My Fire Hydrant

Today, an acquaintance–when learning about Bailey’s cancer–started talking to me about how important it is for me to get a new dog once Bailey is gone, and was I gonna get one? This is the second time that this subject has been broached since we got the diagnosis and I firmly believe that both of these people do not themselves share their lives with dogs. I don’t think they spoke this way to be mean. I believe they thought they were being comforting and had no clue how their words affected me. To talk right now–even to think–about a new dog seems to me at best disloyal to my pooch and at worst something so distastefully vile as to be ranked with the perverts who get their kicks by watching the obituaries and placing obscene phone calls to recently widowed women. I am working at living in the moment with Bailey. I’ve talked some with Dr. B. about how things will play out as we get nearer the Rainbow Bridge, but I’m not able/willing to look beyond that point yet (Actually, I have to be careful thinking about the Bridge because it turns on the waterworks). ‘Nuff said.

Yesterday I sent in my $26 ($16 to the county, $10 donated to the spay/neuter fund) to renew Bailey’s license to be a dog. It felt weird. As if renewing her dog license might in some way validate her life. Got a license? OK, you’re free to live your life as a dog for another year. Wish it were that easy. We were supposed to go today for a blood test. Decided not to. What’s the point? Why put her through the stress? When the cancer reaches a certain threshold, her calcium will start to rise and she’s gonna start drinking extra water. I’m watching the water dish like Trump watches his money, so I’m probably gonna catch it when the water drinking increases. That’s the point when we take the next (and probably final) action. That will be the start down the path to the Rainbow Bridge. Poop! I’m crying again!

OK, enough with being maudlin! I’m going to post some more cute photos that I took with my new camera–which I’m beginning to think was a really good investment!

…Bailey does the “Give Me a Cookie” song.

No doubt about it, we’ve had 4 good days! This morning I woke up before Bailey. When she lifted her head I could just see the half-moon of her little pink tongue sticking out (sorta like Mr. Winkles, but more natural). Dr. D. says the tongue thing is involuntary–she does it because she’s so relaxed. She looked like a little stuffed animal. Way too cute.

Off-and-on all day today she’s been doing the cookie dance–”can I have a cookie? please can I have a cookie? I really need a cookie. Isn’t it time for a cookie?” Enuf to drive me crazy. But it doesn’t. My little girl is feeling better!

Yesterday was a good day. Today is looking like it might be a good day, too.

I’ve made some changes to Bailey’s sleeping areas. First, I’ve stuffed so many pillows under my bed, she no longer has access. A part of me was reluctant to do this because under-the-bed has become her place of refuge (more so then her crate) and I hate to deny her anything at this point. But our floors are very cold–it’s winter and since we don’t have a basement the freezing temperatures outside seem to find ways to creep inside through the cement block that our house sits on. Cold floors. I have some guilt feelings because I didn’t put my foot down sooner about her under-the-bed hiding–I think the exposure to the cold floor may have aggravated her arthritis and caused the crisis of Tuesday night.

But no more. Under-the-bed is no longer an option.

I’ve also replaced her bed that sits at the foot of my bed with a folded up quilt and blanket. She has been reluctant to get into her bed all week, and I think it’s because it hurts her to turn around in order to lay down. So I’ve got a folded quilt with her faux sheepskin blanket folded on top–8 layers. Between the quilt and the floor I’ve put a heating pad on low. There’s a danger of burning the skin when you use a heating pad to heat a dog bed, but there’s 8 thick layers between the heating pad and Bailey’s hip and I am constantly monitoring the temperature of the top layer. She had a nice, long snooze there last night while I watched must-see TV (which it turns out is only half-see TV–Will & Grace is not what it used to be and Four Kings is a dud. Earl and The Office are the only really funny things going on Thursday nights). My little pooch was toasty warm and very comfortable. Gotta smile about that.

Today I had to go out for a few hours. Had lunch with the always wonderful Sherri H.–she had a treat basket for the pooch. When I got home, I unwrapped it and gave Bailey one of the toys. This prompted her to do a mini Bichon Blitz which I had to limit because I was afraid she would hurt herself (I think she also felt a little reluctance–”Mom am I gonna hurt myself again?”). Ah! But it did my heart good to see her running like a crazy thing.

After that particular piece of showing off I had to get back to work which meant it was time to do the cookie song and dance. I sit at the desk and Bailey hops between the bed under my desk and the floor to the right of my chair while she sings (in her best Bichon soprano) “Can I have a cookie? Can I have a cookie? Gimmie a cookie right now! I wanna cookie right now! where’s my cookie? I really need a cookie!” (imagine Bart and Lisa Simpson when they really really want something and you’ll be close). This has become her favorite song since I’ve brought biscuits back in her life.

Time for my own song and dance: Can I have some more days like this? Please? Can I please have several months of days like this? Maybe a year? Longer? Can I please?

So yesterday I was enjoying my last holiday before work. Bailey was stretched out on my legs and we were both enjoying the La-zy-boy recliner. I was beginning to think that maybe some of the normal I had been wanting was coming back. Uh, nope.

She got up, didn’t move, but yelped loudly. Then she jumped off the end of the foot rest and disappeared under the bed. Later, we walked down to the fire hydrant (need to post a photo of that) and back. As we were getting ready to go back inside, Bailey noticed one of our neighbors across the street walking her dog, Oscar. Bailey gave a few soft barks as if to say “Yo Oscar! How ya doin’?” and Oscar and his mom started across to street and Bailey literally screeched. She wasn’t moving, but what a yelp she let off. And her back legs were trembling. We went into the house and she went under the bed and moped the rest of the evening.

She wouldn’t get up in the bed with me last night, wouldn’t let me lift her up. She slept mostly in her own bed, but when I got up to pee at 6 she was snoozing in her crate–something she hasn’t done in a long long time. And I had a really hard time getting her to go out for her first potty of the day.

She spent most of today sleeping under my desk–we’re starting to get back to the routine of me working at my desk all day and her managing and advising me from under the desk (so helpful to have such an intelligent little dog to guide me through my work day!). There was a moment at lunch time when she looked at me with that sleepy-doopy look on her face and her little pink tongue sticking out like a goofy stuffed toy–Dr. D. (at the office) says that when dogs are very relaxed they can seem to loose control of their tongues–the tongues sorta flop out of their mouths without them knowing it. I had never seen this on any of the other dogs I’ve shared my life with. But when Bailey is really relaxed and cozy that old tongue just pops out and she hasn’t got a clue that it’s not in its proper place. I thought maybe things were approaching my normal again. Uh, nope.

She did too much snoozing today–and hardly any pottys. After lunch, I tried to get her to go out and ended up taking her to the pee pad by her leash. She flooded the place! She did not want to leave the bedroom. But then around 5:30 she “asked” to go out, so we walked down to the corner. She pooped (finally!) and peed and when we got back she refused to step up the single step to the front porch–I had to lift her. My stomach acids started churning.

I fed her–she wanted to eat, in fact she asked for cookies on and off all day long. But she was hugging the bedroom–wouldn’t come out while I fixed her supper (she usually supervises) and wouldn’t come out when I called her for a cheesy treat (ah! the joys of pilling with the Laughing Cow!). So I brought her cheese cube (which secretly held her antibiotic) into the bedroom and gave it to her. She was standing. She ate the cheese then let out another yelp. And I decided, enough is enough. Called Bigger Road (God bless them!). They’re supposed to close at 7 but at 6:30 I was on my way with the pup.

Dr. B. manipulated her back legs–sure enough she was feeling some pain. I’m thinking, it’s gotta be a big tumor pressing against a nerve or something, once again the water works are going. Dr. B. took Bailey off into the dreaded back room to do a rectal exam and also to take some x-rays. Turns out, it’s arthritis! My poor little pooch has a pocket of arthritis in the ball joint where her right back leg joins her pelvis.

So, another shot of pain killer, another prescription (Metacam), and she’s been under the bed since we came home–except for the very few moments she came into the office and took a tremendous dump on the pee pad. When she showed me the x-rays, Dr. B. pointed out all the little poops waiting to come out–lotsa them. She figured that it probably was painful for Bailey to squat down into the poop position. Guess the shot helped.

I’m still looking for that normal time…

Had another scare this week.

Bailey’s trachea has always been a small issue–it’s partially collapsed. So, anytime she has surgery there is a danger of more damage.

On Wednesday at 12:07 in the afternoon, Bailey (who had been sleeping soundly under my desk in her bed) popped up, jumped out of bed and rushed into the bedroom to have a prolonged session of “backwards sneezes.” It lasted for 25 minutes!

Backwards sneezing is not uncommon for Bailey–she has them every now and then, and I believe they have some relationship to her partially collapsed trachea. But the sneezes have never gone on for such a long period of time. After it was done, she had 2 vomits–both were mostly white goopy stuff, one had pieces of biscuit in it. Off-and-on for the rest of the day she had short sessions of reverse sneezes. And her breathing was noticeably rougher. (It sounded like something was stuck in her nose–all I could think about was what one of the oncologists said about her sneezing when the stitches came out, “It could be a tumor…”)

Of course I panicked (DUH! I’m neurotic about this dog, remember?). First I spoke to Dr. D. at the office (so glad I work for Iams!), then I called my own vet, Dr. B. and left her a voice mail (after all, Bailey was breathing–though roughly–and did not appear to be in any immediate danger, and I’m trying not to be like the boy who cried “wolf!” I don’t want to bother Dr. B. any more then I have to in order to keep my sanity.) Dr. B. called me back within an hour (such a compassionate doctor!! I am so blessed that she’s Bailey’s vet!), and reassured me that it was probably OK. She suggested we try some Children’s Benydril to see if it would dry up any congestion.

That night, Bailey’s breathing was the roughest it’s ever been. Of course, she snores–what dog doesn’t? (for that matter, what human doesn’t?) But she could not seem to get comfortable for sleeping, she kept changing position and finally jumped down to go under the bed (not a really good sign). I got very little sleep–her “tossing and turning” kept me awake AND I was worried about her. (Again, so glad I work for Iams–what other employer would be so understanding when I called yesterday morning to say I would be late because my dog was not feeling well and kept me up most of the night?)

And right after I let S. know I would be a little late, I called Bigger Road and got a 5:30 appointment with Dr. B. Just making a plan made me feel better.

Dr. B. heard the rough breathing right away (see? I’m not as neurotic as I appear!) So Bailey got a shot of cortisone and some antibiotic pills (Sulfameth/Trimethoprim) to guard against pneumonia.

Today, the Pooch’s breathing is much more like normal–sometimes it’s a little rough, but I can hear a difference from yesterday. And I am feeling a little guilty. In the 2 weeks since her stitches were removed, she’s put on a pound. If I’m doing my math correctly, that’s almost a 6% weight gain (1/17.5=0.057) which is the same as a 150 pound person putting on 9 pounds in 2 weeks. Obesity can have an adverse effect on partially collapsed treacheas, and all the biscuits Bailey has gotten in the past 2 weeks may have contributed to the backwards sneeze session that started the whole cycle.

You think I’m placing too much weight (pardon the pun) on a 1 pound increase? Doesn’t matter. Dr. D. said something of the same thing to me last week: I want to make her last few months happy, but that’s no reason to make her so fat that the weight causes extra problems. So I’m gonna have to be more careful about how much I give her. Before we started down our current pathway, she was getting between 300 and 400 calories a day. A half a can of EVD Low Residue is 224. That leaves between 76 to 176 calories for biscuits and treats–around 6 biscuits a day.

I’m not sure who gets the most pleasure out of the biscuits–me or her! I’m just gonna have to squash the urge to overcompensate by giving her food.

I want my dog well! I’m scared to death that we’re not gonna get back to “normal” — with nothing causing her pain or sickness so she can be her sweet snotty spoiled self like it was back in October before she started drinking so much water. I WANT SOME NORMAL BEFORE I HAVE TO GIVE HER UP!

One day at a time. One day at a time. I’m starting to sound like a member of AA.

Yesterday was the last of our “social obligations” for the holidays, so today I feel a sudden yen to count my blessings.

1. We have left-over home-made cheesecake. Yes, my mom made cheesecake and it was part of a lunch we had with my boss and former boss on Friday, and the neighbor gathering we hosted last night (both of these meals have become a tradition for us). There’s probably 4 slices left and I am going to get my fair share–even though neither one of us should be indulging in the fat and calories.

2. We have turned down a get-together with my counsin’s family today so that we can have an entire day to ourselves where we don’t have to do anything. Every weekend since before Thanksgiving has had some kind of social gathering that we’ve attended and with all that’s been going on it’s really nice to have a day where we can sorta goof-off and not have any obligations to worry about–including straightening up the house for guests. Not that we don’t love everyone we’ve been seeing, but sometimes it’s really wonderful to re-charge your batteries by not doing anything at all.

3. As I write this, I’m finishing off a bottle of a really delightful zinfandel. Now, I realize that some people might look at the words “delightful zinfandel” and possibly see an oxymoron, but I am not a wine snob and I really like the taste of this Zin and it’s giving me a low-grade buzz that is not unpleasant. I’ve never worked on my computer with a little buzz going on–may have to do that more often.

4. The weather is mild and our snow is gone. Most people would want a white Christmas, not me. Bailey has been very inconvenienced during the past 2 and a half weeks because the snow was covering the grass and she didn’t know where to do her business (the pee pads sometimes just don’t cut it). I cleared a patch of grass around the patio and by our front door (causing our visitors to offer up many chuckles, much laughter and not a few jokes about how I had missed the sidewalk when I shoveled), but these areas soon lost their charm and Bailey wanted to go further afield for potty pastures. Alas, the snow put the kibosh (would you believe I found that word in the American Heritage Dictionary?) on that plan! But now the snow is gone and we’ve actually had 2 walks all the way down to the end of the block and back! (She was totally pooped–pardon the pun–after both walks and had to have a good snooze).

5. Bailey groomed my ankles this morning. Ever since she was a puppy, every morning when I brush my teeth she has come into the bathroom and licked my ankles, grooming them. OK, maybe that sounds a little kinky. I have to admit that sometimes it tickles. But I’ve always looked at it as Bailey’s way of helping me start my day–make sure mom’s ankles are clean. She has not done this since the surgery. It may sound silly, but it was a very welcome experience. She’s starting to feel better from the surgery.

6. I figured out why Bailey has been moaning. She started moaning Thursday night. I think she hurt herself the last time she jumped down from my bed–she hasn’t been asking to come up on the bed or the sofa. In fact, she’s been hiding under the bed a lot–especially if she thinks I’m about to pick her up. Thursday night she started doing little moans from under the bed. Not a “I’m really in pain” kinda moan, but a “I feel crappy and I’m sad because I’m lonesome” kinda moan. Every few minutes. Enough to rip your heart out. And she won’t let me do anything about it because she won’t come out from under the bed. I ended up sleeping most of the night on the sofa on Thursday, Friday and last night because I couldn’t stand to her her moan–it kills me and I can’t do anything about it. Of course I took her in to see Dr. B. first thing Friday morning (God bless Dr. B. and all good vets like her! She had a killer day on Friday and she made time for us!) Dr. B. checked everything out–she made sure there was no infection from the surgery or any other problems that might cause her to moan. We both concluded that she might still be in some pain and might even be a little depressed (yes, dogs get depressed just like humans sometimes do after surgery). So she gave Bailey a shot of some “narcotic” which made Bailey feel pretty good. Friday night the moaning was lessened, last night it was lessened even more–but still going on. At 4 AM a lightbulb went on over my head and I suddenly realized that she has not spent any time in her bed for the past few days. So I picked up her bed (a half-moon foam-walled thing with a fuzzy cover), and made up a bed for her with pillows on either side, a rolled up quilt along the back (along the foot of my bed), and a couple of “doggie blankets” on top of a thick sherpa-fur pad. I put a cookie (Iams, of course!) on top of it and she crawled right in. After I turned out the light I could hear her digging up the blankets to make a nest and she slept the rest of the night without a peep until around 8:30 this morning. Today, she seems more like her old self–the whole time I’ve been typing this she’s been in her “bed” under my desk (I’ve made the same changes to this bed as I did to the one at the foot of my bed) whining for cookies. She even tried to sneak into my mom’s room today in search of tissues! A good sign that she’s on the road to mending from the surgery.

7. I have an incredible circle of people supporting me. The vet techs and ladies behind the desk at Bigger Road have given me an endless supply of empathy and kindness. I have no words to express how much I’ve appreciated Dr. B’s support and help. I think I must work with some of the most caring and understanding people in the world–I had a long talk with Dr. Carey a couple of days ago (he has so many responsibilities within the company that I hate to take up his time, plus he was on vacation!). He really confirmed in my mind that I’m making the right decisions for Bailey. My cousins and aunts are so wonderful, and my neighbors have offered all sorts of kindness and support. I am truly blessed because I have all of these wonderful people in my life right now.

(Of course, there is a voice deep in my heart that says I would really be truly blessed if Bailey’s cancer would just go away. Yeah, like that’s gonna happen. I’m really gonna make an effort to live in today, and not think about what’s coming up in the future when she starts drinking lotsa water again. Omigosh. Did I just make a New Year’s Resolution?)

To anyone reading this: Merry Christmas. And, please God, let us all have as Happy a New Year as is possible.

Last night, I heard from Dr. Fulton who is the chemo specialist at Med-Vet. The conversation felt a little cold and clinical, but I guess you have to be when you’re a doctor who’s patients are all gonna die soon.

Here’s what she said:

With the surgery alone (Option #1), Bailey will probably live 5 to 6 months more. She feels that this is an aggressive cancer (which is not what I got from Dr. Prescott) because it was so small in the anal gland and yet spread to the lymph nodes.

Option #2 is radiation and chemo. Not gonna happen for my dog, so don’t even mention it. Option #3 is chemo.

Chemo is a drug therapy. It is given less frequently and in lower dosages than for people because the goals are slightly different. For people, they want to do everything they can to prolong life. For dogs, they want to do everything they can to maximize the quality of life for as long as possible. Because it’s in lower dosages, only 20% to 25% of dogs have mild flu symptoms which include nausea, vomiting, loose stools, and lack of appetite. These symptoms usually resolve themselves in 12 to 24 hours.

For Bichons, there is also hair loss–so Bailey would need a coat when it’s cold and a tee shirt to protect her from sun burn in the warm months. Because the chemo drug kills all rapidly dividing cells, there’s the possibility of anemia (it kills red blood cells) and immune problems (it kills white blood cells).

She told me about 3 chemo treatments:

1. An oral medicine called melphalan. She said the research on this med is anecdotal, so she is not really certain how good it is. The dog gets a pill once a day for 7 days, then is off for 3 weeks for the rest of the dog’s life. You pay $3 per pill plus the costs of blood tests to monitor the cancer. I could do this at home.

2. An intravenous cocktail made up of doxorubicin (or mitoxantrone) and carboplatin. Once every 3 weeks, for 6 to 8 dosages over between 18 to 24 weeks. This has been shown to be most successful in anal sack carcinomas. It costs between $250 and $300 a cocktail. This would probably have to be done at Med Vet.

3. Immunotherapy–where you try to turn the dog’s immune system on against the cancer. This is done with something called piroxicam which is an NSAID. Side effects are mild–although it might cause ulcers because it is a cox 2 inhibiter so the dog also takes an OTC ulcer drug like Pepsid. It could cause liver or kidney problems. This drug is not intended for cancer therapy, but has been shown to work (they don’t know why). She would stay on it for 6 to 10 months and it would cost approximately $60 a month for the pills. I could do this at home.

THE DOWN SIDE: All of these drugs have only a 50-50 chance of even WORKING! Half the dogs who do chemo have NO CHANCE OF IMPROVEMENT WHAT SO EVER! And the half that do have improvement live for 2 to 3 years.

I’m still not 100% sure what’s the right thing to do, but I think the door is closing on chemo.

On Saturday, we went to Dr. B. for a blood test to see if Bailey’s calcium levels had been reduced. I just heard from Dr. B–Bailey’s calcium levels are back to normal!! This is good news because it means the cancer is not big enough right now to generate enough of the hormone that brings her calcium levels up. (OK, I realize that this is not a very scientific explanation, but I’m not a doctor. I’m only a very worried mom. Trust me–this is a good thing).

Had our family Christmas on Sunday. Feels weird to be essentially done with Christmas by December 18. Bailey was her usual snotty self–into everything and under everyone’s feet like she’s bouncing back to normal. I finally confined her to the bedroom because she was just too energized. She took a power-nap–slept soundly for about an hour which is very unusual when we have a house-full of people.

Today is the 2 week anniversary of her surgery–and the only outside indication is her funky hairstyle. I have to remember to lift her onto the sofa or my bed–and also to lift her off. She jumped off the bed this morning before I could stop her and let out a yelp. I know she hurt herself, and I know she hasn’t a clue WHY it hurts. She looked so scared and lost in her bed afterwards, it devastates me.

I’m waiting now to hear from the chemo doc. I think the worst part of this whole thing is having to wait in ignorance instead of being able to make plans and know what to expect.

Today we trekked back to Columbus to get Bailey’s stitches out and to meet with the radiologist. Dr. Prescott has amazing credentials–she’s like the top dog of radiology in the three closest states.

For maximum tumor control, we have “Full Course Radiation Therapy.” This is one radiation treatment a day, Monday through Friday for 4 weeks (19 total treatments). The side effects include a “weepy” wound on her butt, sorta like a hot spot but more painful, which shows up approximately 3 weeks into the therapy and lasts for approximately 4 weeks if it’s kept clean. If it gets dirty (remember this is on her butt right where the poop comes out) it could be a problem for a couple of months. Additionally, the part of her colon which would be in the way of the x-rays could be damaged which would mean it loses its elasticity and would kinda close up so she wouldn’t be able to poop normally. The cells lining the last part of her intestine would also be effected and she would probably have several weeks of bloody, possibly painful, diarrhea. Lastly, because Columbus is so far away, she would have to board at Med Vet while she’s having treatments and come home on the weekends. Dogs with cancer like Bailey’s have an average life of 2 years with this kind of treatment–but nothing is guaranteed. Can I put my dog through 2 to 3 months of hell with no guarantee?

Chemo is also an option–along with radiation or by itself. The chemo specialist is gonna call me for an over-the-phone consult early next week (she was gone to a funeral today) so we can discuss the side effects and the lack of guarantees.

If we let things go as they are–surgery alone–the pup will probably live somewhere between 3 months to a year. This is a slow growing cancer, and the high calcium levels that it creates will probably compromise her kidneys or her liver before the cancer has a chance to kill her. It’s recommended that we do blood tests every month as a way to monitor the cancer. We have an appointment tomorrow at Dr. B’s for a “threshold” blood test–to see if the calcium levels were lowered by the surgery (I think they must have been–her water-drinking is back to normal).

I’m totally freaked out about the radiation treatments. Bailey has such sensitive skin, she’s used to peace and quiet, she’s used to being at home with us. My heart cries out against punishing her for 8 to 12 weeks in order to buy her an extra year, if that.

Am I being selfish? When Bailey is suffering and uncomfortable, I’m a basket case. My concentration sucks, I’m depressed, it’s hard to get any work done. I’m not sure I have the strength to put myself through the suffering she would have with radiation treatments. I keep remembering my Uncle Ollie–he died of lung cancer. By the time they diagnosed it, he was so sick and tired that he decided it wasn’t worth going through radiation in order to live a couple extra years. He went into hospice and though I won’t say he died happy at least he died clean and comfortable–which is what he said he wanted. I want Bailey to be clean and comfortable.

I’m really starting to feel that a hospice approach might be the best thing to do, but I’m conflicted. Some days I feel like I’ve accepted the fact that somewhere a stop watch is running down my time with her. Some days I wonder if I’m in denial. Am I doing what’s best for her, or for myself?

And since Monday she’s been sneezing off and on like crazy. Dr. Prescott the eminent oncologist said not to worry, it’s probably nothing. Of course, it might be a small tumor in her nasal passage unrelated to the one that was in her butt. And it would be inoperable because of it’s location. More good news.