A Wondrous Reason to Be Grateful

Back in 2014, Maggie, one of the three cats with whom I live, was diagnosed with an enlarged heart. The vet’s attitude suggested that this was just par for the course. She didn’t suggest any medication, so I simply brought Maggie home.

In 2017, when that same vet missed a fracture Maggie had, I took her to another vet who prescribed a pill for Maggie to take which would help make her heart beat more regularly. At home once again, she refused to swallow the crushed pill in her canned food.

Flummoxed, I simply stopped giving the medication to her. I thought there was only one medication available, so why return to the vet. Moreover, because I’ve never talked at any depth with anyone with heart problems, I didn’t know the implications of an enlarged heart; I’d asked no questions of either vet. So foolish. So very foolish of me.

Several months passed with me being unaware of the severity of the condition or the availability of another medication. Maggie became more and more listless. Less curious. She stopped jumping up on the vanity counter to drink water from the faucet. She stopped jumping up on my bed to sleep. She ate less and less. In a human, I’d say she became apathetic.

Finally, this past June, when her eyes became lackluster, I took her back to the second vet. This time I felt real fear for her life and asked the crucial questions I should have asked nearly four years before. In truth, I became the advocate for Maggie that I’ve always been for myself when I was ill.

When I took Maggie in, my news that she hadn’t taken the pills and I’d done nothing about that obviously upset the vet. It was then I learned that because Maggie’s heart is enlarged, it has to work harder to pump the same amount of blood. So the heart is less efficient. The most alarming news was that an enlarged heart could lead to heart failure and early death. The truth came out—most cats live only about 3 years after diagnosis.

At the time of the initial diagnosis, Maggie was 6 years old. By the time I saw the second vet in 2017, she was 9 years old. By June 2018 when I took her to that vet the second time, she was 10 years old. That’s when the vet prescribed a second medication—a crème—and asked me to bring Maggie back in six months.

So for six months, I’ve applied the crème each morning to the inside smooth part of one of Maggie’s ears. (The blood vessels there are close to the surface, so the medication is quickly absorbed.) While nothing can make the heart shrink to its normal size, the medication can keep the heart from enlarging farther. It can also help keep the heartbeat regular.

Last week, Maggie and I went to the vet who listened to her heart and joyfully announced, “Her heartbeat is as regular as clock work! She’s doing fine! No murmur! No skips or misses!”

Then the vet weighed Maggie. “She’s the same weight as before,” she said, then added, “We don’t want her to gain weight. That would be hard on her heart.”

She handed Maggie back to me. Then the vet—her eyes shining—said, “Dee, she’s doing really well. The fact that she’s still alive—and over 10 years old—is amazing in itself. But the way her heart is beating is truly astounding. Just keep giving her the medication and come back in six months unless you get concerned.”

By this time, I’m grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat. “How much time does she have?” I ask.

“I can’t say. All I know is that she’s doing wonderfully well.”

With that, Maggie and I came home. Her being alive at 10 ½ and doing so well has put everything in perspective for me. As a sage said, “Don’t sweat the small things.” The success of my books is a small thing; the writing is the large thing. The writing and the cat lying here on the desk, snoozing and inspiring me to keep going.

Maggie is my Christmas miracle. My inspiration.

Peace.