Detours and Thank Yous

I was mentally prepared for the stress of today.  Chemotherapy treatment number one of eight for Foster.  I was feeling stress about the separation for the preliminary abdominal ultrasound, but hoped it would provide some easy, non-cancerous reasons for Foster's change in appetite and frequent intestinal bloat.  I voiced my anxiety about separation as Foster was led away from me, and my anxiety only increased when the oncology assistant told me I could come back with her about 30 minutes earlier than expected.  I knew that wasn't enough time for Foster to have an ultrasound, have it read, and have a chemotherapy infusion.

Foster was reportedly angelic during the ultrasound, licking the oncology assistant's face during the procedure.  Sadly, two masses were seen on his spleen.  They are unrelated to his mastocytoma.  Before any further mast cell treatment can be considered, Foster must have his spleen removed.  The incision will be neck to pelvis.  My Sweet Angel.  My Foster Dog.  Oh, man, buddy.

So, it could be really bad, and I initially felt devastation and defeat, but three hours later, I have hope.  My J said something that has given me peace.  He has once again made negativity and fear evaporate.  J said that Foster is lucky he had a mast cell tumor.  This is right.

Foster Dog knows how to Road Trip

We are all lucky Foster had a mast cell tumor, and we are lucky we have the aggressively healing attitude to treat it.  Most splenic tumors become known through slow bleeds or death from their rupture.  Due to Foster's mastocytoma, and seeking treatment, the preliminary abdominal ultrasound, looking for metastasis, showed these splenic tumors while they are intact.  Foster can live without his spleen.  He can live without it.  Without cancer, we may have learned of these splenic tumors only after it was too late to save him.  Because of cancer, Foster can actually live.

Today, we can thank cancer.

So the treatment plan has taken a detour.  Removal and biopsy of Foster's spleen is next.

Foster Dog, let's do this, buddy.

Oh Yeah, I'm Awesome!

A Break In The Healing Action

It's been all Foster all the time for a few weeks and he is doing great.  His stitches are out and his incision is nearly healed.

Even with the challenges, Foster Dog knows how to heal!

Foster is not the only member of The Pack, and his Pack Mates have been busy too.  While Fosse was healing, he couldn't go on The Walk with us, and sadly, he missed this discovery.

Another paper lantern.  They've been a big hit this summer.

Atticus has been home for a long time now and he's shown us he has a great nose and fast legs.  He's also shown he's pretty quick on the leash.  I received a bit of whiplash when Atticus pounced, grabbed, shook and flung this little one in the span of about three seconds.

Sorry, little snaky...

We've all known for the 10 years she's brightened our lives that Luna is something special.  She sent a supportive note to a friend of ours and the friend sent these to Luna.

The card simply said, "Thank You Luna!"

The Pack has been busy doing Pack things.  Our adventures are small, but we make the most of them!

Phase Three: Diagnosis and Treatment

Ok, a few things have gone on since Foster's emergency room visit and incision dramas.  Pretty much all good!

Even with a cone on, and antibiotics in his stomach, Foster has been feeling pretty good.  He's been rather picky about eating, and has decided he no longer likes sweet potatoes.  He's loved them for two years, but now, or at least while he is antibiotic-filled, he says, "Um, no thanks."  I mean, who wouldn't want to eat this?

Kibble, brown rice, bone broth and baked sweet potato

Foster's favorite meal lately is eggs with sardines, so that is what he is healing with, as well as chicken, no rice, just chicken thank you very much, Lady.  He knows I'll feed him whatever he wants, and Luna and Atticus have had no problem eating Foster's "leftovers"!

The Diagnosis:
Foster had a Mast Cell Tumor of Medium Grade.  Specific immunocytology provided information on three markers which show he does not have a genetic issue, but the tumor is aggressive.  It has been removed, and just a few years ago, surgical removal would have been all that could have been done, but now there are a few more options that increase survivability to over 80%.

The Treatment Plan:
Foster will begin chemotherapy next Wednesday.  He will receive 8 treatments over 3 months and should be cured.  Cured.  Most dogs tolerate the one drug administered through a "quick push," not an IV drip, very well, and they do not lose their hair.  If there is intolerance, Foster may experience some diarrhea.  It is not a given response, but if he does respond with diarrhea, there are drugs to give to support him.

We are also scheduled for a Nutritional Consult to go over the home cooking plan, which I've decided to supplement with kibble, as well as supplements and herbal remedies to support Foster through treatment.  I will continue the home cooking for everyone even once Foster is healed, and I will give supplements to everyone to support The Pack's immunity and overall health!

I feel a little stressed about what is to come, but also calm because we have the choice to do this.  Foster is such a champ, I feel confident he will manage treatment with the sweetness and strength he manages everything.  He is feeling great and doing great.  He is our Super Foster Dog!

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.