I'm pretty down and out today. I had a good week, but once again the weekend brought more bad news, and I just don't feel like doing anything.
Rico (my two year old hamster) has had a growth on his chest for the last few weeks. I've been keeping an eye on it, but it's grown by about 1/3 in the last few days, so I finally decided to get him checked on.
I honestly, truly thought it was an abscess that needed draining because of how fast it grew. Here's the best picture I could get...and keep in mind that 2 1/2 weeks ago he was totally normal and his chest was flat:
|That purplish thing extending into his food dish? That's what I'm talking about.|
I just feel so crappy about this. I asked for an estimate to drain and biopsy everything, but in the car on the way home I had a flashback to when I was eight. I got this awesome hamster when I was six. His name was Winny, and he was totally my bud. Just after he turned two he got this large saddlebag looking lumps on his sides, and we took him to the vet who informed us that he had tumors and probably didn't have much longer to go.
I cried and cried and cried, and after talking with my mom, at the ripe old age of eight, I realized that I could not keep Winny alive simply because I wanted him to be.
Well...I thought of Winny during the ride home today and the same thought planted itself in my irrationally whirring mind, putting a dead stop to the idea of spending nearly $200 to keep my old little dude alive for (maybe) a few extra weeks.
Rico doesn't need to have some painful, drawn out death just because I can't bear to let him go. I hate myself for knowing that, and for knowing what's coming on Monday.
I guess there's not much I can do though.