Dixie, our beloved 10 year old dog, has been to see a veterinary radiologist to find out the prognosis for zapping the last of her mast cell tumors. The verdict is mixed. On the one hand, there don't appear to be any more mast cells in the problem area, or elsewhere in her body. On the other hand, the ultrasound showed a distinct, and worrisome, mass adjacent to one of her adrenal glands. This is definitely an unexpected, previously invisible, and unhappy discovery. She'll be going in for more tests next week as we try to determine what it is, and how to treat it.
Do you have any idea what this is costing? Damned near as much as if she were a person. It's horrifying to have to ask the questions we're asking. How much do we pay before we say it's not worth it? How soon until she begins having problems from the growth, whatever it is? What if the mast cells recur elsewhere in her body? What results can we expect for our thousands of dollars, and will she be gaining a few years or just a couple if we pursue radiation or chemo? Is her quality of life going to decline from now on from a combination of illnesses and treatments?
When will we have to decide to put her down?
Pardon me if I can't see the screen for the tears. I'm certainly not about to have her put down any time soon, you understand, it's just that I'd hoped we wouldn't be thinking about this for another four or five years. She's not entirely recovered from the surgery yet; she's a little more lethargic than I would like. It was a success, though, so I'm glad we did it. The wound has healed beautifully. Her hair's growing back in, or was until the radiologist shaved her for the ultrasound. The histamine attacks were cured by giving her Benadryl for a week. In general, she feels pretty good. Her appetite is back and she's as stubborn as ever on walks. She smiles like a dope when you flop her soft ears for her. She wriggles with happiness when you spell out the word "walk."
Remind me to sign one of those Do Not Prolong statements for my will. If my time comes, if the pain and the illness is all there is to my life and I fall into a coma, I don't want my next of kin to have to make that decision. Let me go. As I fear I will someday soon have to let my dog go, bathed in tears, beloved to the end.
