It was a grueling three months after Oliver died. The first month I spent pretty much withdrawn from the world in front on my computer at home. I have never cried so much in my adult life. The second month was very tumultuous. I was on my way back from being withdrawn, but was totally disoriented and unsure of what emotions went where.
The number of people that I lashed-out at was substantial. Lots of emotional pain and not knowing where it was coming from. It wasn't until towards the end of January when I got the results of Oliver necropsy that the reason for my emotional upset became apparent.
What I did not... what no one knew was that Oliver had cancer. It was a round cell cancer that invaded his body. It was in his spleen, liver, pancreas, and bone marrow. I do not fault anyone for not finding this cancer earlier. It was an atypical round-cell cancer in that it did not stain dark as such cancers usually do.
The cancer cells stained only moderately and would have been very hard to pick up on in the biopsies that they took of his liver.
Since I did not know that Oliver had this cancer, I felt like a complete failure that Oliver only lived 14 months after he was first diagnosed with CRF. I knew from my reading that with proper care, cats caught early could live another 3 or 4 years.
As a result, unconsciously, I blamed myself for what appeared to be Oliver's untimely death.
As it turns out, because I allowed Dr Fogle to perform the biopsies on Oliver's liver and the results of those prompted Dr. Fogle to start on low-dose chemotherapy to treat the apparently idiopathic liver disease, I unwittingly helped to extend his life. This is because the treatment for the liver disease is the same that would be used for this type of cancer.
Had I not gone through with these test as Dr. Fogle had suggested, Oliver would have died much sooner from the cancer.
So, in short. Instead of failing miserably, I actually did it right after all.