This is one of those weeks. You know the ones. Where the tough stuff comes out of the woodwork, and you are spinning around trying to make the right decision, but the right decision isn’t obvious to anyone. Least of all, you.
That’s my week. This week I found out the family cat, Percy, has cancer. Fibrosarcoma, to be specific. A very aggressive and very tough cancer to treat. So far, we’ve spent $1,000 to remove a huge tumor on Percy’s leg. His stitches from the surgery cover nearly half his 12-lb. body.
But it’s not over. In fact, it’s likely it will come back.
We are pet people. We love our pets. Percy ranks near the top of the family in terms of popularity, only challenged by the dog. Far above me, for sure.
We love him. And we are lucky. The huge tumor was big, but it wasn’t deep. We didn’t have to remove his leg to get the cancer. That was a real option, believe it or not.
But we are not wealthy people. We are normal people with two kids and a mortgage and the obligations that come with those things. We don’t have the money for extended cancer treatment, in this case radiation therapy.
What we do have is two kids who love their cat and not a lot of good options. Do we wait and see if the cancer comes back? That is likely only a matter of time. Do we spend another $1,000 on surgery to remove the next tumor that grows? Do we finance radiation therapy and tell the kids that Santa isn’t coming for the next five years and, by the way, we can’t pay college either? Or, perhaps the worst scenario, we spend the money, get the treatment and the cat dies anyway?
What the hell do we do?
It’s been a week. I don’t have any answers. All I know for sure is being a grown-up is highly overrated.