Molly survived heartworm about eight years ago, so now she is starting a campaign against a second invader; a lymphoma in her small intestine. It is a slow growing kind, which the vet says is treatable and probably curable, so she tells us to be optimistic.
She is taking pills twice per day, twelve different medications, and is reasonably cooperative in that process, merely raising one paw in protest and looking somewhat indignant afterward. She does get treats once the process is finished. She also gets chemotherapy at the vet every three weeks. The staff there cracks up at her demeanor, which is all meek and passive until she reaches her limit and hisses at them.
The vet was describing the factors in our favor, one being that she is a Calico, who are very durable, and another that she is female, which are far tougher than males. “She’s not a wimpy male,” she was saying and caught me sort of glaring at her. “I’m talking about cats,” she added somewhat hastily. My wife cracked up.
“Listen,” I told the vet. ”I’ve had a heart attack, several strokes, severe emphysema, Parkinson’s Disease, a metal plate and seven fractures in my right leg and three in my left and I walk without a limp. Don’t talk to me about wimpy males.”
Anyway, she assured us that because of the type of chemotherapy and because cats are neurologically different than people, the therapy will have little or no effect on Molly and no, her hair will not fall out.
Update, 9:30am: I looked up the term "well differentiated," which the vet used to describe the condition, and it means the cells are spread out and have not coalesced into a tumor. There are none in the blood stream either, all of which makes them easier to kill, so that's good news.