Phase Two Part Two Addendum B: Still Still Healing

I am starting to feel a little panicky.

I know Foster has cancer and I feel confident the treatment protocol will be at least radiation. I can see my ability to work lessening while my expenses to care for him steeply increase. I can hear some people saying I am manifesting cancer and my panicky feeling turns to anger.  What if what I am seeing are facts of the future, and my ability to see these facts clearly and quickly have me well-prepared when action becomes a plan?

As I've typed before, I've been down this road before so I know we can do it, but I've been down this road before so I know it sucks.  Some of the things that suck the hardest:  People.  Let me tell you something I am going to anti-manifest - the kinds of people Satchel and I encountered when he was going through cancer treatment.  These kinds of people are not going to be in the realm of Foster's healing space.  I will not have them near him.

1.  The kind of people who say, "Cancer touches everyone's life.  You are no different or more special."

This bit of "advice" was given to me about nine years ago when I answered the seemingly polite questions "How are you?  What's new?"  I had responded with a confession of stress and emersion into healing Satchel from soft-tissue sarcoma.  It was not a lengthy confession, nor an effort to receive praise or pity.  It was just a response of something that was new that was also consuming and stressful.

I wasn't looking to be seen as special, but being a full-time caregiver to someone who is ill can be challenging.  Being a full-time caregiver to someone who is healthy can be challenging.  Loving is wonderful and consuming, and sometimes it really hurts and is stressful when the focus of your love is hurting.

Some people need to make themselves feel important by making you and your life experiences appear insignificant.  I will not have these people in Foster's space, and if I hear anything like this, this time I may respond with, "Well, you're mean and you suck."  If nothing else, those kinds of words inspire my "Are-You-Sure-You-Want-To-Say-That-To-Me?" look.

2.  The kind of people who ask, "You do realize he is just a dog, right?"

While I am already feeling the physical and monetary stress of caring for Foster, he is my family, and to take care of my family is why I work.  I know what people mean when they say this, but I have no understanding of it.  Instead of being angry all the time, I feel sorry for people who think this way.  They are unable to experience the depth of love and devotion available in a relationship with a dog.  They do not know the level of love I do, and I feel sorry for them.

3.  The kind of people who, with a snarky tone of importance, say, "Let's not choose dogs over people."

This example often results from spillover from #2.  This statement of superiority usually enters when there is any conversation about dog behavior people don't want to work with.  I believe dogs who have bitten, bark incessantly, dig, run away, chew everything, look like pit bulls, are pit bulls, etc. can be well-behaved, loyal listeners with a dedicated owner.  Instead of saying, "I don't have the discipline or motivation to work with that," they say, "Well, you don't have kids.  I don't choose dogs over people."

It also comes up with respect to money.  Surgery and radiation alone for Satchel were very very expensive, and the additional costs of medications, home cooking, daily travel to and from radiation appointments, my inability to work, and more were very very expensive as well.  During the time of Satchel's cancer, when I was asked to do some thing, or to donate to a friend's fundraiser, I remember saying something like I couldn't afford it right now, and I remember this type of response more than once, "That's what happens when you choose dogs over people."

That's what happens?! So if I'd donated to that person, or paid for a baby shower, I'd have more money?!  My statement of inability to afford was never a complaint, just a fact, and people's efforts to shame me or judge me as stupid, or less in some way, did hurt.  It hurt because I felt so lonely.  I've experienced judgment before, but this type of judging is deeper.  The harsh judgment of my values.  Being considered fat or ugly has been less hurtful than being considered stupid or being pushed to believe my values are shameful.

These are just three examples of the mean things people have said.  This time, with Foster, I may encounter these same kinds of people, but this time, I hope they will be quieter.  This time, I still won't have any burning comebacks, but maybe I won't need them.  My ultimate comeback will be walking beside me - a living, healing, dignified Foster Dog.  There is no better proof of right decisions made.

Phase Two Part Two Addendum A: Still Healing

When someone you love is recovering from an illness or trauma, you feel the stress.  There is often sleep deprivation and vigilant attendance to, and anticipation of, every physical and emotional need.  There are accommodations made to schedules and routines and meals and sleeping spaces.  These stressors are common in everyone's life, and I do not find them distressful, but when I cannot meet every need my loved one has, the resulting feeling of helplessness is distressing to me.

I felt helpless yesterday.  Foster's incision did not look right to me.  Some swelling, some opening, and an issue with one of the stitch and skin-supporting stents.  While every aspect of surgery is important, a patient can manage surgery fantastically, but be overwhelmed and damaged by improper wound care. I don't compliment myself often, but I know I'm a great caretaker.  Foster's incision issues were beyond my sadly vastly experienced wound care skill set.  Thank You God for animal emergency rooms.

That top stent just looks like it's causing problems.

The forced separation in ERs and hospitals is distressing to me.  I have been getting around the prominently displayed rules of visiting hours, MRI procedures and ICUs for years, but there are some areas OSHA just won't allow non-employees to go, and I have to comply in the 60-75% range.  I was helpless to OSHA in one area at Doggy ER.  The separation was short, but strongly felt, and the diagnosis was validating, surprisingly positive, as well as distressing.

My Little Fosse is just plain worn out from the stress of trying to heal...and who wants to spend time in an ER???

I was concerned about swelling, wound opening, and what appeared to be decreased vascularity in one area.  I was really concerned about Foster's skin becoming necrotic, or at the very least infected, due to swelling around one stent which was appearing to cut his already compromised thin skin.  The report was no abscess, no wound opening, no necropsy, no infection, but all potential if swelling was not reduced.  Unfortunately, the anti-inflammatory prescribed post-surgery was causing stomach upset.  Stomach upset/Loss of appetite is the first sign of potential ulcers with this prescription, so its use had to be discontinued immediately.  One hundred sixty two dollars later, Foster had No abscess, No necrotic tissue, No open wound, No infection and No ulcer, but No Real Remedy.  Helpless, I felt helpless.  Somewhat relieved, but helpless.

Knowing I was not truly helpless, I secured an appointment with the surgeon, our original and favorite vet, today.  She agreed that my area of concern would benefit from the removal of one stent, and while the wound would appear open, the subcutaneous stitches were holding and Foster's skin would granulate and fill in the gap.  Stent removed, Foster feeling GOOD!  Yay for Foster Dog!!!!

Though parts of Foster Dog's healing process have been distressing, and I've felt helpless, I know that I am not powerless.  Though his care costs money I am unable to earn when I have to run to the vet, I am secure in another way.  When I am able to speak for my family members who depend on me for everything, I feel strong and as if I can spread that strength.  It is wonderful how many lessons are learned, and how much confidence is created, by the dogs in my life.  I am blessed.  Sometimes I am distressed, but I am always blessed.

The Big Cone had to go on.

Foster Dog is showing you how happy he is about that.

Phase Two Part Two: Healing

Healing has begun.

It's always good when a recovering loved one is eating!

Foster thinks he can do much much more than he should.  While I'm happy he is eating, what he really wants to do is lick that wound.  He hates the inflatable collar.  Hates. It.

Uucchh, this thing.

He wanted to go with us on The Walk this morning and I couldn't deny him a short jaunt.  He wanted to roll in the grass on his back. Aaacchhh!!!!  He wanted to go into the deep woods to poop.  Yay for pooping, but Aaacchhh!  He wanted to keep walking and walking.  Good Grief No!  I thought for sure he ripped at least one stitch in the ten minutes we were out, but Thank You God, it was just blood oozing from the wound.  Nice.

"The Lady was right.  I tried to do too much.  I'm so sleepy..."

I'm trying to balance everyone's needs with Foster's needs and that can be challenging.  It is so ridiculously hot out that walking much isn't safe for The Pack, but Atticus is getting a little bored.  He's been on Foster Dog Watch, and that seems to make him happy.  Not so sure about how happy that makes Foster Dog, but he just needs to rest.  Healing can take a lot out of a puppy!

Foster using the collar thingy as a pillow.

Atticus on Foster Dog Watch.

"I'm watching over him, Lady.  Everything's ok."

Phase Two: The Surgery

Foster experienced surgery like a champ.

We were told to arrive between 7 & 8am, and though I told them I would be staying, it "wasn't scheduled that way."  We had to wait an additional two hours before being called into a room.  I'd brought plenty to do and plenty to eat and drink, but since Foster was not allowed to eat or drink, I couldn't, and we just hung out in the air conditioning seeing everyone's arrival and departure.

Hanging in the waiting room under the rocking chair.

Hey there's a bird here!!!

Once we were in a room, we were able to stay the entire time which is so helpful to me, and I think it was helpful to Foster.  He was able to fall out under anesthetic with us right there, and he was able to go through the stress of coming out of the anesthetic with his head in my lap.

The Lump

Fosse under

Some news we received just before surgery has me both relieved and upset.  The local vet who sent out the aspirate for analysis reported that the cells analyzed showed a mast cell tumor that needed to be removed ASAP for staging.  I was told it was cancer and treatment would depend on the staging done through pathology.  Our favorite vet who performed the surgery told us that the analysis shows "undifferentiated mast cells that may indicate malignancy."  Quite different.  Choosing surgery is not an overly aggressive choice resulting from the report either way, but still, I've been overly stressed that my Sweet Foster Dog has a Stage III or IV mastocytoma.  I suppose that is still possible, but I feel less alarmed at the moment.

Fosse finding his land legs.

It took Foster a long time to get his "land legs," and he was in serious pain.  It's a horrible thing to hear someone you love yelp and cry.  It was challenging getting him in and out of the car and into the house, but after a few hours of hanging out in his favorite places, Foster started to figure out how to get around on three legs.  He ate some kibble mixed with rice and lapped up some water, and finally slept.  He's shown he is the strong, smart, sweet dog we know him to be.

Home and in a favorite place - The Massage Room

Finally Sleeping
(It didn't last long...his human is sooooo tired.)

There's more healing to come and more adjustments and changes to make.  There is a pathology report to wait for and results to hear and a Foster Dog to take care of.  These are all things I can do.

The Plan: Phase One

Fosse says Thank You to all of you for your sweet words of support.  He told me to tell you he feels fine.  He knew something was a little "off," but couldn't exactly say how.  We've learned that some of the symptoms associated with Mast Cell Tumors can be what I was observing, but those symptoms could also be from the seasonal weather changes that cause FD's nose to whistle from extra phlegm and pressure.  We're working to not overreact, under react, or worry.  We will manage everything we encounter with the same passion we live - we're a family, and everything is better when we are all together.

Attie tells Foster it's gonna be ok.

We're in it together.

Foster's surgery is scheduled for Tuesday, July 16th.  J & I will arrive with him at the veterinary surgeon's office between 7 & 8am.  The amount of time we will be there cannot yet be determined because Foster has not experienced surgery under our care, we can't know the extent of the tumor until surgery is underway, and we're not sure how Foster manages waking up from anesthetic.  We plan for him to be the Champ he is with everything, and we are planning to just camp out at the office and be with him every second he is not behind surgical doors.

This is one experience where The Pack will be separated.  I am feeling both uncomfortable and comfortable with this.  I'm used to doing everything together even if it's not exactly easy, but because my focus needs to be on Foster 100%, Luna and Atticus will stay at home.

In preparation for surgery, I am discontinuing some of Foster's daily supplements.  Vitamin C & Vitamin E can cause issues with surgical bleeding.  Fish oil and Glucosamine can as well, so none of that for a few days.  These supplements can help with healing, so he will be back on them after surgery and we'll treat his wound with aloe and arnica.

Before Foster's diagnosis I had begun reconsidering The Pack's nutrition.  With commercial food recalls, and my memories of healing Satchel and Koko with home cooking, I looked to my books and notes and started thinking.  When we were healing Satchel from cancer and cancer treatment, and healing Koko from colitis, they thrived on one particular recipe from Dr. Pitcairn's Guide and The Whole Pack enjoyed Dr. Pitcairn's Healthy Powder.  In my grief of letting go of Koko and Satchel, I think I just quit on Dr. Pitcairn, and the time consuming tasks of home cooking and making Healthy Powder, but I've found my way back to Healthy Powder and I'm finding my way back to home cooking.

Since I learned of Dr. Pitcairn, there are several more resources about what and how to feed your pets without purchasing commercially prepared foods.  Some resources are infinitely better than others, and the ones I'm choosing to follow follow the nutritional science of calories, percentages, and essential ingredients.  I'm not a veterinary nutritionist, so I don't feel comfortable telling you what is best for your dog, but here's what I'm recommitting to do for My Pack.

Follow the general rule of 15 calories per pound of ideal body weight.
This is how I am calculating how many calories each dog needs for each day.  They will get a few more calories through supplements, and a few more calories through the treats J gives them, but they will receive 15 calories per pound of ideal body weight as food.

At least 40% of their calories will come from animal protein.
Some resources will tell you dogs need 10-20% protein, others will tell you they need at least 50%, others will tell you they need nothing but protein.  I'm going with 40%, and I'll see how they do.  I am also going to give some variety and I'm choosing roasted chicken, the gizzards from the roasted chicken, ground beef, sardines and eggs.

Calcium supplement.
From my research, a balance of calcium and phosphorus is the most overlooked nutritional component in raw food and home cooked diets for dogs.  Humans have 206 bones.  Dogs have 319 bones.  They need a lot of calcium.  A few times per week, My Pack will receive a sprinkle of pulverized egg shells over their food.  I'm working on understanding how much calcium they will receive through sardines and spinach to figure out the amount.

The other 60% of their calories is something I'm still working out.  Some resources tell you dogs do not need carbohydrates, others remind you that it is the dog's ability to adapt to the starchy diets of humans that aided in their domestication.  I know The Pack likes rice, sweet potatoes, pumpkin, spinach, carrots, green beans, and a few other vegetables, but I haven't worked out the breakdown yet.  For them to be able to process the nutrients, vegetables have to be cooked, but not super cooked.  Steamed, still crunchy, just like we like them!

Supplements.
For years, The Pack in all its forms has received acidophilus, fish oil, glucosamine, Vit E, and Vit C.  Luna receives a special Joint Powder I buy which has glucosamine and quercetin and some other joint support ingredients.  For the last month, everyone has been receiving Healthy Powder again which is made from Brewer's Yeast, Lecithin, Bone Meal and Sea Kelp, and since the Tick Protection Plan has been in place, they've been receiving granulated garlic (Foster Dog does not like the garlic, at all, so he's not eating that one.).  My house doesn't always smell good, but my dogs look and feel good!  I read that Selenium helps with cancer, so I'm going to add that one.

With all this nutrition, how have any of my dogs developed cancer?  Cancer is a tricky tricky thing.  We don't know how to cure it in all its forms, and we don't know all its reasons for developing, but nutrition is beneficial for more than just avoiding or healing from cancer.  To me, food is the most basic, the most primal, gift I can give to My Pack.  I'm going to provide the highest quality, most nutritionally sound, diet I can afford.  The End.

I Am Team Foster Dog

I knew that lump didn't look right.  A small bump on Foster Dog's back left leg.  Then it seemed bigger.  Then it seemed smaller.  I knew it wasn't right.  It's not right.  The lump is a Mast Cell Tumor.  That means cancer.

We have been down this road before so I know we can do it, but we've been down this road before so I know it sucks.

Foster is My Little One.  At 60 pounds, he's the smallest in The Pack, and he is just so sweet and tolerant and easy-going, and I'm sick about what he is about to endure.

Surgery is first.  Working on scheduling that as quickly as possible.  I've reached out to the veterinarians I know and they are all telling me they will do whatever I want.  I appreciate them trusting that I am informed and that I know what is best, but what I want is for this to not be happening to My Little One, to My Pack.

So for now, I will be consumed.  It's what happens when someone you love needs you in this deeply serious way.  It's at least what happens to me.  This is not about me, but I am the one Foster depends on to take care of him, so I have to be on my A-Game at all times.  He will do the healing and I will provide the environments.

Let's do this, Foster Dog.