Side Effects

No post yesterday.

Rough night last night. Everett has diarrhea, and she needed to go out almost every hour. The radiation literature said diarrhea is a possible side effect—I wonder if that means once she has it, it will return after every treatment? I took this picture a little after 5am this morning, during our umpteenth trip outside--it was still dark but she stood on the porch for so long her feet melted the snow on the deck and left lovely footprints.
This morning she ate—she was very interested in her food and that is always a good sign. Yesterday she was very lax about eating, so I am glad to see at least this small improvement in her. After eating we took a quick spin outside, where she was panting and shivering at the same time. I’ve no idea what that means, but she did crawl into bed under my desk where she now seems to be resting. I hope she is able to sleep—I know I didn’t sleep much last night and she probably did not either.

Goofy Eyes, Post Radiation

Another sign of spring! I am not sure if this is a crocus or not (we didn't live here last spring), but what else would be coming up so early? Located on the south side of the house, whatever this is has a sheltered home, evidenced by the lack of snow. All of the rest of the yard still has its snow pack.

Eve is home from today's zapping. Radiation only--vaccine/radiation combo will be next week. She appears to be feeling okay--she lead me on a nice little trot around the campus before we hopped into the car--she needed help climbing onto the floor of the backseat. In case I have not already mentioned this, she's climbing into an SUV, so even Ansel jumps to the floor, before he climbs onto the seat.

The dreaded x-rays (radiographs is what the detailed comments call them) were taken, and apparently show no bone lesions, but did show arthritis in both hips (left is worse than right). The A word is no surprise since she's had it in her shoulder for years (2003). What is so puzzling, then, is what was so painful last week. To quote the detailed comments exactly, "I am not certain why Everett had episode of weakness last week. Our hope is that this will not happen again." Amen, sister!

The tumor is not grey in color, but is certainly very smelly. The grey would be good news, as it represents the top layer of cells dying. Measurements today are 2cm x 1.5 x .5, which is almost identical to last week (2.3 x 1.2 x .4), but this is the first time since her surgery Jan. 15th that it has not increased in size. GREAT NEWS!! Let's hope it keeps shrinking.

So she is splattered on the floor, resting. Her eyes are closed but her expression tells me she isn't really sleeping--just covering her goofy eyes until I get up and leave the room, at which point she will then open her goofy eyes, to watch for my return. Her anesthesia cocktail was changed yet again, in the hopes that she will fully recover faster. She did eat at the hospital--I have not yet offered her food. Second week in a row of no pedicure--I guess her nails growth has slowed as she has aged. ;-)

Radiation Wednesday #3

Once again, here is Ansel in Everett's bed. Does this look even remotely comfortable? Look at his left back foot. He's done this his whole life--it is the equivalent of you and I sleeping with our wrist bent so far that our fingers are pointing at our elbow.

Dropped off the little girl this morning--she was SO excited to be in the car. I am hopeful this week she does not have as bad a reaction as last week, but I know the effects of radiation are cumulative. I am just hoping for the best.

I received the nicest card from my friend Mike yesterday. It was intended to make me laugh...I laughed so hard Eve came to see what was so funny. Thank you Mike--it was great!

More later, after the little girl is home.

Plays well with others...

...As long as she doesn't have to share! In case it is hard to see, Everett has three toys here--a nylabone, what remains of a tennis ball bone, and a rope. Two of these were confiscated from Ansel, who had only the Galileo, when I took this photo. Unfortunately the camera's battery died before Eve comandeered the Galileo also, leaving the poor goofy dog with no toys at all, while she hoarded these four. Ansel disappeared into his basket...Everett remains under the table with her stash. With such entertainment, who needs a television!

Jawrub, Anyone?

Everett was stiff and cautious in her moves this morning, so I thought a day of rest was in order. No excitement, very little playing, but several hours of sleeping in the sun. It was well above freezing this afternoon, and I put two dog beds out on the patio. Both Ansel and Everett, each in their own space, spent the day lounging there, watching the neighborhood and snoozing.

I saw little Eve do something new today. This evening, with her hind foot, she was gently rubbing her left jaw, and then inspecting said foot. I've seen both dogs do this before with their ears--Ansel especially when he had his ear infection. It seemed to be so pleasureable for him, as he'd groan the way you or I would at the start of a good backrub. Not a sound from Eve as she rubbed her jaw, but at least it did not seem to hurt her.

Peter and the Wolf?

This shot is a clip of a larger photo, so if you have really great resolution on your screen, it might look awful.

If you look closely, you can see the left side of her muzzle looks a bit puffier than the right side, but this is nothing compared to what it looked like two days ago. It seems to be worse in the mornings, maybe because she sleeps on it? I have no idea.

I also have no idea what her deal is, or was, but the damn dog seems to be just fine. Yes, she is old, yes, she has cancer, yes, her tumor is growing. And whatever was wrong with her the last two days (Thurs and Fri) appears to be gone. She seems as nimble as her attitude will allow, and today it seemed to allow quite a bit! Is it really possible this damn dog is going to be 14 in 7 days? In this photo, she is waiting for me to come from the garage into the yard and play with her. Well, really, she is waiting to see if we are going to go somewhere in the car, and if not, then the play in the yard is her second choice.

I am grateful she seems so much better. And yet, I am a bit angry, too. I am angry for feeling such a huge swing of emotions, from the pain of losing her to the simple joy of seeing her rise from her bed under her own power. I am angry because I feel like I've cried wolf. I thought she was on her death bed, and now I don't. I'll bet this is normal, and when she is gone I'll feel badly I ever had a cross word with her.

I am unclear how to explain this. I am happy to have her functioning. Shoot, I am happy to have her at all. And yet, I am also angry. That damn dog, I think, every time someone asks me how she is doing. Now what do I say? I guess, truthfully, she is having good days, and bad days, just like Jenny said she might.

Today was a great day. It was warm, sunny, and Everett seemed to feel better and better. Her breath still smells; her licks leave the same fetid odor on everything they touch. But her spirits are up, she's alert to her surroundings; she even had some barks for the mailman and a small tussle with Ansel over who knows what.

That damn dog. I shake my head at her. She's so cute. Smelly, but cute. I am so lucky to have her.

Sleeping Beauty is sound asleep

Well, now we know the answer to the pain question--yes. Last night, around midnight I awoke to Everett crying. She was trying to get up out of her bed, to no avail. I scrambled to her aid, but was unsure how to help her. We were finally successful by a combined effort: I sat facing her w/my right leg extended along her side. She braced her front legs against it and pushed herself backward (as though up to a sitting position) while I reached over her and forced my hands under her rib cage. So my arms were the crane to help her get her backend elevated, and when we were successful I was on my left knee hunched over her to one side (her right side, as she'd used my right leg for her prop). Once standing the nubby tail was wagging as usual, and she headed for the door. We went out, peed, and came back to bed. There was no chance I was going back to sleep, which is a good thing because she started crying about 30 minutes later, and we repeated the whole process (poop this time).

Now, when I say crying, I really mean it. I described to my friend Jenny that it sounded like a bird had been hit by a car--screeching its pain for all to hear. Normally when she wakes me up it's a whine or a few snuffles of the nose at the edge of the bed saying, "I need to go out, please." This was something completely different. Tied in to yesterday's obvious discomfort at the hospital?

So here I am, typical owner who is facing the death of a long-time friend, making excuses not to euthanize her. It might just be something temporary. It might be arthritis, which we know she has in her shoulder, so maybe just an increase in her current meds. It might be nothing at all, and maybe I had not heard her prior attempts to wake me, and she was getting desperate.

Her demeanor today was sluggish. The swelling in her face is almost gone--a stranger just meeting her would not even notice it. Her struggles to rise are more pronounced than I've ever seen--even before the arthitis in her shoulder was diagnosed in 2003. I am being completely honest--I do not have the strength to take her in to be euthanized today. I look at her sleeping so soundly here in this picture--probably her first real deep sleep today--and I am scared of making the wrong decision. Is she in pain? I think so. But it might just be over-stressed pain--yesterday was a REALLY long day! So...I am waiting. As I have on other days, I am going to help her do what she wants to do, at her own pace. This afternoon, she just wanted to sit in the sun! I don't feel strong enough to deny her that simple pleasure; at least not yet.

Allergic Reaction

Bad day today. Everett went in for an emergency visit to oncology. Her face was very swollen (by my standards at least) and after asking twice overnight to go outside, she was not able to get out of her bed this morning. When I asked her to, she tried…and collapsed. The tumor side of her face (left) looked chipmunk-like, which is to say much more swollen than yesterday. Her drool, laced with blood, dripped from her mouth despite her attempts to contain it.

We were seen by a technician, a visiting vet from Denmark, and the oncologist on call. The doctor today thinks she is having an allergic reaction to something, just as the doctor yesterday thought. There were two different variables in yesterday’s cocktail of drugs: her anesthesia blend was new, and yesterday was the first time she received both her radiation treatment, as well as the melanoma vaccine. Both vets said, allergic reactions may take time to show up, as anyone allergic to bees or perhaps shellfish may know. So she poked and prodded Everett’s mouth, face, head, and chest, with no apparent reaction from Eve. Eve even distributed some licks.

I gave as much information as I could about our rough morning, including Everett’s difficulty rising from her bed. Everett was lying on the floor by my chair while I spoke, and the doctor moved to Eve’s rear, and felt along her spine and down her legs. She stretched and bent the rear legs; Eve didn’t seem to pay attention. Doctor moved back up to Eve’s spine and retraced her fingers along the backbone, and all of a sudden Everett whipped her head around, flews raised, and gave a HUGE warning growl. It was so unexpected that we all jumped.

So this changes things a bit. The tech checked—the CT scan Eve had during her planning session three weeks ago was head only (location of the tumor), not full body as I’d thought. Doctor suggested it’s possible the cancer has spread to Eve’s spine or hips or pelvic region…or it was just arthritis or a sore spot from something during her treatment yesterday. We’ve ordered x-rays for her next visit. The pain may explain Everett’s reluctance (inability) to get out of bed. Doctor prescribed antihistamines to combat the swelling in her face. We left.

She seems much more alert tonight—must be time for another antihistamine pill. The swelling has lessened, but I won’t say it has retreated. She seemed interested in water—stood over the bowl looking at it, but did not drink. I drenched her food to soften the kibble and she cleaned her bowl, so I know she’s had at least some liquid. She also ate some snow when we ventured to the back yard.

I am hopeful she sleeps soundly tonight. Selfishly, I hope she returns to “normal” soon, so I will feel better about choosing this treatment method. As always, I just want her to be pain-free.

Radiation Wednesday

I chose this photo to represent today, as perhaps a sign of spring. This is one of my least favorite trees, a silver maple, yet it appears to be showing leaf buds. The temperature was -14 when I took this during daybreak, after delivering Everett to the University for radiation treatment #2, as well as vaccine #2. This photo is supposed to represent hope.

It has been a very long day. Everett's treatment went well, however it appears she is having a bad after-effect. I received a good report when I paid for today's session, but as soon as the tech brought her to me I knew something was wrong. I asked the tech to check out her tumor area as it was noticeably swollen. She looked at it a bit, then excused herself and brought Everett back to the Oncology department.

In a few minutes the front desk paged me, and asked that I join Everett and the Oncology doctor in their department. I arrived at the right area, and the vet seemed largely non-plussed with the swelling. He suggested she might be having an allergic reaction, but it had already been about 6 hours since her treatment, and it did not seem likely. Everett's spirits were great--she actually jumped up on me and wiggled her rear end and stumpy tail like a dog a fraction her age. She was wide awake--not at all groggy like the last two appointments--and her jaw did not seem to bother her at all.

I took the doctor's advice and simply did nothing. He did offer a shot of benadryl, but my worried reaction was greatly calmed by his demeanor, and we left. We did take a VERY short walk on campus as the temp was 4 degrees (no clue to windchill), and the best news of all came when Everett jumped into the car all by herself.

When the excitement of being home wore off, however, her energy seemed to plummet. She has been resting most of the evening on the bed I placed in the kitchen. While she paid attention to my doggy dinner preparations, she made no attempt to eat and she's barely moved in the last few hours. To my discriminating eye, I think the swelling in her jaw is getting worse. The doctor said if it seemed that she needed immediate care to come back and their 24 hr service would see her. So now it is a waiting game...is she better...is she worse...do I take her in...and the never ending question...is she in pain? Is it time?

Portrait of Personality

Everett and her ball. You can just see part of the Galileo that she took from Ansel about 15 seconds before I took this photo--still the Alpha!

More snow...more cold

So, we received another few inches yesterday, followed by a 36 degree drop in temp and it is still going down. It is also snowing right now...though the wind is blowing so hard it's hard to tell what's new, and what's blowing from yesterday.

Everett has been doing alright--very calm, maybe too calm? It is so hard to tell what's affecting her--is it the cold? Is she overtired, because I've been playing with her too much? Is she just feeling off, because she is sick? I wish she could tell me....

We walk every day, but only as far as she wants to go. If it isn't far enough for Ansel, we drop off Eve and go out again. And last night was the first night that she did not wake me up to go outside every so often. I flew out of bed in the wee hours, thinking something had happened to her, but she was sound asleep, on her bed. And this morning, with the actual temp AND the windchill both below zero, she gave me the puppy stance, and did a circuit around the yard with me just once.

Two days until her next treatment--her first time having the vaccine and radiation the same day. The yucky smell from her mouth has not been worse, but it has also not gone away. There's no more obvious blood coming from her moth, and she chews her bone on both sides of her jaw--she wouldn't do that if it hurt, right?

Warm day

Nice day to be outside!

Happy Valentine's Day

It really is a dog's life, in this family!

While Everett is Away, Ansel will Play...

This is Ansel. He is sound asleep, in Everett's bed. That is a down comforter you see, both underneath him, as well as on top of him. His basket, which is where he spends most of his time, is just to the left--you can see the rim of it in the photo. Everett does not have a basket--she's too big. The doggy bed, not visible under the comforter, was an L.L. Bean gift from my sister, Koren, many years ago. It is an extra-large, and we thought it was big enough for two dogs to share. It is--unless one of those dogs happens to be Everett.

This is where Ansel spends his time, when Everett is otherwise occupied. I wonder if this is the equivalent of a younger sibling stealing into an older sibling's room, ignoring the, DO NOT ENTER sign on the door?

Everett's first radiation treatment today happened without complication. The list of possible side effects is daunting, but so far she has not displayed any of them. Since I have so little experience with cancer, I keep having to remind myself that the effects tend to be cumulative, so side effects may not present for several weeks, or of course not at all. We are hoping for the latter.

As feared, the visible tumor has doubled in size. The treatment went on as planned, and the staff seemed to think all of this was perfectly normal. I am relying on them for guidance...they are the experts! Everett is in good hands. It was my decision not to do the radical surgery--it is my stand that I am not looking to prolong Everett's life. I am only seeking to make her as comfortable as possible, with her remaining time, and the staff has been wonderful and supportive, to a person.

So when they brought her out, she was again very wobbly on her feet. As the tech gave me the full briefing, Eve slowly sagged to the floor, as though her body thought it was time to sleep and forgot to tell her head. But the instant the tech and I stood up, she was ready for the door, and trotted out as though she had all of her senses with her. We went for a very short walk on campus, and I literally had to laugh out loud--she set the pace; she went cantering along the sidewalk, but when we stopped to cross the street, her body again sagged to the ground. Typical Everett with two speeds--full-bore or off, and nothing in between! We had a few staff members, outside walking other patients or enjoying a mild weather (mid-20's today!) break, who paid attention to her speeds. One actually laughed, but only after he saw that I was laughing too.

She is bleeding from her mouth. I cannot tell if it is from the tumor, or just from all the poking/prodding. She is still swaying on her feet so I don't want to strap her down and pry her mouth open to look. I am hopeful this is normal; I am hopeful that the tumor just had it's first hit of radiation and it is saying, "whoah--this is no place to multiply; we need to exit stage left!" and all the rapidly multiplying cells acknowledge their defeat.

It is already snowing and we are to receive 3 - 5 inches overnight and into tomorrow. I may work from home and keep an eye on the Little Girl. I found a penny, Lincoln side up, when I stepped out of my car at the University--I am thinking good thoughts and hoping all the good luck in the penny will help Eve to a speedy recovery. There are going to be rabbits to chase tomorrow, slowed by the new snow!

'Twas the Night Before Radiation

It was warm (and light) enough for some outdoor Rope, and I am just heartsick that I screwed up this picture. Even missing most of her head, it is still hilarious, but perhaps only to me because my imagination fills in what is not framed--the sassy ears, the wiggling butt, and the sound effects. She is growling at me. Me! The deliverer of food, Stick, and Rope! Well, as documented in the previous post, she has never been a good retriever. She only chases down whatever you throw, and then taunts you with the treasure. Her voice is part of the taunting, as if the sound is going to warn me away...no way, Sister! That only works on Ansel, who is not present. Giving up the treasure was all part of her early training, before she was such a brute. Even now she'd give it to me immediately if I asked, because she knows her reward for obeying would be to receive it right back.

The University called this afternoon, to confirm tomorrow's radiation appointment. I had some questions ("I read I should cut back on carbs in her diet, as they may help the cancer cells' rapid growth...."), which the technician patiently answered ("Lots of information is available on the web, that may not have clinical proof supporting it") and it boiled down to keeping her routine (and her food) as close to normal as possible. The tech did make a note for the doctor to view the tumor and let me know if he thinks the radiation is just not going to help fast enough, at this stage. How can I look at this Rope playing face, at this dog who just does not give up, and even contemplate giving up on her?

...

We will fight this disease by playing stick, and rope, and teasing Ansel. We will go for our "runs" in the cold weather, and REAL runs when warmer weather arrives. We will eat our normal food, play our normal games, and if all goes well, we will live every day, to the last day.

Warmer weather brings out the stick in all of us

What a great night last night! I won't say that Everett slept straight through, but she was obviously resting more comfortably than she probably has in at least a week. I am not sure why I know this--I swear every time she moves I wake up and turn on the light to make sure she's okay. But when the alarm went off she was up and ready to go before me, nipping at Ansel to make him move faster so they could greet the day properly. She even did a few playful moves outside, before she was cognizant of the frigid moving air, and made a beeline for the door. And when it came time for the morning departure, they were both in their beds, waiting for the door to close and start their boring day in isolation.

I've often wondered what they do all day, while they wait to be released. Do they gossip? Does Ansel taunt and tease Everett, or vice versa? Do they make up games, the doggy equivalent of "I Spy...the Mailman"? Do they snore and drool and dream just like they do all night, twitching and yipping at those imaginary rabbits? When she was younger, Everett used to chew her nails--all of them. She chewed them so often, and diligently, that she went years without needing a pedicure. She may chew on them haphazardly now, but not enough to keep them uniformly trim...does she think about that at all, while she snoozes? "I might get my nails cut today--boy do I hate that nail trimmer. I hide every time I see it coming--even when it's not for me."

It was warm enough for some stick tonight--of course I am still User Challenged when it comes to pics in the dark but this one is not as bad as the rest. It gives you an idea of how Eve likes her sticks--the bigger the better. One time when she was still a puppy, probably some time in 1995, Eric came home from walking both dogs (Kechel, whom I have not yet introduced, and Everett), and swore she tried to pull a sapling out of the ground. I didn't see it but I completely believe it. When we lived near the water the best way to tire her out was to find the biggest stick possible (logs, some would call them), and heave it into the water. She'd swim out and bring it back every time. Her fascination with large branches was actually very helpful--she left a lot available for you to grab on to as she raced past you from the water's edge. Upon reflection that was very nice of her...and probably why, in later years, I thought to buy her soccer balls (kid size, #5, slightly deflated so she could get a tooth hold in the seams) when we moved away from the water. I could grab onto the long sticks as she sailed by, just like I could hit the large leather shape hanging out of her mouth. Tennis or raquet balls were out of the question--you could throw it once and sure she'd go get it, but she'd never bring it back to you. With the large sticks and the soccer balls, at least I had a fighting chance. And do you know, there were two dogs, so I bought two balls...and not once did Ansel ever get to play with 'his.' Everett commanded both--in fact the new game evolved into throwing one ball east...waiting for her to make the catch and pick it up, then garner her attention and throw the second ball west. She'd race after #2, and drop #1 in the process, far enough away from me that I had to hussle to go get it before she retrieved ball #2 and then raced back to steal ball #1 from me. Have you ever seen a dog stand guard over two soccer balls at once? She was pretty good at it. Such a silly dog.

Cold!

Very short outings today. The windchill is about 30 below zero--the little Cardinal is telling us it is 11 below actual. Good thing we are tired from yesterday!

Cancer update--the necrotic tissue has returned, causing bad breath and dire smelling licks. Everett has always been a big licker. I feel like a bad parent every time I cringe when she kisses me, and I remind myself that when she's gone, I will treasure ALL the time we had together. Smelly licks are better than no licks at all! So I wash my hands, or wipe my face/ankles/arm wherever her love has landed, and forget about the odor. I wonder if it is painful for her? With all the stick we played yesterday, I want to say her jaw is NOT hurtful, but she's doing a lot of half-yawning today, as though trying to clear the tumor from her mouth. She's also doing a lot of air-licking (like a dog that just had some peanut butter who keeps licking long after the gooey treat is gone), and I wonder if the lump in her mouth is uncomfortable, or just annoying. Three more days, until her first radiation treatment.

Cancer? What cancer?

For the User Challenged camera operator, this is the best action shot I have of this morning’s romp in the snow. Everett is running circles around the Goofy little dog, the snow is gently falling, and it is remarkably warm. So we were out a lot today, in an effort to tire the pups as much as possible before the real cold arrives. (this post is actually from Saturday, not Sunday)

TGIF!

Wow, is it hard to post every day during the week! Two days have gone by, since my last post. It’s been warm (anything above 10 degrees is fine for doggy feet) so we’ve spent a lot of evenings playing outside. Unfortunately photos in the dark don’t work as well (user error, I’m sure), so I’ve substituted a photo from 2003. My sister, Koren, took this picture of the three of us on Nantucket. You probably cannot tell, but I am wearing two jackets and the wind was blowing like mad…we are on the beach and IT WAS REALLY COLD! Now, in comparison to today, it really wasn’t that bad. But it was April, I think? Anyway, much colder than we’d expected. So this is probably the best pic I have of both Ansel and Everett. My sister sent me some really beautiful individual photos of each dog, too.

We played ball for a while last night, and she shredded what was left of one of her Christmas toys. All good signs, right? If her jaw was in too much pain, she wouldn’t be instigating games that involve chewing…or so I am hoping. So… we’ll go out for a “run” again this evening, in the hopes that both pups will be somewhat tired by the time the temp goes below zero and stays there. The actual temp won’t be that bad (that magic number of 10 degrees or so)—it’s the windchill that will REALLY put a damper on things. Sunday’s high is zero. We won’t be spending very much time outside, on Sunday. :-)

Planning Session and First Melanoma Vaccine

No post yesterday.

Everett spent today at the University, for her Radiation planning session. She had to be there before 7am and could not have breakfast, so I planned our morning such that she went for her car ride right after our morning "run", and before I fed Ansel. I called the medical center around 3pm, and learned she'd be ready for pick up at 3:30pm, so I rushed right over. The poor girl was awake, but very shaky on her feet. She'd undergone anesthesia to keep her still for her whole body CT scan, which apparently went very well. And though I am not certain how it was done, the tumor in her jaw was measured for the series of radiation applications, which start next week. She also received her first melanoma vaccine--one of four shots over the next 6 weeks. When I arrived at the center, the technician who brought her out to me was kind enough to get down on the floor with us, to let me know how Eve's day had been as well as answer my questions. While the groggy Eve stumbled around us, she started to pant and it became immediately obvious the tumor has grown still more--not at all surprising since we know it means business but seeing it's increased size is hard to take. I asked the technician to pass on to the doctor if he thought the radiation is even worthwhile, as the tumor will have another week's growth before it gets zapped. She gave me encouraging words, and we left. Today's weather cooperated for Eve--it reached 35 degrees and so the short walk to the car was no problem for my little stoic trooper.

For the first time in her life, Eve refused food when we reached the house. Even with Ansel present, whom she would normally shove out of the way to reach whatever was proffered, she had no interest in the soft chicken in my hand. Ansel ate it, and then cleaned the bowl of soft food I'd prepared for Everett. She sagged to the rug on the kitchen floor, and I sat in a chair nearby, within her sight. The technician had said she might refuse food--that she might even be groggy into tomorrow morning. But Everett not eat? I'd like to be objective, but I must also be realistic and prepare myself if this is a sign of what's to come.

The Cancer has Returned

I knew this, before I started the blog. In fact, the cancer is the main reason I started the blog. But still...to see it...I am so sad I am going to lose the Little Girl. Dogs don't live as long as people do...I knew I'd lose her some day...I just wish it wasn't to this awful disease.

In this photo, yes, she is sitting in the chair at the vet clinic this morning. If you look closely at her left jawline, you can see a red dot towards the back, a different color than her gums. That is the cancer, growing at a rapid clip. It won't kill her, but if I chose no treatment, it would eventually make chewing so painful that she'd stop eating. I won't let the cancer get that far, of course, but it is still so difficult to think even that small bump puts her in pain.

On the chair, at the vet clinic

"I am so DONE with my coffee and magazine--ready to go!" says the Little Girl. See the red tape, as well as the scar on her left front leg.

CBC and other liquid tests

Today we prepared Everett for her "radiation planning session" by sticking her for blood and other fluids. Like a pro, she made it through both withdrawals with flying colors (please note the pretty red tape on her leg). And true to form, while I was packing up for our departure from the hospital, she climbed onto the chairs in the reception area.

Many years ago, in a state far from here, Everett had a fatty mass removed from her left foreleg (see the scar on her leg just below the red tape). Because of the mass's location, we knew there would not be enough skin to close the wound. She'd have to wear a bandage for several weeks, possibly longer, while scar tissue developed to close the incision. The bandage would have to be changed weekly, and that meant many, many trips to the clinic. Massive drooling, hair loss, whining, and other signs of high stress accompanied EVERY visit to the vet, so we went to work on desensitizing her to the clinic before she had her surgery.

For I-don't-remember-how-long, every Saturday morning we'd pull into the parking lot just as the vet clinic opened, and sit in the reception area for an hour. I brought books. I talked to strangers. I admired cats and petted all kinds of dogs. I met another owner doing the same thing--therapy for the anxious pooch. And it worked. One week, she stopped pacing. Soon thereafter, she actually sniffed in the general direction of a nearby terrier. And finally one day, she climbed onto the pet friendly, slatted bench, and sat next to me. Now, that she was sitting at all was remarkable, but that she was sitting ON FURNITURE was an invention all her own--Everett is not allowed on any furniture, ever. But for this creativity, or was it an act of defiance?, she received a treat. Multiple treats. The staff, who'd been marking her progress over time--from neurotic mania to relative calm--with all kinds of encouragement, came from behind the counter to indulge her with doggie crackers and much praise. It was all delivered in quiet, low tones, with slow moving hands and gentle smiles, and she remained sitting. She ceased panting. She closed her mouth. Soon, she lay down. I won't say she actually closed her eyes and slept, but she was calm enough to survey the room without whining.

I still smile when I think of how those very boring, long hours paid off in spades for her. The necessary surgery went well, and her weekly bandage-changes were less traumatic. It still took 4 to 5 people to hold her down to remove/replace the dressing, but it was kisses for everyone both before and after. And in every vet office and boarding kennel reception area, she accomodates herself on the chairs provided.

Her radiation planning session is Tuesday. When she's sedated they'll do a CT scan, measure the tumor, clip her nails, and other preparatory things to give her the best odds of success. Okay so cutting her nails has nothing to do with preparing for her treatments, but it's still going to happen.

I am not excited for any of this, but I do feel hopeful that what we are doing is going to make her the most comfortable, for the longest amount of time. She's such a funny dog. Such a character. I am so fortunate to have met her, survived her, loved her. The Little Girl.

Her situation

Everett has cancer. She had an ugly, nasty, tumor removed from her lower jaw on Tuesday, Jan. 15, 2008. The doctor let me know when he called that afternoon, that her prognosis was not good, as the shape, color, and growth pattern indicated melanoma. Two days later the pathology results came back--malignant melanoma. We were referred to the University, and at the first available appointment (Jan.29), we learned that the tumor had returned. Already! In just two weeks, it was visible in her gum--a vengeful little bump the size of a pencil eraser. Her options: chemotherapy (low percent chance of impact), radical surgery (remove the section of her jawbone where the tumor was growing, including enough to hope all the malignant tentacles went with the saw), radiation (3 or 6 week schedules), a cancer vaccine (9 clinical trials on pooches with mixed results), and of course, do nothing.

I cried. A lot. They took x-rays of her lungs, and aspirated the lymph nodes in her neck, to see if the cancer had already spread. They sent us home, with a promise to call when the results came back on her lymph nodes.

Does anyone remember the weather that day? At 4:30pm, when we left the University, it was 2 degrees below zero, with a windchill reaching 30 below. We ran to the car, climbed inside, and sat in the frigid metal. The wind buffeted the car. It was unbelievably cold, there was no sun, and my Little Girl had cancer. I didn't know what to do.

Here she is!

So...the female with a male name. It goes back to the first day we saw her...but first, let's meet her.