So we’ve been going through a thing here for a week or two, and I was tempted at times to post one of those Facebook posts asking for “thoughts and prayers” for Daisy, but I never did. I think I wasn’t willing to open myself up to the possibility that this might not end well, until last night I was saying a prayer of thanks for how it all turned out, and the wave of relief broke me down in tears.
Daisy is a lumpy old gal. She’s 15 years old, but she’ll always be my baby girl. Over the years she’s developed lumps and bumps, and I’ve told myself (and the veterinarians have confirmed my beliefs. Well, not in so many words, but I knew what they meant) that she was so full of love, it needed other places to go.
But this one spot was different. It was on her chest/belly, and it was clearly getting bigger. Also, her hair all fell out of it as it grew. And it was always warm to the touch. I knew in my gut this was a different lump. Yet I kind of ignored it, until she suddenly developed a bloody nose that wouldn’t stop for days. I took her to the vet, mostly for the bloody nose, and nonchalantly asked the vet to look at the lump. We decided to run a few tests to try to get to the bottom of the nose bleed and the lump. (The nose bleed stopped as quickly as it came. Then I witnessed Daisy bonk her face on the wall getting off the bed and wondered if something like that had been the cause of the nose bleed all along.)
Anyhow, tests came back to show that this lump was a mast cell tumor, which may or may not be cancerous. So, you know, could be nothing, could be death. The only way to know for sure was surgery to remove it, then send it off for further testing. Cost of this surgery? $1100. I asked for time to think about it.
Ultimately, my choice was made because of two thoughts that popped into my head that evening. The first was, Tucker, my previous dog, died at the young age of 10 from cancer, but not before we put up a valiant, time consuming, and expensive fight. Now, that happened right at the time my marriage fell apart and I ultimately got a divorce. And Tucker was kind of all that was keeping me together. Also, he was young, and very happy, and loved life. I honestly don’t even know how much I spent on his chemo and radiation, because I didn’t care one bit. I just did it, and I turned over the credit card for each treatment, and I paid as much as I could each time the bill came, and it didn’t matter what it cost. I never even added it all up.
And you know what? I never regretted it. EVER. I still don’t 16 years later. I did exactly the right thing for Tucker, and for me, at that time in my life. And when it was clear the treatment wasn’t helping anymore and it all became too much for him, and for me, I stopped, and he passed away in his sleep curled up next to me.
The second thought that came to me that evening was about my mother. She died of cervical cancer, which is something nobody should die of. Ever. Not just because nobody “should” die of cancer, but because it’s 100% curable if caught early enough. When she was diagnosed at “stage 0,” a simple, in office procedure could have removed it. And she’d still be with me today.
Even three years later, at the very late stage she told me about hers and chose to do something about it, it was still almost 100% curable, IF she’d followed the doctor’s advice. Which she didn’t.
Now, that was her choice. Every step of the way, it was her choice, and I did all I could to support her in her choice. Did I wish she’d do the treatment? Absolutely. Did I tell her? Yes, the one time she asked my opinion. By the time it was MY choice what treatment Mom received, it was too late.
I miss her every day, and I’d give anything to have her back. I’d give anything if she’d followed the medical advice she was given, and if she were alive today, living with me in Columbia, celebrating my career successes and my personal triumphs, listening to my relationship woes, and sharing in the joy of finally finding my person.
So, I knew I had to decide to do the surgery for Daisy. I had to do what I could to make her life as long and as healthy as it could be. This lump could have been nothing. And I’d know that now. It could have been late stage cancer that might or might not be curable with expensive treatments. And I’d know that now.
What I do, in fact, know now is that it was cancer. And they got it all. And it’s GONE. And it cost more like $2100. And I 100% did the right thing.
My baby girl is super unhappy about wearing this cone. So much that she’s taken to ramming it into walls, doorways, furniture, and me. But she gets her stitches out Monday, and I’m unbelievably grateful that I followed my intuition and my heart and that she’ll be with me for a while longer.
Cancer sucks. Wearing a cone sucks. And having my dog healthy and curled up beside me, even if she’s pissed off, is priceless.