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]