The Very Delicate Balance...

Death. It comes for us all, yet we live in a way and manner that feels impervious to death.  Like somehow, we, we are going to cheat it, out run it, avoid it, out pace it.  And it is the greatest delusion of living:  that death will not come for us...until we are ready, until we are older, until...

The hard truth is that death comes whenever the fuck it feels like it.  Piercing our thin veil in this life.  Puncturing the veneer of our delusion that we are somehow, not only are we going to avoid death, but also its handmaidens of aging and sickness as well.

I spent my evening last night tending to the litter of orphaned kittens I took in a week ago.  It is a labor of love for sure.  I’m tired and getting too old for this. But here they are nevertheless.  It has been an anxiety provoking week.  Lots of fears about their intake, their health and multiple trips to the vet.  

I very arrogantly thought they had rounded the corner into full life living...and I was brought back to the painful reality that none of us is secured a space among the living forever, or even perhaps a week.

The tiniest kitten was doing great.  They all were doing great.  They were thriving, doubling in weight in a week.  It was amazing.  I felt buoyant.  I was so very happy. 

Then last night, for no reason I could ascertain, she stopped eating.  She became lethargic and lost all muscle tone.  She began to fade.  I did everything I could to fight death.  I gave her sugar water for energy, I force fed her a little so she would have something to battle with...but she just got worse and worse.

I held her, powerless to keep her on this side of the veil.  I did everything I could think to do, and finally I just accepted that she was not going to make it.  And I held her all evening, waiting for her to die, but standing sentinel so that she would not leave this world, cold, alone and unattended.

Every time I thought she took her last breath, she would take another.  Then she had a full minute long seizure.  I was devastated.  I begged God to take her then.  Please end this suffering for us both.  I thought about taking matters into my own hands and ending her suffering, but I couldn’t do it, even though I knew she was likely suffering more remaining alive.  I know mercy screamed for my assistance.  But I could not do it.  It just isn’t in my nature.  I hated myself for feeling like I should do it, and then for not being able to do it. And then again for even thinking of such a thing.

I got a box out of the recycling to make a coffin for her until I could take her to the vet in the morning.  I sobbed uncontrollably for most of the evening.  I fed her siblings and noticed they too were not eating as well and having trouble latching. I felt despondent and sad and lonely and my heart shattered.

I fought death with everything I had for all of them.  And finally, I just had to accept that death was going to win...at least where she was concerned. 

I told my daughter.  We cried together over the phone.  Finally, I thought I would place her in the box, keep her warm and let her go.  But I couldn’t leave that tiny, fury frame in the box.  It was too cold, lonely and awful.  So I bundled her up in a washcloth and took her to bed with me.  I laid her on my chest and put my warm hand over her to keep her safe, warm and secure.

I fell asleep, though I tried to stay awake to be there when her moment came.  I prayed and cried and sobbed and prayed some more.  Mostly I prayed that God would take her.  Like now, please.  She was in pain, I was in pain. The suffering was just fucking awful.

But God must have been busy with someone else’s prayers because even as her breathing grew more shallow, she was still breathing, heart still beating.

I dozed off somewhere after 1 am.  Fitful sleep with lots of dreams and I startled awake at 4 am with a sharp pain on my chin...

It was her.  She was not only alive but full of spiciness and an intense hunger.  She bit me on my chin, woke me up and the tiny frame that had been limp and lifeless the night before, was now up on all fours, breathing, meowing and demanding I wake the fuck up and feed her.

So I did as I cried happy tears.

I cannot explain it.  I have no idea why she is still here.  She shouldn’t have made it.  She was so far gone.  So fucking far gone.  But she is here.  She has eaten twice this morning and is due for another feeding shortly.  She is back with her siblings, snuggled up in their furry comfort and warmth.  I do not know why or how, but I am immensely grateful.

Sometimes God doesn’t answer the prayers you pray because you are praying for the wrong thing.  Last night I prayed for her death, and God, forever the contrarian, refused my requests because somehow instead he answered hers to live.  I am so very grateful my prayers went unanswered.

Sometimes miracles come in the form of tiny, fury two week old kittens with sass and catitude.  Sometimes, God leads you to believe that hope is lost and the cause is over only to wake you to a new day with a renewed vigor, cause for living and a heart so full of gratitude that it feels like it might explode.

I know we are not out of the woods, there are many other hurdles to cross with tiny kittens.  Such a precarious line between here and not.

But today, I am celebrating the win, giving thanks to the benevolence of the creative intelligence that floats just beyond, while also giving a humble nod to the grim reaper who lurks in the shadowy doorway of my office/kitten hospital.  I know you were going to take her.  And I acquiesced when I could think of nothing else to do.  But thank you for giving her back to me.  Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!

I am grateful she and I walked the line last night.  We held onto this very delicate balance and live to see another day.  I will do my best not to take it for granted...but I know that part of living is buying into the delusion there will always be more time.

I know there is not a promise of time.  There is only the hope that springs eternal that we will cheat death one more day.  And today, I remain steadfast in my gratitude and knowledge that I did not cheat death at all.  Death was merciful and that makes me start crying...

Again, still...