Hello all,
 
Hugs to those with lost, sick or angeled fuzzies!  Although as it now
turns out, I'm hugging myself, too...
 
It's the next morning after I got the news, and I'm still in shock.  I
still can't stop crying.  I apologize in advance if this gets a little
long and/or rambly.
 
On the tip of a wonderful shelter mommy I know, I took Grommie to the
vet yesterday to have her checked out.  You all may remember that I've
periodically been writing in about weird poops and the way that she got so
sick right after we brought in her "rescue brother" Quincy - glassy-eyed,
spacey, not eating, diarrhea, whole nine yards.  Well, this shelter mommy
(angel in disguise) suggested in no uncertain terms that I go and get
Grommie's blood glucose level looked at.
 
Luckily, I found my new vet free for a short while last night, and took her
on over.  She bounced in her carrier, and loved getting to interact with
the other ferrets in the waiting room.  When she got in, the nice vet
dilated her eyes (didn't like that), looked in her ears (liked that even
less) and drew some blood (I have no idea if she liked the gas or not,
probably not).  When the results were through, he came out and said, yes,
she's got it, her blood glucose level is 65.  I was a little shocky then,
but OK - I thought (possibly incorrectly, I don't know), she's got cancer,
OK, she's still only 2, she won't live til 8 or 9 I know, but I might be
able to have her til at least 6, or 5.  I could deal with 5.  That would
give me three more years.
 
That's when the nice vet (and I really do mean that, I love him to death,
no sarcasm intended) said, "Gee, it's rare to see insulinoma in one so
young.  Are you sure of her age?"  I said no, as the woman I'd adopted her
from told me she was a little over two - could be two and a half, could
be three, right?  He looked at her teeth, and said she was at least five,
probably older.  She is scheduled to have pancreatic surgery next Friday,
which may give her a year, it may give her two.  I don't care what it
costs, I'd pay anything - I just don't want her to be in pain.  It makes me
so angry that anyone could lie like that - it wouldn't have mattered a whit
to me how old she is.  She is one of the loveliest, sweetest, kissiest
little girls on the planet, and I feel cheated.  That's what it comes down
to.  I've already made the decision to spend whatever I need to to make
sure her last years are wonderful, that's the least I can do to repay her
for these few short months that she's been with me.  I just wanted more
time, my God, I just wanted more time, please!!!!!  It kills me to think
that she spent five years with people who didn't see how special and
wonderful she is, but it makes me grateful and thankful that I ended up
with her.  That she wanted to come and live her last with me.  I must end
this post now, and go pet her while she's dreaming good dreams of Foamy
Fries and playtime and hiding under the armoire...
 
If anyone has any advice for me, or related experiences, I'd love to hear
them. This is my first experience, and I hear it's one of the worst things
you can go through.
 
Thanks for listening,
Caitie, Grommie and Quincy
[Posted in FML issue 3332]