Rocky has been losing weight lately. He has always been a husky (fat) cat, and lately I could feel his hip bones when I petted him. So Thursday, we went to the vet.
The vet thinks Rocky may have a thyroid problem. If so, we have three options:
1. Daily medication for the rest of his life.
2. Surgery to remove the thyroid gland, followed by daily medication for the rest of his life.
3. Implantation of radium pellets into his thyroid, which would cure the problem, but would require total isolation for one month after the surgery, until he becomes non-radioactive. Um, that's not really an option, as far as I'm concerned.
We won't know anything until the blood test results come back, some time this week. And you should have seen the amount of blood they took out of that cat! Holy cow!
I am scared shitless right now. But also almost hoping that it is a thyroid problem, because at least that is treatable. (And the medication he would be taking would be the exact same medication they give people, albeit at a lesser dose.)
Look, I'm not stupid. (OK, some people would argue that point, but that's neither here nor there.) Rocky is 15 years old, and I know that he's not going to live forever. But I want his passing, when it comes, to be a peaceful one. I can't bear the thought of continued weight loss, spiraling health problems, and euthanasia. So while it sucks, at least the thyroid thing is treatable, right?
I don't feel so good right now. And neither does Rocky.