She healed up quite nicely and rapidly in my care. For four wonderful months she was free of her nasty wound and that dreaded "cone of shame". Then she lost the playful spring in her step and my worst fear came true. Her wound was back and it wasn't going away this time.
So now three months later, after trying every different trick possible to keep her from getting at her back, Honey is scheduled in for debridement and I'm terrified. I'm generally pretty good with being realistic and logical but for Honey, I'm just downright terrified. There's no doubt in my mind she's in the right hands. I'm truly blessed with an amazing vet care team. Their compassion and support is second to none. I wouldn't trust anyone else with Honey's care. So why am I scared? I'm scared because I know things may not turn out the way I want them to. There is really no other option though. Her wound has spread and she's becoming more uncomfortable so what kind of person would I be to not even take the one possible chance at improving her life? She's gained weight thankfully which is amazing... But.
But what if?
I despise that one word that has been nagging at me. But... I can't even finish the sentence or the thought in my brain. I am physically unable to form the thought, let alone accept anything other than she will pull through and come home in a few short days. Right?
My boyfriend is trying to prepare me. He knows that if anything negative happens with Honey during or after her surgery, I would likely shut down for days, if not weeks. I find the most difficult thing with rescue is the losses. Losses I shoulder myself despite knowing nothing I could have done would have changed the outcome. I don't take "failure" well. When I lose a rescue, I always blame myself. I understand my thoughts are unrealistic, however, these rescues are mine alone and a loss in my home or under my care means I am somehow responsible. This is the curse of being a highly emotional person. I have sobbed over every loss. I have questioned my role as someone who "rescues" and if I am in the right line of work. Maybe I'm just not cut out for it? Maybe I just care too much and I need to be able to turn off my emotions and become "hardened" like I've heard of some others... I can't. That's not me.
So here I am, laying in bed. I have about 6 cats in my room with me. Some are pets and some are rescues. They are my family. They are loved and they matter to me like any living creature or human matters. My home is quiet despite the romping around I hear downstairs, the purring in my ears, and the odd trill from Neo as he talks away to me from his bed. The silence is deafening because Honey is not here. Her sweet little moon face with her gorgeous emerald eyes with her black eyeliner. The most gentle and sweet cat you could ever have the pleasure of knowing. My Honey Girl is waiting for me. She trusts me. I just pray I will get to see those beautiful emerald eyes again. I need my Honey Girl as much as she needs me.