Stacy Horn

Because Buddy is in such bad shape, instead of going for something really heavy duty right now, the oncologist started Buddy on a stronger form of the same chemo he’s already on. If he does well, we’ll move up to a more powerful drug.

I should start seeing results in three days. Because it’s a similar chemo it might not do anything. If it doesn’t then that’s that, because the oncologist doesn’t think he can tolerate anything else at this point. The oncologist also wanted to hospitalize Buddy for two days to give him iv fluids, and I passed on that and will instead give him sub-q fluids at home. It’s not ideal, but hospitalizing him was another level of misery I couldn’t heap on Buddy and the doctor said he couldn’t guarantee it would make much of a difference. Buddy also needs a lot of meds and he has to eat whether he wants to or not, but I can manage all of that.

I’m glad I’m doing this. I still feel sick and stressed, but I also have just a slight feeling of being at peace, from making sure I’m doing what I can without going overboard and causing him more distress. So far nothing I’m doing is overly hard on him, except for the vet trip, which is not horrible.

A nice young man feeding birds across the street from The Kills book signing yesterday.

I walked by a long line of young people lined up for a book signing on the block before my apartment. “Who’s signing books?” “The Kills.” “Uh-huh. Thanks.” Had to google them when I got home. The kid knew I had no clue.

I’m taking Buddy to an oncologist in the morning. I tried to resist this step, but I just know I will never forgive myself if I don’t explore every option. Goodbye savings. In the meantime, I am a wreck and a zombie.

People on line for The Kills book signing. The pulled back view below.

By the way, this is happening at the Marc Jacobs bookstore. Yes, you heard right. The Marc Jacobs bookstore. I’m sure they would never in a million years stock any of my books, but that’s okay. They specialize in art books mostly.

But Helen Gurley Brown never stopped. I’m taking a brief break from Buddy posting because yay! Out of the blue he’s having a little bit of a rally. I don’t suspect it will last long, but he’s eating a little, he’s more alert and moving about, and curling up with me again. I’m going out for supplies and to swim, and then I’m coming back to curl up with him for however long the Buddy-rally window of opportunity lasts.

I was up at Hearst Magazines on Wednesday. The fountain was lit pink to honor the memory of Helen Gurley Brown …

My host gave me a tour of the place, like the Good Housekeeping testing rooms. They really do test the products before giving them their seal of approval. Then I was shown Helen Gurley Brown’s typewriter (it should be at MOMA, the thing is a work of art) followed by an ever-so-brief peek at her office. They told me that every day, at some point, she put aside whatever she was working on and got up and danced. I could so see it.

The room wasn’t as big as you might imagine, but it’s the size I would have preferred too. Big offices are a macho thing I think, and they tend to feel cavernous and cold. This office was not teeny, but it was human-sized and had two walls of windows with the most beautiful views. It felt like a perch in heaven. It was packed with personal objects, basically everything about it gave it a warm, comfortable feel. I could see not being able to resist dancing around in on office like this. “Woohoo! This is my life! I must dance!”

I want to go back to dancing every day like that. I mean, regardless of what is going on in your life, what the hell? As long as you’re still alive. Although I do have a day coming up that won’t be danceable, there will always be days like that, one must concede. But I could dance today.

I’ve been afraid to post because I’m just so ridiculously attached to my cats and I’m concerned that I might sound, well, ridiculous. I’ve also been avoiding taking pictures of Buddy because he’s not looking his best, and I thought I shouldn’t record him now in order to allow these images to fade later.

But today he’s rallied a little bit and so I took a shot. He’s seriously jaundiced but it doesn’t show up so much in this photograph, I don’t think anyway. I think he looks beautiful. You’d never know he had small cell gastrointestinal lymphoma, and now large cell lymphoma, with involvement in his liver, spleen and kidneys, and forget his blood tests results. Everything you don’t want elevated is elevated.

But just in case someone comes along whose cat was recently diagnosed with small cell gastrointestinal lymphoma, do not despair. My cat has had this for close to three years. You might still have your cat around for a long time yet.

All the tests came back with the worst possible results all the way down the line. There’s nothing more to do but wait, and pick the right time. I’m so destroyed I don’t really know what to say right now. Everything in life gets easier to cope with over time except this, apparently.

I’m a wreck, but I’m trying not to be a wreck and be there for Buddy, to help him through the worst thing every creature alive must face. Why did he have to face it so soon? He’s only 12. Why do I never have cats who live to 18 or more?? Every time I look at him my heart breaks. Insane, I know.

Finney, thankfully, is oblivious. He just wants to end the life of some poor sweet pigeon.