I lost my boy on May 15, 2001. I kept this diary during his illness in whatever little spare time I had. Mostly, it was a place to vent my feelings and my emotions, but now I'm so glad I have it all written down so I can share it and perhaps help someone else come to terms with their loss. I don't ever want to forget Gem or the effect he would have on my life. So many of my priorities have changed, for the better I think. I have made some new friends through all of it too. I hope that Gem is smiling down on me.
In mid March of 2001, I detected a mass on Gem's neck as he jumped up onto the bed to greet me. I took him to the vet within days to have fluid extracted from the mass. The resulting cytology report was "inconclusive", I was terrified and distraught.
March 25, 2001. On Friday, my sweet angel had a presumably cancerous tumor removed from his neck. I am devastated, and don't know how we will get through this. This coming Friday, we will return for a follow-up visit and discuss possible treatment. The idea of chemo terrifies me. He is my family, my son, I won't let him go without a fight. I am seeking possible alternative treatment, and I am spending much of the weekend on the internet, when I am not busy cuddling with my "baby". Treatment is a struggle because he doesn't like to be handled and giving him his antibiotics is a nightmare in itself and sends him hiding under the bed for a few hours. I've not lost hope, maybe the news will be good, maybe it's not cancer after all.
I have spent the day looking at feline cancer related websites. I've joined a wonderful Yahoo egroup for support to read their stories of successes and failures, and to gain some valuable knowledge about our situation. It's so hard to look at my baby all shaven and with that drainage tube hanging out from his chest. He's dripping blood all over the house. It occurred to me that it's a good thing I have dark brown carpeting. Poor thing must be miserable. He "brothers" and "sister" reject him. I suppose he smells different and looks different. He desperately seeks comfort from them. He eats so little, I'm getting very worried. He won't let me give him the antibiotics orally, so I've tried to mix it in baby food, but now he won't eat that either.
March 26, 2001 - It's Monday, I hate that I have to go to work today. I don't want to leave my baby here alone. He doesn't eat anything. I've offered anything and everything I can think of that he might possibly be interested in. Well, my other kitties will get even fatter as they reap the benefits of whatever Gem won't eat.
Home from work now, Gem is going downhill. I wonder if he'll make it to his follow-up appointment this Friday.
March 29, 2001 - It's a good thing I work in animal rescue. I have begun taking Gem to work with me. I was afraid that the trip back and forth in the carrier would be too much for him, but he's looking a little bit better. At least I can put him in a cage there and care for him during the day now. With the help of the shelter manager to help me restrain him, we are able to hook him up to a fluid bag and inject him with antibiotics. I can offer him food several times a day. I've tried everything. He did eat a little people tuna yesterday. Well, we will see what happens at our appointment tomorrow. My heart aches for my little "son". I have to fight this thing through. God, please let us have just a couple more good years, or at least some time to prepare. Don't take him yet...please.
At work tonight, I tried to feed Gem tuna, but although he wanted to eat, it appeared he couldn't. I can tell it hurts him to eat. It seems he's eating less and less, and like it's more painful than yesterday. I left work and went to the store and purchased a smorgasbord of food for him. He still didn't eat. I called the doctor's office, and he said that it's no wonder that he can't eat because his throat was scraped to remove the cancer during surgery. I felt a little better for a moment, but then I mentioned that he had eaten a bit the first couple of days but it seemed like now it was less and less. Then the doctor said some words that will haunt me for the rest of my life. He said "Oh, then that's not a good sign, it could mean the cancer's come raging back." My heart fell to the floor. We ended the conversation saying that we would speak at our appointment tomorrow. I tried to continue working, but I couldn't even think straight. His words rang in my ear. I loaded Gem in the car and drove to the doctors office, hoping he'd see me, as it was after hours at the vet hospital. After examining him, he said he couldn't see any "inherent problem". He did feel his throat externally as well as look inside. He explained then that the cancer had been spread all throughout the area and he had scraped for four hours to get as much as he could. We won't know anything more until the biopsy results to determine the type of cancer and how aggressive it is. I'm not sure I understood him correctly. Everything is such a blur. I need my wits about me right now, but I'm in such distress, I can't function. I'm hoping that his words about not seeing any inherent problem meant that the cancer had not come raging back. I just don't know.....I'm sick with despair, and my heart aches. I'm home now, and every once in a while I hear Gem cry out in pain from his throat hurting him. Otherwise, he acts normally as far as going in all his favorite locations and walking around the apartment and hanging out with his kitty "brothers".
Gem and I have become even closer this week. I've taken him back and forth to work with me. He's ridden in the car for an hour long commute in both directions, chatting with me the whole way. We haven't been away from each other at all in a week. Please dear God don't take him from me. If I could please just have a little more time. I just need some time to adjust. I guess I thought that we would face this battle and get maybe a couple more good years after some chemotherapy. He's lost so much weight. He went in for surgery at 9 lbs. Last night he was only 7 lbs., less than a week later. I can feel all his bones.
March 30, 2001 - Got the pathology report today. Squamous cell carcinoma with a very infiltrative growth pattern. Moderately aggressive and the tumor appears to have invaded lymphoid tissue. It's real, I can't deny it now. We're seeing an oncologist right away.
April 1, 2001 - Saturday and Sunday are usually my days off where I like to just rest and be on the computer and spend quality time with my kitties. This weekend I'm taking Gem to my work where I can give him sub-q fluids and force feed. Can't do it at home, it's too hard without the confines of a cage to hold him. Poor baby must be getting tired of the hour long commute on both ends. He's becoming so much a part of my life more and more, together 24/7. Hurt my back today taking my bed off it's frame. I don't want him going under there anymore, it's too hard to fish him out. And besides, I don't want him to alienate himself from the rest of his family.
I folded a large comforter, topped it with a pillow, and placed in on the passenger seat of the car. I put his carrier on top of this and ran the seatbelt through the handle to secure it. He can see out now as we drive. He seems to like it and talks and looks around the whole way. He seems to enjoy it when I take Ventura Blvd to and from work instead of the freeway.
April 2, 2001 - I have made an appointment with an oncologist for this Thursday. I am anxiously awaiting and I feel hopeful that she will help us. I've begun the work week feeling tired and I missed my usual weekend of rest without having the long commute to work. Gem has been eating less and less this week, pretty much nothing the last two days, thank God we have our appointment on Thursday.
April 5, 2001 - Today was our big day. I went in there very hopeful and smiling, but I left the office shortly after, in tears. I am stunned with disbelief that the oncologist left me with no hope, no course of treatment, mot even any medication. Apparently, the cancer has spread (most likely as a result of the surgery) and he now has developed tumors on his tongue and will not be able to eat anymore. The doctor said that I should find comfort in the fact that I have shown him several years of happiness and love. She did not mention the words "euthanasia" directly, but it's what she meant. She did not even set up another appointment, I cried hysterically all the way to work and all evening I just looked at him. I despise this hideous thing, this disease, this cancer that is ravaging my sweet Gem and our peaceful life.
April 6, 2001 - Tonight, after office hours, I left work with Gem and went to see my regular vet. I told him about my visit with the oncologist and what she had said. He asked me why I had gone to see her. I told him the ridiculous truth, that I thought she would write me a prescription, set up the best course of action, and make an appointment for our first treatment. I had hoped for encouraging words like "remission" and "normal life" or "several more years". Of course, I got none of that from her. My regular vet was far more encouraging and honest. I asked him, "How long do we have"? His answer was honest, and the words still haunt me. "Unfortunately, not long because if a cat's mouth is in pain, it won't eat." However, he did offer some course of treatment. He told me I had two things to think about. A stomach tube, and once he gains his strength he told me that there was a type of chemo that specifically kills squamous cells. It is not used very often or talked about much because it causes pulmonary edema and death in about one out of five cats. I inquired about the cost of the treatment, only thing is.....I don't have any money left.....what little savings I had went to his surgery.
April 14th, 2001 - It's been a good weekend. Gem is used to the sub-q fluids and other treatments now, so I'm able to treat him pretty easily at home. I spent the entire time just relaxing for a change, in my bed watching movies. Gem lay right next to me the whole time and I would just keep syringing food into him throughout the day. Today, he actually went down the stairs and was looking out the glass door at the bottom. I was so pleased to see him do that, maybe miracles do happen.
April 21, 2001 - Well, another week has passed since I last updated the diary. Not much has changed. Gem is still hanging in there, but I don't see any improvement in his condition. His lovely voice gets weaker. I believe we are just waiting now for the suffering to end, and his inevitable crossing over to the Rainbow Bridge. I'm tired and I'm worn out, it seems like an eternity has passed in the last month. My life has been taken over by this hideous and merciless disease. I've lost weight from the stress of it all and from being so worn out. I have no parking space for my car and I have to park on the streets of Hollywood. Late at night I often have to park several blocks away and tote Gem's carrier and his supplies with me. How long can I go on doing this?
I called a homeopathic vet this morning, reaching for that last straw I suppose. I was told that cancer in the mouth is the toughest to deal with and wasn't given anything to hope for. We continue our routine for now which consists of the following. Sub-Q fluids, twice daily. Syringe feedings ongoing throughout the day, antibiotics twice daily, Essiac tea twice daily, a special "miracle" water syringed 5 times a day, and the list goes on and on with this or that vitamin or supplement crushed into the food that is syringed into his mouth. The majority of the food is spit out, and as a result, he hasn't gained any weight back. He's still alert and aware, but that's about all that remains of his former self. I go through day to day in a state of frustration and despair, I don't know what to do anymore, or how to cope. Every night when I get home from work I bathe him and blow him dry on the bed. I touch every part of his body and I can feel all his bones sticking out. It's been a long time since he was able to groom himself because of the tumors on his tongue. I think he appreciates the daily baths. Such a bond we have formed. I know him so well, I can anticipate his every need. What a long ways he's come, from the semi-feral he was when I brought him home three years ago.
I often stop on the way home from work at the 24-hour grocery store. I park right up front and Gem watches me from the car as I enter the store. I can see his little mouth opening as he's talking. When I return, he's still standing in the carrier watching for me. I can't help but smile when I see him looking for me as I exit the store. He's so different, so dependent on me now.
May 2, 2001 - We borrowed money to go see another vet in Redondo Beach, Ca., about a 50-minute drive from my house, in the opposite direction of my work. I had to make the appointment for very early so I could still be at work as close to 1:00 pm as possible. My normal work hours are approximately 4:00 pm until midnight, but with so much to do to care for my boy, the hours at work have become 1:00 pm until about 2:00 am the next morning. I have so much more care when I get home that I don't often get to bed until 4:00 or 5:00 am. I know I'm getting very little sleep......I'm so very tired.
How did the appointment go? Well....I'm not really sure. I really liked this doctor, she knows what she's doing, but I don't like what she had to say. I don't want to hear the truth. I won't let my boy die. Perhaps if I had gone to her much sooner, the outcome could have been different?? Maybe not, because she did say that the course of this cancer was 52 days. As though nothing I had done, or not done would have made any difference? Humph....I don't understand that. I thought that if I dedicated all of my time, my life, to his care, that it made sense that he would live. How can he die if I take such good care of him? She actually counted out the 52 days from the date of the cytology report, and made our next appointment based on that. The date for death, for euthanasia, was set for May 17th. We only had 15 more days together. I cried uncontrollably in the office, my best friend Jen went with me to this appointment and I was so grateful that she was there with us. The doctor spent so much time with us, about an hour I think. She was so caring, and her main concern was for Gem and his comfort. From our conversation she realized that I had a serious problem with euthanasia. She asked me why. She told me that Gem didn't want to be in this sick body anymore, that a new healthy kitten body was waiting for him at the Rainbow Bridge. I disagreed with her. I felt that he loved his life, his family, his home....that he wanted to stay. She actually gave me a price list of decorative urns for his cremains. Meanwhile, at work at the shelter, my boss was coming up with alternative cancer treatments. Miracle treatments I suppose, things like Cansema, a treatment from the Bahamas, and some holy water from Texas. So we were waiting for these things to do their magic. There was no reason to give up on him, I still secretly thought he'd be OK. The doctor also told me that Gem would not die peacefully either, that the end would be horrible if I did not keep the date for euthanasia. He would go on for a bit longer she said, but he would starve to death because he would no longer eat anything as the tumors on his tongue would grow, or he would "bleed out" meaning the tumors would bleed, and he would swallow the blood and bleed to death without me even knowing it. I don't believe that....I would know......he's my boy. I watch over him constantly. I sit in a chair in front of his cage most of the day and just stare at him, or trace my thumb over the features on his face. I don't ever want to forget that precious face, those beautiful almond eyes, golden colored, with natural eyeliner, and his cute little nose, so delicate and small.......so innocent and so totally dependent on me now.
The doctor told me to continue the treatments I was already administering. This included the sub-q fluids, injections of Dexazone (Dexamethazone a cortico-steriod), and she also prescribed a pain-killer (Torbutrol). She fashioned a special syringe, one that would be more comfortable for his mouth, as the syringe was his only means of ingesting food.
When I arrived at work and told my boss about the visit, she said the doctor was crazy, she said "There's no way that cat is going to die in two weeks." I feel better now.
May 9, 2001 - Each night when I get home from work and open the door to the carrier, I can see that Gem has less and less strength. He comes out very slowly now from the carrier. He can barely walk. That voice I loved so much is silent now. Oddly enough, I'm not even sure when he lost it.
May 10, 2001 - Only one day later and Gem can no longer walk at all. He didn't even make an attempt to get out of the carrier. I carried him to the litter box and supported his body while he relieved himself. I placed him next to me on my bed, hydrated him, gave him his meds, the essiac tea, the holy water, the cansema etc., then I prepared and warmed his meal. Somehow I fell asleep sitting up. When I awoke, the jar of baby food was on the bed with the syringe sitting in it. I had never even fed him. For the first time, he had wet the bed during the night. Someone from my Yahoo group had sent me a list of the signs that are supposed to indicate when the time is right for euthanasia, bedwetting was one of them. He showed several of the signs now. Why aren't the so called miracle cancer cures working?
May 11, 2001 - It's morning, I just left my bedroom where I had been syringing some food into the comparatively lifeless body that was once my boy Gem. Although I mostly still refer to him as "Gem", the helpless creature on the bed is not Gem. I have taken to calling him by a different name lately. For some reason, the name "Gootch" comes to mind. He reminds of a bird...the way he opens his mouth when he sees the syringe coming. His neck is shaven and scrawny like a bird too...like a little "Gootch". I don't even know who that is in there, but I can see that my boy left me the day he went into surgery, and has never returned. Time closes in on us quickly now, and I prepare myself for what has to be done. Sometimes I even resent that creature that is "Gootch". Where is "Gem"? God please let him to come back to me if only for a little while. Why can't somebody just fix him. Isn't that what a doctor is supposed to do? The date for euthanasia, May 17th looms closer and closer.
The doctor called me at work today. She didn't mention our date for May 17th. She inquired about Gem, and I lied. I told her that he was doing pretty well. She asked me if he was still able to get to the litterbox OK. Again I lied. How could she know so much? What did she have a video camera set up at my house or something? It was creepy how much she knew. She was silent for a moment, she didn't believe me......then she said that she guessed that the Dexamethazone was probably not doing it's job very well anymore. She was right. I didn't tell her that I had more than doubled the dosage over the last couple of days. She told me that it was probably a good idea to stop the cortizone injections and try Peroxicam (generic for Feldine). I was elated then because I'd read about this drug in an online feline cancer group. It was a human arthritis drug, an anti-inflammatory, that had been successful in some cases of shrinking feline tumors. I wondered why she hadn't given it to me sooner.
May 12, 2001 - Saturday morning, I picked up our prescription for the Feldine. I've just administered it. Maybe this is it, the turning point. Maybe the tumor will just go away. I'm feeling very hopeful and excited. If I could only shrink the tumors until the Cansema and the holy water have time to work........maybe we still have a chance.
May 13, 2001 - It's Sunday night. There's been no improvement. The whole weekend I spent with my fur family. Gem has been all weekend on the couch in his little donut shaped leopard bed, covered with a blanket. With only his head visible, it just looks like he's sleeping, like normal, like he always did. You can't tell how sick he is, or see the devastation to his little body, which is nothing but skin and bones now. We've watched TV all weekend, the rest of the fur kids surround the couch with us. I syringe food into him constantly. I can tell when he wants to use the litterbox, I know him so well now, and I carry him to the other room and support his body in the box. It amazes me when I think about how feral he once was, how he didn't like to be touched. Now he depends on me for everything. I've noticed he hasn't closed his eyes in days. I wonder why? I keep trying to close them for him, but they won't stay shut. He looks around staring, like he's looking at something invisible to the rest of us, or at least to me. What is he looking at?
Tuesday, May 15th, 2001 - At 1:30 am we lost our battle. I cannot update this now through my tears, but will try in the near future in the hopes that Gem may help someone else get through their own pain. I hope to include some helpful links, something that will give something in return, on Gem's behalf.
August 21, 2001 - Well, it's been just over three months since the senseless death of my beloved boy. It still hurts so very much, the pain doesn't go away, it just gets easier to manage. I don't guess it will ever go away. I have read the diary above for the first time since his passing. It's still so vivid in my mind, yet so much has changed. The whole atmosphere of our home is so different now. I've added members to my fur family. They are not a replacement for Gem, no one could ever replace him, but the addition of new members to our family change things around here. I could not face our home with a huge hole in it where Gem had once held a place so special. I needed things to be different around here. Not necessarily better......or worse......just different.
I'm taking a step back in time now to relive our last day. I don't think I'll ever forget, but I want to have it down in print anyway.
Monday, May 14, 2001 - It was Monday morning. The weekend had been peaceful and pleasant. I suppose I knew it would be our last one together. On Sunday night I stayed up until 4:30 in the morning. I didn't want the weekend to end. Weekends had become so special to us, a time when we could all be together, and I didn't have to carry Gem back and forth to work with me, where he would spend his day in a cage, reminiscent of his old days at the shelter from which he came.
He was completely immobile by now. When I brought him to work, I didn't even put him in the cage that day. I brought his donut-shaped bed with us, and I placed him on the counter in my room instead. After all, he couldn't move anyway. He had eaten though that morning. He accepted his food by syringe as always, but once I got to work, he wouldn't eat anymore. I tried everything. When my boss arrived I asked her to please do something. He was going to die. We injected him with Depo-Medrol, a steroid. It didn't work, nothing worked anymore. I tried all day to patch him up in one way or another. Cortisone, steroids, dextrose....anything and everything I had access to. If I could just have one more day even. He continued to go downhill that whole day at a rapid speed. I realized, perhaps for the first time, that it was to be over soon.
Tuesday, May 15, 2001
I left work with Gem about 2:00 am, he was doing really badly by then, his breathing very labored in the last few hours. It was early Tuesday morning now, and my rent was due that day. I had no money left, I'd spent it all on Gem's treatments, and surgery, and vet visits. My boss paid me earlier that day but I still had to find an all-night check cashing place in Hollywood where we lived so I could drop my rent off in the Landlord's mail slot. By the time I left, Gem was still having trouble breathing. I noticed he was really out of it when I placed him in the carrier. He wasn't even aware of his surroundings I don't think. It's shocking how quickly he went downhill in that one day. I spoke to him all the way home, begging him to hold on for me, but I had an idea that he might have left me already sometime during the drive.
I didn't stop at the check cashing place as I had planned. I went home first. I was pretty sure he was already gone. I brought the carrier straight into my bedroom and opened it up on the bed. I pulled him gently out of the carrier. He was gone. I cried only for a moment, then placed him back into the carrier and brought him into the living room. I covered him up with a blanket, leaving his face exposed, and left to go take care of my business. I had to pay my rent now. I didn't cry anymore, I had to get this done. It was like a dream, a nightmare. I didn't feel as though I was really doing this, it was more like watching myself in a movie, or in a dream. I was numb. I drove to the all-night check cashing place, about a mile away, purchased my money order, filled it out and dropped it off. I was back home about 3:15 am. I checked the carrier again, maybe I'd been wrong. Maybe he was OK, and I needed to try to feed him. He was cold, not stiff, but just cold. I sat down at the computer then, with his body in the carrier at my side. I wrote to my Yahoo cancer support group. I still didn't cry, I believe that I must have been in shock. I posted my feelings to the group. I stayed up all night on the computer, visiting all kinds of bereavement chat rooms and such.
I spent the remainder of the morning reading the various condolence messages that came in from my Yahoo support group. Later in the morning I got a call from a group member who had given me a great deal of support during the crisis. She lived fairly close and had even come to visit me and Gem during the illness. She asked what my plans were for Gem's remains. I didn't know....I hadn't thought it would really happen. She very graciously offered to arrange for his cremation at a local pet cemetery, the same place she had had her beloved kitty cremated. I was so relieved by her generous offer. I couldn't deal with everything alone.
I left for work early that day, I hadn't been to sleep yet. I hooked Gem up in his carrier on the front seat as always, with the seatbelt and all. I would be our last trip in the car together. My work was on the way to the pet cemetery, so I stopped at the shelter first. I lay his body on the counter in my room at work. I examined him then. I looked over every inch of his body. When I looked in his mouth, I was really surprised at just how small those tumors really were now that the inflammation was gone. I couldn't help but wonder why could they not have shrunken the inflammation. I was sure that he could have eaten if they had. The tumors themselves were so small. He looked so peaceful. I was relieved to see that he showed no signs of having suffered in death. The doctor had been wrong about this. Although he was so cold, he still wasn't stiff. I held him close to me and cried for a long time. I kissed him over and over, every inch of him. Finally, I shaved some fur from his body so I could have it always. His fur was so soft, softer than any of my other cats, I had always loved touching it.
I arrived at the cemetery and sat down in the waiting room. I was hysterical by this time. I hated that I had to do this alone, but thankfully all the arrangements had been made already by my friend MJ. A woman came to take the carrier from my arms. I wasn't ready and I hated that woman just then. I think she understood and she left us alone for a few more minutes. When she returned, I knew I had to hand him over. She called him a "she", and I hated her for that too. It was perhaps the hardest thing I'd ever had to do. Never again would I be able to touch him, hold him, or kiss him. I'll never forget how I felt just then. It was so final......he was really gone from my life.....forever.
Wednesday, May 16, 2001 - I picked up the all that was left of my beloved boy today. Everything he had been to me, my beautiful boy that I loved so much. My boy that had so loved and appreciated his home and family......was just dust in a can now. It was such a shock, I can't even begin to tell you how I felt holding that can with his name on the label. I had gone there on my way to work and my friend met me there at the cemetery. I was so grateful for her presence. I think I would have just lost my mind, I was so close to going over the edge. When I got to work a little bit later my co workers tried to comfort me, they told me that it wasn't really Gem in that can.....that he was in my heart. I wondered then, if that were so, then why did I have him cremated if he wasn't in the can? Of course he was in there. They burned him and put him in the can. I kept the can in the cage where I had cared for him every day for the last two months along with my favorite photo, and some roses. I carried the can to work with me for the remainder of the week, and kept in at my bedside when I was home. I still rode with his carrier in the car, although I had moved it to the backseat now. For a very long time whenever I drove the car, I would instinctively reach out to steady the carrier every time I hit the brakes, or turned the corner. It was finally over, and I needed to get some normalcy back to my life. It had never occurred to me just how exhausted I was, and I think I slept a lot over the next few days. It was so strange that I didn't have my boy to care for, my life would be so empty now. It was strange not to carry him back and forth to work with me. It occurred to me just how difficult life had been, but I would have gone on forever if it would have kept him with me.
The Aftermath
August 22, 2001 - Back to the present. It's been a difficult two days working on this diary and reliving all that we went through, but I think it gave me some closure that perhaps I needed, although I didn't realize it before. I'm glad I didn't do it right away, I think I remember it more vividly now than then.
So much has changed. It seems like a lifetime ago that my family was relaxed, happy and peaceful. There's a little bit of stress with the new family members, just a little, but it's there nonetheless. My entire fur family loved Gem. He was that kind of guy, never caused trouble, never aggressive with anyone. He was laid back and just happy to have found a home and ones who loved him.
I have a little shelf in my room that's dedicated to him. There is his can of cremains of course, atop which sits a little wooden kitty angel with the same coloring as my boy. There are angel statues, and framed poems and a little scroll shaped resin box inscribed with the words forget-me-not, along with other keepsakes. I buy new things often for the shelf which will someday soon be an entire curio cabinet at the rate I'm going. I love to buy things for him and often find myself saying. "Oh, I have to buy this for Gem." It makes me feel good, like he's not really gone.
There are so many questions I ask myself. What else could I have done? If I had discovered the mass sooner could something more have been done? Should I not have had the surgery that seemed to just spread the cancer? Should I have seen a holistic vet right away and tried alternative treatment? Should I have let him go sooner? So many questions...so few answers. I may never come to terms with the decisions I made, but my boy is in heaven now and I'm a better person for having known and loved him. May god bless you and keep you safe in the arms of angels. Mommy loves you and always will.
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