Hospice...

Shortly after surviving my mother’s memorial in New York City, in the second week of November 2022, my partner and I had to say good-bye to our feline companion, Paj. He came to us from a rescue shelter run out of the home of a noble human being who just gives a damn. We knew his health was not the best and that we were providing a quiet, less busy alternative to living with upwards of 20 other cats. He absolutely deserved better — we were available and willing. The last time Paj saw the vet, in June of that year, the goal was to keep him happy, eating well, and comfortable.

That day in November, Paj was jaundiced, lethargic, not eating, and seemingly unable to find a comfortable position. His abdomen was swollen and tender due to the mass on his liver. Without delay we called our vet. We left shortly thereafter with confirmation we’d be seen just as soon as we could get there.

Allison, Paj, and I were incredibly fortunate to have a wonderful vet. After careful examination our worst fears were confirmed — we could take Paj home with us but it would truly just be hospice care — there were no other courses of treatment for Paj. We were in somewhat of a quandary. Paj was already significantly underweight and not well; we couldn’t know when Paj might be in such discomfort that he’d require emergency medical care. We do not live near the vet’s office. Winter was upon us - how fair would it be to have a pet in pain and NOT be able to obtain treatment.

Ultimately, we decided to share a peaceful goodbye with Paj that day. The vet offices had a quiet room in a less-busy area of their offices with a bench and blankets for us, a box of tissues.

As we sat through the administration of sedation and attended to departure, I lamented that we should all realize we’re born into hospice care in this world… and pondered, would people live their lives differently if this fact were adequately impressed upon them.

I arrived with nothing, save a seat in this body. When I depart, I will leave even that behind.