Slow and reluctant procession.

Angel (god I miss her skinny face, like it used to be in the icon) has a vet appointment tonight. Going to see about managing the discomfort, I guess (I've been giving her the morphine in her ears--or was it codeine?--but it's nearly done), and get a better idea of how much longer she has.

If it's a fortnight I'll be shocked. I'm guessing a week. Maybe less, maybe a day or so more.

She's been drooling a lot, sticky clear stuff (occasionally with a little blood), and losing weight, and having a little trouble cleaning herself (mostly she drools onto her tail when she's curled up, and it mats). Her breath smells terrible. But she's still eating and purring. And her jaw's... well. I'd call the cancer as having the total volume of a hard-boiled egg, now, although wider and flatter. It's started to spread across her jaw; I can feel it on her left, now. And she doesn't close her mouth all the way anymore.

I'm kind of glad my computer's out at home. Less distractions, more curling up with the cat.

Word from the vet.

Pretty much as expected. We got the very kind "We'll support you whenever you make the decision" speech from the vet, antibiotics to maybe help with her breath in case an infection's causing it, more codeine, and an anti-inflammatory to hopefully help with the swelling.

She weighs 3.2 kilos. She weighed 4.0 kilos when she visited the vet's two months ago.

...erm. Yeah. Tonight is a night for curling up with cat, coolers, and mildly snarky and entertaining dialogue from the Winchester boys.