Tag Archives: puppy

Prognosis Good, Surgery Curative

Cameron, the 10 year old lab mix dog that saw me through trials and tribulations of cancer and treatment is apparently cancer free as well after open chest surgery last week.

We went in on Tuesday to meet with a surgeon – to talk about options. He was the best in town, we were told – referred by our vet and other doggie parents – and Davis and I took off from work to attend.

We stood there with an anxious dog while Dr. Kerpsack reread some of the materials we had and then laid it out – Cameron either had a cyst (benign) or thymoma (cancer) based on all the imaging and all the studies and all his experience. If it was cancer, surgery was necessary and soon – if it was a cyst, it could get big enough to cause him trouble later but it wasn’t urgent. But, if we wait, guess what? It could get too big to operate at all. And, oh by the way, because our vet had conveyed a sense of urgency, he had scheduled time to take care of it today. What did we think?

I am still reeling with the intensity of these last few weeks – the recurrence of cancer in our lives, the pain of not knowing what to do, and then the difficult decision to put our helpless sweet animal through what would end up being open chest surgery. Now, remarkably, he is up walking around – we have to keep him from jumping on the bed – he doesn’t know his own limits it seems, only I know mine more acutely now than ever.

I think I am going through some version of PTSD – not that it was combat in the traditional sense, but certainly trauma. And for the entirety of the journey I feel I was able to keep moving – to not allow myself the moments of doom or anxiety that could have enveloped me.

The irony is I feel it now.

I feel such a sense of commitment to Cameron’s recovery that each decision – should he be allowed outside? Should he be forced to sleep in the guest room? When do I give him his pain meds? How do we separate him from the puppy energy? Each step has taken on a gravitas that is seeping into my bones.

All those feelings of loss and pain and loneliness are here again – retrograde.

The irony is that he’s doing great. The surgeon claimed that the prognosis was good and they removed the mass which it turned out was thymoma. It was 6cm by 10 cm. They also removed a giant lipoma (fat mass) that had developed under his chin – 30cm by 30cm. Now he is the dog formerly known as frog dog. And I can tell he’s loving it.

I just feel a little buffeted this time around. I have no additional bandwidth to process all the newness. The new normal again and again and again. It’s one thing to get a strategy for sleep with a new puppy. Quite another to layer on the adult dog recovering who wants to go upstairs but can’t with doctor’s orders and how do you keep them separate and happy with one adult available during the day over a three day weekend?

My husband has borne the brunt of the sleep disruption because I have no capability – no reservoir of strength any more for sleep disruption. I am so very thankful. Where would I be if I were truly sleep deprived instead of just sleep altered?

I also have no capability for additional responsibilities. I am ridiculously thankful we have the puppy – who else could we cuddle and coddle while going through this emotional rollercoaster? And she’s amazing and cute and funny and potty trained.

I went back and reread the notes and cards that you all sent throughout my most focused battle – with each day it gets better – you’ll look back on this and realize that it really did suck – and that every victory is worth noting.

It was a good reminder of the path I have taken – and now that I can help my dog take it too as best I can.

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Anxiety is back – that old familiar feeling

Blogging is cathartic for me. So, I hope I get some of that good juju by taking a break today to put it all on the line. This one will be all over the place – because that’s where I am right now. But ohwell, another day in the life.

I have a ball of anxiety in my stomach curled up consuming me right now. I have always tended toward anxious – that is the type A personality after all, but occasionally, it comes back. It is like a ball of warmth that sits in my belly – reminding me every minute that I am not in control. Hi there ball I say – and it rustles and coils.

It seems to coincide with lack of sleep. And, here we have again, lack of sleep. (puppy – more on that in a minute)

It seems to coincide with multiple workstreams of powerlessness – a lack of a plan or control on a few different fronts.

So, here I am with multiple issues (none life threatening, none that are massive), but without a means to corrale my feelings, emotions, or plan a next step, I am paralyzed with my anxiety ball until I either get enough sleep, take enough meds, or come up with enough plans to make it all better.

After the initial euphoria that the dog’s cancer was operable, there are qualifications. The surgeons are suggesting multiple surgeries to remove it, multiple procedures that would be violently invasive – requiring drains and stitches and recuperation and recovery. He is fine right now, laying next to me on the bed. He even managed to play a bit with the puppy at her insistence this weekend. How can we put him through such pain and uncertainty when he has no visible distress right now? How much discomfort should we force on him just to have him with us another six months? I fight back tears even as I write this – how do you decide someone else’s well being? When they have no say … and yes, he’s a dog, but the echoes to my past two years (how can I expect him at 10 1/2 to recover what I am still reeling from in terms of invasive and corrective surgery? how can I not provide him the same support and therapy that he provided to me?)

I am having trouble with my hip – a consistent muscle ache that leaves me unable to sit or stand certain days. Is it the cancer back? I have appointments with physical therapists and masseuses and have started doing yoga and exercising – but what if that’s not enough?

And, the puppy. She is wonderful – sweet and loving and curious and soft and hilarious. But she is up in the night – how do we balance what we know is right (giving her access to the yard) with the needs of the family – SLEEP. I think we’re going to have to go against my humane judgement and crate her at night in the back room. Sanity and our health and happiness has to come first. I remind myself that some dogs live outside all the time. And then I start to second guess – was it too much to take on to make this addition now? Was I wrong?

Sleeplessness is a funny thing – it deprives you of your ability to compartmentalize, to fairly judge the severity of issues, and you forget how powerful an agent of destruction it can be.

OK, my anxiety ball is a little smaller now – I know it will grow the next time I think about end of life for Cameron and the decisions we must make, but I also must remember he is our dog and he is loved and happy right now.

I must remember that we are kind and loving den mates for our puppy – who is learning what she can do, and we are learning what we can do. As Davis mentioned to me last night – sometimes these last few months my desire is not met by my capability. I can not do the sleepless nights right now.

And, I think and hope and pray that this is just my muscles struggling to understand how to support and manage my new self, and not the cancer back. Enough is on the plate right now.

I heard a hilarious rant the other day from a lady who had lost her mother, her boyfriend, her apartment, and was diagnosed with cancer.

She said “Does God really give us only what we can handle? I picture him up there sometimes laughing – oh, she can take a little more. And the angels saying, God – what are you thinking?”

 

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The New Year’s Blog – 2014 and cancer-free … for everyone?

I had thought this would be the year our family escaped the cloud of cancer. Unfortunately we enter with a diagnosis hanging over our doggie – thymoma – cancer of the thymus gland. However, it is operable, and we hope he will have a successful surgery and long and happy recovery. THANK GOODNESS. The best news possible given the situation.

The parallels between our diagnosis are striking to me. We had virtually no symptoms, had a chance scan, and discovered a massive lump. It makes me very thankful for modern technology, but also concerned in general -what else are we missing if we don’t pay attention?

Although … one major difference … I was not bounced for my scheduled CT scan because there was a zebra with an abdominal wound in need. Yes, a zebra, in College Station.

After the rollercoaster of emotions the past few days, we enter 2014 with profound relief and gratitude – that our dog has the capability to live long and happy – that we have the time and resources to tackle his cancer and my recovery. That we are surrounded by a loving and caring community who loves my “Nicky Minaj pink streaks” and our giant frog dog.

These are the times when I remember why 2012, and 2013 both didn’t suck.

  • I grew to a first name basis with my insurance company and reached my out of pocket maximum. Two years running. Cool thing is – nice tax break. Now that I’m working again, I can be so thankful for our cash flow and the fact that we had amazing insurance through IBM. $300K paid in total for me the last two years. Now that we are paying out of pocket for the dog, I realize the true magnitude of that gift.
  • I realized how amazing my husband is – that support I had planned to give him was returned a hundredfold as he took the reins of family control, family CEO, shrink, Mom and Dad. He was – and is – amazing.
  • I got to see what my body is capable of in terms of healing – and it’s pretty freaking awesome.
  • I’m no longer vain about my appearance. Not that I really ever was, and yes, I do wear makeup and earrings. But there are some bits here and there that aren’t what they used to be and hey, that’s OK. I mean, I’m also missing bits that should be there so I figure it all sorts out.
  • I get to have perky Barbie boobs – OF MY OWN CHOOSING! – for the rest of my life courtesy of insurance. Those of you without having nursed three children may not realize the importance of this. And yes, picking out a size is both weird and exhilarating. Then, there’s the tatooing process – something else I never would have imagined, and in some ways I feel empowered because I am now “edgier” – right?!
  • I’m a little less inclined to sweat the small stuff – or even the semi small stuff. This year’s Christmas cards were wonky, the presents were wrapped by my six year olds ( and yes, they bought me two pillow pets and a bathmat for Christmas), – and NO ONE CARES! And I’m happy with my pillow pet! It turns out that a lot of the stuff you thought was important just isn’t.

A friend asked me last night about resolutions. For the first time in many years, I don’t have any. I have hopes – that we get and stay cancer free. That my kids continue to be as happy and curious and excited as they have been. That our puppy continues to entertain, love and grow. That our family and friends have success and happiness and all the good things there are in 2014. I will try to walk a little more, eat a little better, (I did get a fit band for Christmas!) and take care of myself. But, all of that is gravy.

I resolve to live more in the moment than before. We have always been planners of the maximum variety and I think the edge has been dulled. Let’s go on that trip we put off (yes, I got to go to New York to see Christmas lights with JUST DAVIS  this year as a present!)

Our new motto: go with happy. And if that means three kids out at 37 degrees on their new scooters, then that’s just what it will be.

I wish everyone a happy HEALTHY prosperous new year, and joy every day.

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And now the dog has cancer

I am overwhelmed. The frivolity and happiness of the new puppy muted by the terrific disappointment and anguish of the dreaded C word again reappearing in our lives.

Like before, out of the blue. Like before, no real symptoms. Like before, fear and pain and sad.

Our 10 1/2 year old first “fur baby” Cameron didn’t eat his kibble the last day we were gone. When we came home, he was less than enthusiastic. But it could have been that we brought along a 10-week-old puppy. I mean, we knew he wouldn’t be thrilled by that addition in general, but this was downright weird. He is totally and completely food motivated.

We saw him breathing shallow, and thought – maybe there’s something in his mouth, on his neck.

Imagine our shock and surprise when we found out that based on the Xray, he had a “mass” – likely cancer.

The frenzy, the questions started anew. Where do we go for another opinion and soon? Where do we go to get the best care? What can we do? Will he die?

I cried more than when I was diagnosed. Somehow this felt worse – I was powerless. I have been a red ugly raw all weekend.

We still don’t know – a trip to the Texas A&M emergency room netted us a a 10am slot on Monday morning for a CT scan and diagnostic follow up with specialists – the best in the country. He will have a CT guided biopsy (eerily familiar to those of us who have undergone the X ray guided biopsy – at least he will be asleep!) The earliest we could do here in Austin – surprisingly – was the 15th of January.

It has been the longest and shortest two days in the last year. Going from ebullience at puppy cuteness – she chases her tail! she walks sideways! she has a white spot on her chest! To the recognition that our other dear dog, my therapy dog, might instead be lost this week.

We told the kids, this time avoiding the term cancer bugs – Davis was concerned that it would echo too much on their minds to my battle (cancer = death??) We told them there was a mass that wasn’t supposed to be there and there might be drugs to get it better. Dad and Cameron will go to the best doctors in the country on early Monday morning for the tests that will allow the doctors to see his body better. But, there might be a chance Cameron doesn’t come back. There might be a chance that he would die.

Henry said “Well, Mom, you’ve been through lots of surgeries and have been fine – I’m sure Cameron will be fine.” I am sure of it too, because this time around, like last time, the other option is unthinkable.

You may think me sappy or sentimental for being so attached to our dog, but I point you to my last two years and the net that was my constant support – Cameron amongst. And, now I am granted the glimpse into the world of those around the cancer patient – the frustration, the grief, the overwhelming sad. I feel what so many felt for me.

I guess the good news is that Cameron doesn’t know the fight he faces. But the rest of us do, and we see the end in sight. Much closer than we expected. As is always the case.

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Why NOT a puppy?

There are times when I find my journey has changed my outlook. Holidays are certainly one of those times. I was always a Christmas girl – my grandmother was literally Mrs. Claus on her stocking and it rubbed off. Last year, this year, more special – cramming as much fun and frolic into the season. The elf, bon bon parties, extra big live trees, etc. This year, a puppy.

Yes, a puppy.

Just about everyone thinks I’m crazy. I have been working on Davis for over three months, but I desperately want a puppy and we are getting her on December 26th.

I was thinking today about why.

Cameron is a great dog – my therapy dog and companion in all of this and in all of our last ten years. He is such a good dog with the NOTABLE exception of the counter surfing – only one place in the entire kitchen is safe – a three foot square plot of land at the back of the range. But he’s getting old. I want to spare my family the pain of losing a dog and having a void. I want our new dog to enjoy his company, to teach him, and for him to have a burst of puppy energy.

But I’m sure there’s some Freudian reason for my desire – a cathartic rebirth, seeing my mortality reflected in the eyes of my dog, an existential crisis.

For me, it’s the pursuit of happiness. What’s a few hours of sleep missing, a few chewed fingers, an extra mouth to feed, when you consider the joy and love that will come. Of course I say that now before we are inundated with housebreaking and a pouting septuagenarian.

This week, this holiday, may your gifts be merry and bright, and may you be 10% as excited as my kids are about the presents that await them. And 1% as excited as me.

 

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On a lighter Note

Some of the last few days in laughs:

When Aetna told me to go to Nordstrom’s to get fitted for my new camisole, she says “We don’t want you going somewhere without service – like (I heard her shudder through the phone) Macy’s”

How long does it take a four year old girl to pick out her pencil case … too long when there is an aisle of choices and Mommy’s feet already hurt. (It actually took eight minutes over two trips – does that count as extra double bonus?)

What happens when you put dishwashing soap in the dishwasher instead of dishwashing detergent? Lots of bubbles – and a whole lot of fun cleaning up bubbles with bowls.

“But why can’t I marry Carter?” says Emmy “I love him.”

“When I pick out my wife then I can have kids and live with you.” Henry

Our new nanny, Miss Lauren – to confuse the entire population of caregivers – brought her Australian shepherd puppy over today. The kids spent an hour chasing the puppy around in the backyard. Poor thing was totally worn out. (kids – don’t all attack her at once!)

“I want to go get a pedicure, Mommy. Do they have pedicures in Texas? But, I don’t want them to put pickles on my eyes.” Emmy

 

 

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Don’t Get a Puppy During Chemo

The proverbial straw that broke the already full basket of craziness that is the Wards occurred last night when the puppy came to visit. Evan – who was brought home by pleading children and an ambivalent – if incredulous – set of parents – is sweet, well-mannered, and loves people. He is sitting on my foot conked out right now. But, he’s heading home tonight back to his foster Mom.

We are well meaning people, and I’m sure that by Christmas we will be able to tackle a puppy project, but as soon as his foster Mom started rattling off the list of meds he needed and when (poor thing has a non-transferrable mange) and then started talking about how early he woke up I blanched. And then she mentioned how to handle the crying in the crate. And the potty training.

When your life is all about dogs, adding another doesn’t seem daunting. I do remember that fuzzy early puppy parenthood being taxing but didn’t remember the details. When you are used to Cameron who at age nine basically moves from the sofa to the floor each day, dogs are considered sweet non invasive pillows.

Evan is a typical puppy – and he came to visit us when the kids were hyped up on sugar and anticipation. They all ran around in circles and the kids got out every dog toy of Cameron’s that he didn’t use. It all looked wonderful and idyllic until the list of meds … and the grabbing of the papers, and the shoes, and I realized I can’t do this when Davis isn’t here. And when I’m not here, what do we do?

It was actually comic when that last straw hit. Around 7 the kids returned from a hasty dinner at Wendy’s because Evan’s foster stayed until almost 6. A monsoon struck our house and Cameron was hiding in a corner. We were trying to get the kids to bed but there was thunder and lightning and wind and crazy. We tried to get Evan to go outside to go potty but the torrential downpour was as forbidding to him as it was to the rest of us. So, in the middle of wandering through the rooms upstairs, he peed. Then he peed again. Davis finally took him outside under the largest umbrella we have to make sure that he went. And he did. But then he got mud all over the floors and the house.

Then this morning, he had another accident in the house and another of the other kind. In the night he was crying and barking anytime someone got up. He deserves better than what we can give him right now. Sending that email was wrenching because he is such a good puppy BUT I know it’s the right choice.

I joked that there would never be a good time to get a puppy given our lives. That may be true. But, this is a bad time. The additional chaos was too much – even having Davis away on business is about all we can manage.

We will return to our slightly off-normal routine after returning Evan tonight. The kids seem strangely nonplussed. In fact I mentioned to Emmy that we might be ready for a puppy by Christmas and she said “Really Mom, you’re not kidding? Can he be wrapped up in a box?”

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