I am delighted to report that our snuggle-bunny Grady is home at Tabby’s Place, and made it through his surgery with flying colors – or, better yet, flying tabby stripes.
When Grady came home from the surgeon’s yesterday, we all flocked to him, elated to see our boy. I’ll confess that, as happy as I am to have Grady back, it’s a little difficult to see him at first. His entire right side has been shaved down, and there’s no ignoring the long scar that marks his incision. There will be no brushing this boy’s fluffy belly for quite some time.
But, after spending all of 30 seconds with Grady, it’s easy to forget about his scar and his shaved side (a “half-mohawk,” as our vet tech put it, since the fur along Grady’s spine now sticks out obviously – and adorably – on that side). Although he’s on some heavy-duty pain meds right now, Grady is every bit the lovey boy we know, and eagerly pressed his face into my hand, purring and “making biscuits” in the air.
And the news from the surgeon is something to make biscuits about – guarded biscuits, at least. Guarded would seem to be the word of the day for Grady. His biopsy reveals that Grady’s lung tumor was an adenocarcinoma, as expected, with no metastasis (hurrah for that!). The surgical team seems to have gotten the whole thing, but follow-up chemo is almost certainly indicated. The biopsy report describes Grady’s prognosis as guarded.
Now “guarded,” at first blush, didn’t strike me as particularly good. But a Google search of “guarded prognosis” yields a surprising measure of hope. Per WikiAnswers:
Guarded is better than Critical or Serious, and not as good as Stable. Usually, Guarded condition is on the good news side of the equation.
Yahoo! Answers adds:
A guarded prognosis is the middle ground between a “Fair” prognosis and a “Poor” prognosis. It means that due to other things going on with you (what we call co-morbidity) your prognosis is tenuous.
Either way, there’s hope for Grady.
Then again…we know that there is always hope for Grady. What we don’t know and can’t fully control is just what that will look like. Grady’s course of treatment, and the specifics of what he and we can expect, will become clearer after we consult with an oncologist. But I know with every fiber of my being that the love Grady inspires – and the love he will continue to receive every day of his life – is enormous, and dazzling, and very real.
4 thoughts on “Guarding Grady”
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: GO, G-MAN! GO, G-MAN! GO, G-MAN!
WELCOME HOME, SWEET GRADY BOY!!!!!!!!!! I am sure everyone is fighting to pet that wonderful big head and cover you with kisses! You are as handsome as ever and with all the love surrounding you, how can you miss, wonderful one?!
Hi Grady Puss,
I am glad that you are recuperating well. Please use those doeful eyes of yours to convince someone to nap with you for at least 1 hour a day while you get your strength back. We both know that it will sound very strange to your human friends, but it does work wonders. I hope the oncologist has even more good news.
Happy tears for the Gradster!!! I know he’s not out of the woods – but at least the woods are getting smaller in the distance behind him.
I miss seeing Grady in Suite A.
(I have a tabby named Gunner that looks just like him, white chin, yellow eyes and all.) He’s also a big mush.
Positive thoughts for Grady…
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