Help me pay for Chookie's treatment!

Hi, this is Kate. If you know me, you know my cat, Chookie. She is my absolute darling and inextricably a part of my person.

Right at the beginning of March, I took Chook to the emergency vet hospital in Hollywood. Her appetite had decreased slowly and then quickly and she wasn’t acting herself and I knew that she needed immediate care. I remember speaking, panicking, into the phone with my mother, over 7,000 miles away, scrambling to find a vet I could take her to on such short notice. I had an appointment with her primary vet in Santa Monica for two days from now, but it wasn’t soon enough. She asked me, “Kate, are you worried she might not make it through the night?” and I answered, “Yes.” I couldn’t believe that I’d found myself in a situation like this. How could this be happening? She has to be fine because she is my girl and I’ve mapped out the next ten years of our lives together.

We decided that I should take her to an emergency vet.

The vet tech took her, then eventually put me in a little room alone. As the hours ticked by, I realized that this might not be okay. This might be something big, something that won’t resolve. I have never been so scared in my life. They did blood work. Not looking good. The ultrasound technician had already gone home for the day. She’d be back in the morning. They wanted to keep her overnight, already the bills and estimates they were handing me were piling up. I asked if I could take her home and bring her back in the morning. The tech asked the doctor, she said it should be okay. I studied her. Is she confident? I took Chookie home and brought her back the next day. A drop off.

I went to my parents house to be with my sister, while I waited for a call from the doctor. My phone rings. I can tell by the sympathetic tone in the doctor’s voice. Something about a mass. I called my parents, they were on a trip in Australia. “Please come home.” I begged. My dad handed the phone to my mom in the shower. There was sobbing coming from both ends. I’ve never cried so hard. The sound of this moment was one of the worst things I’ve ever heard. A horrendous wailing that emitted from four separate people across two hemispheres. Sobs that shook my entire body and then turned into sniffling that turned into weeping that turned back into sobbing.

There was never a twenty-something year old Kate that didn’t have Chookie by her side. It was never supposed to be in the cards and I hadn’t considered it for a heartbeat.

A couple days later, Chookie was diagnosed with high grade gastric lymphoma with a mass in the lining of her stomach that had spread to her kidney. Outlook bad.

I have never met a cat so enthusiastic about life. So happy to love and be loved. I thought to myself, “There’s got to be a million cats who would love to die.” Not Chook. As I write this, it sounds stupid and I can’t help but laugh at myself, but ask anyone who’s ever met this damn cat and they will agree. Chookie wakes up every morning with a fervor for life that I can only admire and work to emulate in mine.

I scoured the internet for feline oncologists in LA. I found an amazing doctor in Studio City that could see Chookie the next day. My parents came with. Yes, they came home to LA. Can you believe it? Hopped on a plane to LA and were in the Uber to the airport before the flight had even been confirmed. Everyday I am filled with a wave of gratitude that billows through me like a spell. I am so lucky.

After meeting with the doctor, I went home. Even with chemotherapy, the odds were not in Chook’s favor. Do I do this? Do I sign Chookie up for something that has full potential to really, really suck for her? Do I sign myself up for thousands of dollars worth of medical bills for a treatment plan that has full potential to not even work? Or do I continue with the palliative care I’ve been giving her thus far and try to enjoy the month or two with her that I hopefully have left?

I opted to do one treatment. Let’s see. I have to try.

Now we are six treatments in. There are a couple months left to go, but starting two weeks from now the treatments will become less frequent and will continue that way until finally we can call her done.

So far chemotherapy has been a miracle. I still can’t believe it. God, it’d just be so typical that Chookie would be the cat to beat cancer. Just add it to the list. But, unfortunately, her treatment isn’t done yet. Thus far I have taken care of all bills myself, save for maybe one or two check up appointments, thanks to the generosity of my family. I created this GoFundMe because I know there are many, many people who have been touched by Chookie that would probably feel pretty good about themselves if they were to donate $5 or perhaps share it with a munificent empath.

The fundraising goal I set would cover the next treatment plus an ultrasound. It wouldn’t quite cover everything that’s left but it would help a TON. It would mean the world to me if you were able to give even a nickel, not joking here lol.

I feel so unbelievably grateful to be surrounded by such warmth during this relatively f*cked up time. Thank you.

I’ve linked to a little speech I wrote about and for Chookie, that I gave to my family a couple weeks ago.