My begining of 2009, re-realization of the fragility of life

My little man, Butter (my kitty, who really is not so much a kitty as he is almost 7 years old now, but still my little baby), is sick. He almost died. I should have known about this, picked up the signs. My ignorance will haunt me for the years to come. We still don't know whats wrong with him, but I have been sitting up with him all night, drifting in and out sleep, leaving me half dead. I want the old him back. The question is, will I get it?

New Years Eve, we hospitalized him. New years day we were only permitted 2 visits. A baby cannot heal without love and attention. We brought him home last night. Still...

My heart is heavy with sorrow, but as my mother weeps quietly, I weep privately. I feel it is my calling to be strong, so that others may have burdens lightened. I will continue to spread myself thin as long as I can. But playing mother, on top of going back to school just might kill me. I don't know if I am strong enough to play this part. Please pray for me.

As I woke after a long, tiring first night of intensive care this morning, my family informed me that the dreaded, yet hoped for phone call from the doctor, had come. And so had the judgement. The prognosis: my baby has acute kidney failure.

He is dying.

The worst part of it all is, is that I could very much be the reason for this without even knowing I had played a part in it. I wonder how much harder it will be to sleep tonight. The cruelty of memory.

We have already put so much into keeping him alive. We have a chance at possibly starting his kidneys back up. Which will require 24/4 intensive care. And I will be the one to take care of him. At this point it is do or die. There is no turning back.

Oh how my heart aches because of my idiocy and stupidity. I feel his pain.

I wont give up on him. I will treat my baby as a little king everyday. I pray that as we invest more into him, that the new test results will be something positive. I pray that he begins to eat on his own. I want my little stud muffin to stay here, and be like how he was.

I wish he could talk, I would like to know what he is thinking. I wish I could speak his language. A conversation with those who are dying are quite meaningful and insightful.

I stay up with him, watch him constantly in the day, I am a servant to his every whim and need, all he need to do, is meow. His meow sounds full of pain, grief. It is hard watching him die. While I sit idly by and cannot do a thing. How awful. I cannot relieve his pain. I check on him every waking second. What will I do with myself when he is gone? Who can I talk to? He is irreplaceable. He may just be an animal, but he is my friend. And I will not give up on him. Not until I have exhausted every possible attempt, and then again. He has nursed my broken heart, I will nurse his hurting body.

Death is bitter. I do not know how much more of this my heart can take. How much sorrow can one heart deal with before it the strings finally snap, and the heart falls through the souls walls and breaks? Sometimes, I wish I could just have no strings so that it couldn't hurt.

There is much I could say about my little man, but words would never do him justice.