not off-feed or lethargic, but there's been something bugging him and I couldn't put my finger on it. Until Thursday night. He was getting a massage, when I felt a mass the size and firmness of a hard boiled egg, up inside his thigh muscle. Pressure on it was more painful to him than a regular muscle knot. I started to worry and worry. To alleviate my concern, I surfed the web for info. Not conducive to sleep... I stayed up all night researching, reading blogs on dogs undergoing radiation therapy. Ask me about mitotic indices and the use of vinblastine as a chemo drug.
First thing on Friday morning, I contacted Cole's physiotherapist and BFF.
Liz told us to come to the vet school, she'd find a way to get us seen ASAP. We arrived before 8. My desire was to have answers before the long weekend. The aspirate from the tumor was sent to pathology and I got the call that afternoon. What I felt in my gut was confirmed: Mast cell tumor. I live by lists and action plans, I had winging it and limbo. We've gotten some answers and are scheduled with the oncology department June 6th for staging. June 7th, Team Smith will have an attack plan.
The mere thoughts of having him undergo yet another surgery or the loss of my little soul mate send me into fits of sobbing. I've cried so much of the past 36 hours that I've had a wicked dehydration headache.
He's saved my life twice now, made it possible for me to have adventures and travel to places I'd never venture to go solo, given me calm when anxiety strangles me, shown me how unyielding love makes you wealthy even if you have not a penny in your pocket.
I've offered the gods seven years off my life to give him one more good year. No answer yet, no smoke signals, no contract, nothing.
Fine. We can do this.
