We had to take Squashies to the Emergency Clinic on Saturday. After several hours they diagnosed fever and of course, anemia. Her fever was 104.7f and her PCV was down to 16.
We are not sure if it's an infection or a result of the steroid withdraw, so we put her back on the prednisolone and started her on a broad-spectrum antibiotic. The results have been good. But we know that the long-term prognosis is not good if we can't find another Type B donor. The donation is complicated because after 2 random donors, her blood will now require cross-matching. So our small pool of Type B donors, is further decreased by the right antigen configuration.
We are still hoping that the interferon will go into high gear, and kill enough of the virus to have her bone marrow start producing her own cells. But time is not on our side.
I spent the weekend with her, curled up on the bed. We snuggled, I sang some of her songs. I cried. I told her stories to remind her of all the good times and adventures that we've had together. From the first moment she burst from her little cage at the rescue and stood on her tiny back legs to rub her cheek on my pants, claiming me as her's. The changes in her relationship with TK as he went from a sickly kitty that she took care of, to a boisterous, insulin stable mancat. The amazingly inventive games that she play by herself with her surrogate kittens, the "floofs". All the days sleeping on my desk as I work and the nights we slept together, her making sure we were always touching. The great van adventures. How she always guards the door while I'm taking a shower, and our girl-times. To her ever vigilant snoopervising.
She's never asked us for anything, but to love her, and she gives her love back with her head-butts and a purr that sounds like a freight train. She is such a integral part of my day, I can't imagine my life without her.
I pray that I can make the best decision for her.