Them's Fightin' Words

(Frankie and a favorite toy, a big honkin' catnip mouse)

Now I'm all for facing the challenges of life, in fact I relish them from time to time. Especially if/when things get humdrum in certain areas. But late last year, life started to unfold and went from unusual to sublimely ridiculous. Here's the gist:

For a few months, my once a quarter migraines decided they'd pay me a visit more often. Great! So I kept myself well stocked in Exedrin. But in the November timeframe, I got a whole new neat-o addition in the way of visual distortions. I was driving to McDonalds one morning on a day off, and the sun was just creeping up over the horizon. I get my mocha, start driving home and notice something odd. Thought it wasn't real, so I didn't pay attention to it at first, but then out of the corner of my vision it caught me again, so I honed in on it. I could see a neon whitish blue zigzag on the road, overlapping the lines marking the middle of the road to my home. It was like Vegas, but in my town. Weird!

Well, fast forward to late December, and not only was I having more migraines (a few a week), but they'd last several days at a time (the kind you should go to the doc for), and my visual distortions were increasing. Vibrating vision (not my entire field of, but parts), a dark spot at night in my left eye, and spotty vision that turned most of what I looked at indoors into an Impressionistic work of art. It was a little trippy.

Now let's back up a little bit and switch gears. It's mid December, and my middle cat Frankie gets what I call schmutz on his mouth near his chin on one side. He's gotten it before in another area, so I clean it as I did in the past and figure it'll go away. It didn't. By the time Christmas rolled around, it looked worse; fur had fallen out and inflammation started to set in. I wasn't looking forward to leaving him for a family visit out west, but knew my friends would take good care of him and his buddies, Josie and Moni.

I get back, and end up bringing Frankie in after the New Year to figure things out at the local vet. We viewed the issue as a rodent ulcer (not a literal rodent issue, but allergies), and treated it by rotating medicines every two weeks (antibiotics and steroids). After a month or so, I ended up back in, coincidentally the same week I started booking appointments for myself for glasses, and eventually to check out my own health issue with a specialist.

At the vet, the lead doc took one look at Frankie and said to me "You're treating him for rodent ulcer? This looks like cancer." The way he said it was very matter of fact, almost dead pan. I wanted to put up my dukes in defense of my little guy, and respond with "like hell it is!" Instead I sat frozen in the chair, the word cancer echoing in my head (one of two c words I hate), and asked very quietly what we should do next. We should do a biopsy on his mouth, that was next. Several days lapsed, and Frankie got his biopsy. A few days later, I got the results I didn't want to hear (squamous cell carcinoma - very aggressive stuff), and I began testing for my own issues. I didn't care about my issues though. I wanted Frankie better. He'd had a crappy beginning to his life until he came to my family, and didn't deserve any more pain.

The day of his diagnosis is a blur, but what I do remember is setting a lot of work in motion to 1) find out what could be done, 2) settle on a treatment and 3) get him there. By the grace of somebody, my Mom found a university not far from my parents (CSU vet cancer center). They run a plethora of clinical trials on new treatments for domesticated critters. We found a trial currently in work for Frankie's EXACT type of cancer. This couldn't have been a fluke, it was the chance he/we needed to take. I put in word to CSU, got a call from them the same evening (admittedly excited to hear about my cat). A week and a half later my Dad had flown to Orlando and back, with Frankie in tow. He had his treatment, and has been recuperating at my parent's for a week or so, occasionally pestering them in the wee hours of the morning (C'mon, it's cute!).

As for me, I've been through a few tests (MRI, spinal tap) that ruled out one thing or another, but a diagnosis did ring true. I have something called Intracranial Hypertension. The old term was Pseudotumor Cerebri. It's an overproduction of CSF (cerebrospinal fluid) and absorption issue, typically causing swelling in the cranium. Usually the main problem is swelling of the optic nerves, which leads to the migraines, visual distortions, and if left untreated results in blindness.

I don't believe it's a death sentence, and depending on what version you have you can actually rid yourself of the disease, which is great news for many. This is something that doesn't discriminate - it affects women and men, young and old (even kids), and every race. Weight seems to be a factor in some cases, so my doc has asked me to keep up with my exercise and weight loss goals, and by summer I may have staved this thing off (some meds may help too). If I end up still having it, then well, I'll see what I can do to help the IH Research Foundation and geneticists in terms of providing what I can from me towards finding a cure. The oddly bright side to this (and there is one) is I have a local friend who has this too - I think we can support each other towards a common goal.

In hindsight, I've been told I should not lament what has happened to either Frankie or I, especially the actions that have been taken. And they're right, as that'll only make me feel crappy, and I don't want to focus on the negative or the what if's. In fact I see this as pretty damned positive. We had a stroke of luck in finding what was needed, and so quickly. It's not always going to be that way, in the grand scheme of things. Going forward, both of us need to fight; Frankie, for his life and myself, for my sight. So far I think the little dude has proven to my family and I that he is a fighter and wants to live. I see him as a hero (big damn) in this respect, and will follow suit for my own reasons.

Note: Will post future updates on myself and Frankie when I can, and if the mood strikes. I feel it may help somebody out there. Maybe someone else with IH/PTC or feline cancer.

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Yeah, I have not posted anything on ConGaloosh 2010 yet, and I suck eggs for it. Been pretty busy, and I think now you can understand why. But I've a feeling I will be posting about it soon, with a few teasers for the 2011 event, which is still on like Donkey Kong.

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UPDATE 3/24/2011

Well, I've decided to put an update for Frankie here, rather than a long, drawn out post. Unfortunately his latest visit to CSU two weeks after his radiation treatment showed inflammation in his mouth, as though his cancer/tumor wasn't going away. My folks called me and put me on speakerphone so I could hear from Frankie's doc, and she noted what the next step was. Either do some sort of nerve deadening procedure to dull the pain, which may not work, or have him euthanized. I chose the latter. The poor guy has been through enough, and didn't deserve this sort of pain at what I still consider a young age (11). So, at around 4ish Colorado time while he was still under via sleepy meds, they introduced the euthenasia medicine, and Frankie traveled off to parts unknown.

I will miss the little guy. Looking around my home, I see toys, favorite areas for play or sleep everywhere. Makes it hard to look around without feeling sad. I'm sure the feelings will fade in time, as they do with the passing of all loved ones. Frankie, I think, may take longer to move on from than others. He sure was somethin' else. >^--^<

RIP Frankie Chester Copperpot (insert last name here)
**Chester was his original name via vets in WA