Tomasina

[RufusACanal]

Tomasina

Seventeen years ago on the streets of a large downtown Midwestern city, I was found by police officers in a state of alcoholic withdrawal. Thinking back to that time, I remember little, in fact most of the recollection is from others who as the months rolled on would fill in the missing events for me. This was not a new adventure; I had been down this road before. I found myself in a State Mental Hospital when I came to, heavily sedated and happily restrained. I was comfortable and it appeared I was safe and well cared for. Looking around the room, I noticed the old tile floor of my room was amazingly clean and polished to a high luster leaving me with the impression that maybe I had dodged the bullet again, but the putrid shade of green that covering the walls put an end to that thinking quickly. I lingered on that bed in those restraints and waited; I was accustomed to waiting. My Alcoholism had taken me places over the years and it was only matter of time before I would realize where I really was and what was happening. I learned to be patient.
Like many of those of years, the memories today, return in a rush of disconnected images. I had again fallen into the downward spiral and the booze had once again told me the lie I knew best. The police had found me while I was unconscious and in the midst of seizure I was to later learn. I was transported to the local indigent hospital and stabilized. Somehow, something greater than I made decisions to move me to that State Hospital where I was to find a way back to life for a time.

I was to spend six months on a ward in that hospital. Ronald Reagan, in one of his most masterful moves as President had cut off funding to states for mental health in the 1980’s. Most hospitals for the mentally ill were closed during the following years and those that survived restructured their services to stay open, yet they became little more than holding pens to stave off the increasing number of mentally ill on the streets of America. The ward I was on did not cater to any specific mental illness; we were all in it together, one big happy family. One day, months into my stay, as I shuffled into the dayroom a friendly worker took me by the arm to meet my first visitor. This person informed me that research funds had become available for folks with dually diagnosed mental illnesses and I was the perfect candidate for this once in a life time opportunity. It was the fine mix of severe clinical depression coupled with suicidal tendencies and late stage Alcoholism which would garner me a chance at living. You have to realize, I had been homeless when the cops scooped me up into the loving arms of this hospital months prior; I had lost everything again during the spree and there was no loving soul to call and no home to go to, so any offer of stability was indeed worth my undivided attention. I was to go to the first dual diagnosed halfway house in this big city where every effort would be made to help me start a new life.

Let me get to the meat of this writing. Please forgive me, I wander still. I spent a few months at this halfway house before I was ready for independent living and a return to college. Nine months after my encounter with the police that night, I was a student in a large university and living alone in my own apartment. I went to meetings, took my meds and went to classes. I had not changed for the better. I was solely focused on a return to the bright lights of the night clubs and all they offered; I did not want a truly new life and the responsibilities it demanded. I wanted to do things my way.

My mental health case worker would make monthly visits to my apartment to see how I was progressing in this independent living arrangement. It was either the second or third month in the apartment when I heard the door bell ring one morning and there stood my worker with a ball of fur in her arms. I do not remember the workers name, but I remember seeing Tomasina for the first time. Tomasina, the worker said, had belonged to a family she had known and was only a year old. She needed a home and of course she thought of me. This beautiful calico female cat was something special. I had never had a pet of my own since leaving home at thirteen, but I decided that yes I would take her and care for her. Tomasina gave me a chance to love something besides myself. So full of life and joy, this creature loved me in spite of all the madness that was Ron. She was my girl and I loved her so. Of course I didn’t love enough to not drink. Tomasina was the only light in my life; a life I was systematically destroying.

I returned to drinking soon after that, though I was to keep that apartment for three years and Tomasina stayed with me through all of the self imposed trials that beset us. This is a story in itself; those frantic years in the apartment. In 1995, relations with my parents had almost departed completely again. Before I was told never to call or visit my folks, I concocted a story where I had asked my Dad to take Tomasina and provide me monies because I had a job offer of mythical proportions in Florida and I could not take her. Of course this was all another lie, I was at my wits end and my story was a con to get money out of Dad another time so I could finance my geographical cure. Dad acquiesced and took Tomasina and I left the Midwestern town for Florida.

From 1995 through 1999, I was to go through more adventures of drunkenness and insanity as were those folks unlucky enough to meet me. Dad passed away in 1999. Tomasina was with my Mom and I rarely thought of her, being as I was always so consumed with self. I met my most beautiful life partner, my Wife in 2001 and with that meeting my life was finally to find a purpose. I had my last binge ending on April 28, 2003. My Mom became sick on Christmas of 2006 and I brought Tomasina to our home that same month. Mom passed away July of 2007.

Over the last fourteen months, my Wife and I have loved Tomasina with all of our hearts. We have another cat, Bozito, a male tabby that I found in a pet store in 2003 who came from a family that emigrated from Bosnia. Tomasina and Bozito weren’t the best of friends; Tomasina being a cranky old lady and Bozito a young male wanting to play the amorous games of youth. We would never have children as my Wife and I were past the age and our cats are our loves.

Tomasina became sick a little over two weeks ago and frankly I thought it was nothing but a cold. Both cats needed their annual shots and checkups so we took them to the Vet. The news was not great, both cats had a slight infection, but Tomasina’s kidneys were failing. I must admit it did not concern me greatly. The Vet had given us medications and I thought she would bounce right back and be good as new. Yes, she was older, hell so am I and we both had a lot of miles on us, but I have had this magically thinking that living things do not pass away; my parents, my friends and now Tomasina. This thinking is so bizarre because I deal with death on a daily basis. My career is in the death care industry which I have somehow maintained since 1995.

Toma, as my Wife so loving calls her had a renewal of spirit and health for several days with the medication. Man, she was fast again, trying to eat everything in sight. Hope had returned and the warning bells were quieted; Tomasina would be fine. This was not to be the case. Last Saturday, I noticed she couldn’t hit the litter box and her back legs were shaky. Something deep inside told me this was the end, but I did not want to believe it. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday came and went and she was becoming slower to react. It was time to go back to the Vet and I scheduled the appointment for yesterday afternoon.

You see, back in July 2007, visiting my Mom for what was to be the last time alive, I promised her I would not put Tomasina to sleep. Mom was suffering from kidney failure as well and her mind was not complete from day to day. Why Mom thought I would, I do not know, but I promised. I love Tomasina and doing harm to any animal was beyond even my incompetence as a human being. I had a home now to care for Tomasina and it was not only my obligation as a man, but as the son of my Mother and most importantly as the parent of this most beautiful creature.

I realized on Thursday that I would have to make a decision concerning Tomasina. I would have to consider whether her quality of life was worth maintaining. I had to consider killing my cat. I have been a lot of things that are not very pleasant in this life, but I had never taken the life of a living creature by choice. Yesterday morning, I picked my girl up and we sat on the back porch together for the longest time. I held her in my arms and gazed into her eyes and spoke as softly as I could. Toma could not work her back legs well, so I brought out a litter box with water and dry food for her to the porch as I had to go to work. We had an appointment with the Vet at 200 PM yesterday, but I wanted Tomasina comfortable until my Wife got home at noon. You have to understand, Tomasina has the largest eyes of any cat I have ever seen and her soul is right there for all to see.
I was a few minutes late getting to the Vet, but my Wife was there already and Toma with her. When I came in the door, my Wife told me the Vet had already seen Toma and it was not good. There were people in the waiting room with us, making noise and talking loudly. I wanted to lash out at them; keep quiet my girl is sick. The walls of that Vet’s office closed in and I took Toma from my Wife and just sat to look into her eyes; eyes I could never lie to, eyes that saw all of me for what I was and loved me anyway. I spoke to hear alone as she watched and listened to my every word. I knew it was time to say goodbye, but my God I did not want to. The Vet came back out and went to the exam room together, my Wife, the Vet and Toma in my arms. I found that for the very first time in my life I could not speak I could only look into Tomas’s most trusting eyes and cry. I turned to my Wife and found a small voice that said yes, it is time. The Vet was so loving and said I could hold my girl but I had to sign a paper, some permission to end her life. I felt so confused; who was I doing this for, Tomasina, my Wife or myself. Can’t we just take her home and hope that she will improve? I signed the paper and the Vet shaved a small place on Tomasina’s right leg. I had to give over Toma to the assistant to hold while the Vet gave her the shot that would take away all. I watched the pink fluid go into my girl and immediately took her from the assistant. Her big beautiful eyes went away and she was gone.

In the rain yesterday, my Wife and I buried our girl in the backyard of our home and we hurt so badly together. Tomasina is resting in a wonderfully embroidered pillowcase that my Wife brought from Venezuela. I question everything again and I miss my most beautiful girl so much. With Tomasina now are my folks, they are together on their journey and I am really trying to believe that it was the right thing.

This morning as I write this, I am writing for all of us, I am writing for my family. This is life on life’s terms. This is what I ran from for so many years, yet this is what I accept in this new life. The running is now at an end. You see, Tomasina lived and died with only love, for me and my family. What better example is there for this man?

I am grateful that there is a family that I can call my own today. I am grateful for my Wife beyond words. I am grateful that God has allowed me to grow, prosper and function with my fellows. I miss my girl this morning, yet I continue to hear the message of her complete and unfettered love even now. Please, I ask of you not to respond; I just needed to talk to you all and in the writing I am finding peace. Peace for all that is passed and all that will come. You, who have loved me as well as my family. My name is Ron A and I am grateful Alcoholic.