pets me and talks to me and then damnit! she sticks two pills down my throat!! I'm getting kind of tired of this routine! But she serves the Fancy Feast Grilled Tuna in Gravy again and at least she knows how to make up for being so rude. She pets me quite a bit that day. I think she feels guilty sticking pills in me. I'll try and use that against her for more food.

Basically this routine goes on for a week. I'm getting lonely with just one visit a day with the bare minimum of adoration and one (not two) feedings a day. This ain't right. One of the four treaties in the Geneva Convention sets standards for non-combatant cat prisoners and that's just what I feel like - a prisoner in my own home! IS ANYBODY LISTENING! I'll look into this and Jennifer better hope that I don't find a good international cat law attorney to take my case because only one feeding a day of Fancy Feast has got to be against the law. That only makes sense!

A week alone got to be pretty dreary even with sleeping 18 hours a day and I have to admit I liked that at least Jennifer would come by. I don't think I'll hold her sticking pills down me against her. She was basically pretty nice to me and I think what happened was she was paid off by one of my owners (the mean one obviously) to do this to me. I hope she wasn't into all this just for the money because I'd hate to think the affection that came my way and the relationship (her admiration of me) that we developed wasn't real. At least she fed me the best Fancy Feast so she has good taste in cat food like my owners. She came by and scratched me behind the ears (it's my weak spot) and her and the big owner talked for awhile and nobody shoved pills down my mouth. I wasn't paying attention to them because it probably wasn't important and I was getting my head scratched as I just mentioned.

At least my owners got someone who is highly qualified to look after me. Most cats (and I'm not "most cats"!!) just get a neighbor or kid to come by. My status apparently requires a highly trained veterinary technician to visit me daily. She has 9 years of professional experience and she has a cat of her own. I won't settle for less in the future.

Things are starting to get back to normal around here. It's about feeding time so I gotta go!

Natalie - another one of those models that love me!

Well another model was hanging around here all day. I don't know how they do it with the flashes popping all the time. Makes me see funny so I don't hang around all that. But, as usually happens, she really took a liking to me. Her name is Natalie and she's kind of confusing because her hair was black not an hour before she grabbed me and the paparazzi snagged this photo.

I've never seen a person with pink hair before. And I'm pretty worldly too. I wasn't born yesterday! She's really pretty. I mean that's kind of obvious - I just don't want any more sexual harassment charges! I ain't got time for that!

Anyways, I was feeling the love and she can squeeze me anytime she wants. Well, not at feeding time. But any other time is ok.

THIS SUCKS!!

I have cancer. That's the diagnosis! How's THAT for some news! Dr Mallory called my owner up and we were hoping that the verdict would be feline inflammatory bowel disease that would explain my barfing and weight loss and it would suck less than cancer!

Well, I guess it's not my day!

They took a couple biopsies last time I went to the California Veterinary Specialists. That's when Dr Mallory poked that endoscopic torture tool down my throat (see surveillance photo below). They had drugged me so it's not like I gave a rat's ass when they did that, but the whole process is just annoying and, to be honest, I'm getting reeeaallly tired of it. I just keep thinking about how all this money my owners are spending on this stuff could be invested in additional Fancy Feast meals for me! Well, who said life is fair, right? I mean ... just ask any dog! ha ha ha!!

In this surveillance photo you can see when they took out the disgusting biopsy goop. YUK!
So anyways ... the good news (yeah, right ... good news!) is that I have a small cell cancer. I'm no expert but it seems like if you're going to have cancer it's best to have a smaller one than a bigger one. I mean, come on, that's just common sense. It's not like I need a PhD is histopathology stuff to figure that out! And the tests also showed that the cancer hasn't spread much in my lymph nodes. I didn't even know I HAD any lymph nodes! Now that's pretty funny! So on Thursday, they're going to drag my ass back to the vet facility to get poked and looked over by a oncology-type doctor. I hope they don't shave any more fur off of me - I'm walking around here looking like a french poodle. It's hard not to be a little self-conscious chasing rodents into the swimming pool looking like a french poodle!

Hey, guess what! The cancer is in my intestine. I'm taking a little satisfaction knowing that my cancer cells are swimming around in my POO! HA HA HA!!!!

I don't have any first hand stuff but I keep my ears in gear when the Vet calls anymore. It's like I want to know if the news is bad news or worse news! I heard my owner on the phone with the Doc and it sounds like they're going to inflict me with some chemotherapy. I'm not sure I need any therapy. I'm not a neurotic cat and I have no active psychoses anymore so I'll take a pass on this therapy stuff. We live in California so I can just imagine they got some wack-job new-age dumb-as-a-box-of-rocks therapy in mind for me. Last thing I need is another session in a sensory deprivation tank! Those things are like Starbucks out here - one on every corner. Hey! Maybe they'll get me a shaman to go into a trance and sing and dance around my litter box!

I'll have more to report after this next visit to the feline medical compound. The news could have been better but the important thing with this is to keep a good attitude. I draw my inspiration from Lance Armstrong. He had cancer, lost a nut, and came back to do some pretty good bike-riding. At least it was good enough to piss off the French which suits me just fine since I'm stuck here looking like a french poodle thanks to the shaving I got at the Vet's! Maybe I'll get one of those yellow Lance Armstrong bracelets. I could wear it as a collar and make a fashion statement while I'm fighting my disease! At least I'd be looking good while I lose weight. You'ld think I was trying to be the Kate Moss of the cat world or something. Now she's hot! But if you want to catch a glimpse of her make sure she's not standing sideways!

One last thing ... I wish my owner would stop referring to me as the Cancer Cat! Frankly, it seems a little insensitive. Maybe I'll start doing some elective barfing!

I'm outta here!