For nearly 11 years, Oliver has been my companion, my comfort and my healer. An orange-and-white tabby with a heart of gold, he has been by my side through life’s challenges – long before I even knew I needed healing.

Oliver is more than just a pet – he is my C-PTSD support animal, my steady presence through the ups and downs. He has made so many friends over the years – roommates, long-time friends, even a black lab he loved to chase and be chased all around the house. If you’ve followed his journey, or mine, you know how much he means to me.

But now, Oliver needs help.

His Battle with Lymphoma

Oliver has struggled with IBD since birth, a condition I did my best to manage despite the financial constraints of college and early career life. As I became more stable, I made his health a priority. But sometimes, time catches up faster than we can. His IBD has now progressed into lymphoma – and while that diagnosis was devastating, we are not giving up.

He’s undergoing aggressive chemotherapy and steroid treatments, with additional medications for nausea being discussed. Every day is a learning curve, from figuring out special diets to navigating his adrenal gland calcification, quite the unexpected complication.

His blood work remains stable so far, and for that, I am grateful. But I also know that can change in an instant.

The treatments have taken a toll on him in ways I never could have imagined. The tips of his ears have started to droop due to the steroid topical treatments, a small but heartbreaking reminder of everything his tiny body is going through. Every sign of change, every shift in his appearance, reminds me of this battle we're in together.

Watching His Energy Fade Has Been Heartbreaking

This was the cat who would race through the house, loving nothing more than the thrill of being chased. He played hide-and-seek with me, darting behind furniture, peeking out just long enough for me to find him before dashing off again. His excitement was impossible to miss – his tail would fluff up whenever he anticipated a treat.

But in the beginning stages of this fight, he was barely a shadow of himself – a ghost of the playful, mischievous cat I knew, wandering the house without purpose. His spark dimmed.

It was and still is gut-wrenching to watch. To see him almost disappear into himself, knowing he wants to play, to chase, to run – but simply cannot.

Now, there are glimmers of hope. Brief bursts of energy where he plays on the floor. And for those moments, he’s Oliver again. I hold onto those moments. I cherish them. And I look forward to the day when his floofy tail returns, puffed with excitement for one more treat.

Why We Need Support

I have pet insurance, but like so many of us know, insurance companies don’t always play fair. They consider his lymphoma an "underlying condition" from his IBD and won’t cover the costs – unless I pay $5,000 for an unnecessary test to confirm what we already know.

Beyond that, the costs keep adding up:

How You Can Help

I am not asking for charity, nor do I want to take away from anyone else’s struggles. But it takes a village to lift each other up and help carry each other’s burdens. If you feel led to support Oliver’s fight – whether through a donation, sharing this or lifting him up in prayer – I would be forever grateful.

And prayers work. If you can’t give, please pray for him. Pray for strength, healing and more good days than bad. God is listening.

Oliver is a fighter. I’ve been telling him since day one how strong he is. And fast. And brave.

I truly believe we will make it through this.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart – for reading, for caring and for being part of Oliver’s journey.