A bittersweet story; may be inspiring for some
I consider this story a success, although I haven't fully recovered from emet. It's a little out-of-the-box in terms of relating this story to emetophobia, but it means a great deal to me and I consider my successes to be a "giant leap forward" instead of a mere step. A bit of a warning though, the way I'm going to explain this experience might be too graphic for some. I don't censor my words because I try not to avoid using them (I'm getting better at it!).
Anyway, last year around October, my beloved pet cat was starting to get ill. She was fairly old, and I had her since I was 12 years old (I'm now 23). She was always the type to cough up hairballs on occasion, and I couldn't even bring myself to look at them let alone pick them up. My mom always had to clean up after her and she often got frustrated with me, thinking I was either lazy or I didn't care (but I really did). But last fall, I simply had no choice. Her health was getting progressively worse, and instead of hairballs, she would start vomiting bile. It was gruesome and it got to the point where we had multiple emergency vet visits. I was horrified, but I wanted so badly to help her. I don't know what I was scared of more: her bodily functions or losing her due to her declining health.
From one vet appointment to another (and hundreds of dollars spent), I had no choice but to keep taking care of her, to the best of my ability. Eventually, she began to vomit about 7 times a day and was getting weaker and weaker. We found out that she was dying of stomach cancer. Imagine that... I know many emets understand how absolutely dreadful that is, even if we aren't the ones suffering from that illness. It's uncanny that a person suffering with emet would be living in a household with an animal that has stomach cancer and constant GI tract irritation. I had no choice but to clean up after her when no one was around to help because it was so often. I cringed and gagged and even cried when I first started cleaning up after her, then only after 2 or 3 more times, I was able to do it without a problem. She would have a routine accident on the floor and immediately I'd go over to her side to comfort her and clean up after her. The accomplishment that I found in all this was my realization that I cared more for her life than for my own petty fears. I cried so much during those days because I knew how much pain she was going through (and every day was such an alarming reminder of how bad my emetophobia really was), but she was a lot stronger and resilient than I gave her credit for. I was the one panicking, not her. She never gave up on living life as a cat. When her meds were managing the symptoms, she wanted to eat. When she saw birds outside, she wanted me to lift her up so she could look out the window and gaze at the world. She loved to love others, and her sickness never got in the way of that. My mom and I joked that there was something almost human about her, and she often made me wish that I could also live life without emet and move on without having to worry day-to-day about whether I'll be sick or not. She was sick all the time but was never damp in spirits, as funny as it sounds.
I know that many people have huge attachments to their pets, and it was no exception for me. Knowing that her life was coming to an end was unbearably heartbreaking for me. She was the most loving cat I ever owned. When I left home during the Christmas holidays, my boyfriend was taking care of her. He called me one morning shortly after and said "Kate, she's dying. I have to put her down." After it was all done, he called me in tears, telling me it was finally over. We cried together on the phone because my wonderful pet for over a decade was put to sleep. That night, I remembered how much pain she went through, but in a silly kind of way, she taught me the meaning of loving unconditionally. Even though she had arthritis, was sick with stomach cancer, and was very frail/weak, she still had the guts to hold herself up on the couch cushions with her hind legs so I could pick her up and hold her on my lap. I remembered thinking to myself at one point, "I don't even care anymore if she has an accident on me, because our time together won't be for very long and I need to give her all the love I got." I wasn't scared to hug her, hold her, or play with her. It was the best decision I ever made. Even on days where she was "leaky" and sniffly and looked like she was going to be sick, I would wrap her up in a towel and cradle her like a baby. There was finally a God-given moment, I guess one could say, where emet didn't matter compared to the amount of joy and love I had from my cherished pet.
To this day, I'm now able to clean up after my mom's dog and my newer cat when they throw up or have diarrhea. I still have an OCD tick where I have to disinfect every square inch when I clean (and then some), but at least I know I can actually do it instead of hide in a corner because I'm too afraid of germs and catching something awful. There are some trials along the way but I know for certain I've overcome a road block that kept me in the dark for countless years. I still can't stand the sight, sound, or even presence of people vomiting, but at least I have started to face situations with animals head on.
Hope this can be of help for some, as abstract as it all is! I know it's not all completely hopeless now.
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Originally Posted by Valerie13Ann
