It seemed like weeks before Abby's first visit with the oncologist, though it was only 6 days after the biopsy came back. I was a wreck in the truest sense of the word. I cried constantly and when I wasn't crying I was devouring any and everything I could find about cancer. My Mom was so concerned that she decided she needed to make the trip to Raleigh with me.
We left early that morning and made the hour and a half trip down to N.C. State's Veterinary Cancer Center. Abby could tell something was up and it took her forever to lay down and sleep, when she's normally out like a light after the first 5 minutes. When we got there she really started to panic. I know part of it was her sensing my anxiety but the other part had to do with her figuring out real quick that we were at a vet's office and she hates vet's offices. My saving grace was the electric doors that slid open. I think those remind her of Petsmart, so she went right in, only to start tugging back for the exit once she figured out what was going on. After awhile we dropped her off and headed out. She was scheduled for a CT and further diagnostic testing that would take most of the day. Knowing I had to be distracted or I would go insane, my mom decided we'd grab lunch and then go see a movie. We ate at Quizno's and even though the have the best Chicken Carbonara sandwich in the world, I remember thinking how bland it tasted and how it normally was so good. In between the movies I smoked cigarette after cigarette. I had quit four months prior to this ordeal but as soon as I got the news the first thing I bought was a pack of cigarettes. I smoked way more while we were going through this than I smoked originally. We went to see Bad Teacher, and I kept hearing the audience erupt with laughter and thinking, "What's so funny? This isn't really funny.," though I'm sure it would've been had I been in the right mood.
Finally 4:00 rolled around and it was time to go back and get the results of all of Abby's tests. It started pouring down rain and the skies were dark and angry and I started getting a knot in my stomach, fearful that the clouds might be foreshadowing what was to happen.
The doctor called us back to a waiting room. It looked completely sterile and plain, like the kind of room you'd get bad news in. I felt myself tearing up before he even started talking.
At first he confirmed what we already knew. Abby's tumor was multilobular osteosarcoma. It was indeed attached to her upper left jaw. The location of the tumor was rare as it normally occurred on the bottom jaw. The cancer was unlikely to spread to other bones but there was about a 50% chance of it metastasizing to the lungs. In an ideal situation they would first take care of the tumor by removing it and then work to prevent the spread.
While we were still awaiting the results of the CT, the doctor said it was not likely that the tumor could be surgically removed due to the location. It was too large and growing close to crossing the midline, meaning there was a greater likely hood of any surgical alterations to break down. He felt that any surgery done couldn't remove it marginally and that there would be cancer cells left behind. Due to the aggressive nature of the surgery, he didn't seem to feel that Abby would ever return to the quality of life she had then. He said the median survival time for dogs who had the surgery, whose tumors were completely excised was 2 years.
He thought there was a possibility of doing surgery and then following up with radiation to kill the cells behind, but he felt Abby would most certainly lose her eye. She would have to have radiation daily for four weeks and stay in Raleigh during that time. He indicated that there would be alot of side effects from the radiation and that between the radiation and surgery there was a strong possibility she would need a feeding tube.
He did offer two more options, though he stressed that they would not cure Abby, only buy us more time. He said we could do palliative radiation do decrease the inflammation and pain associated with the tumor, and perhaps temporarily keep it from growing. He recommended giving her 2-3 treatments at a cost of $3200.
In addition to the radiation he recommended starting her on chemotherapy to keep the cancer from metastasizing. He said she may experience some side effects from this and that the average cost of each treatment would be $350. He said this coupled with the palliative radiation might buy us 4-6 months but he couldn't be sure.
While he couldn't be sure exactly what direction the tumor was growing in and what toll it would take on her, none of the outcomes were good. It could grow upwards, slowly pushing her eye out of her socket. Or, it could grow downwards and eventually rupture her pallate, creating a big whole in the roof of her mouth that would make it difficult or impossible to eat. There was a chance it could grow over towards her nasal passage causing her to have difficulty breathing. Or worse yet, it could grow back towards her brain, causing seizures or death. Anyway you looked at it, my baby girl was going to die, and sooner rather than later, unless we did something drastic.
I sobbed like a baby the whole time he was talking. I could hardly choke out words to ask questions. He said he would know more in a few days when he got the results of the CT back, but based on the Xrays and physical exam, he felt confident that what he'd told us probably wouldn't change.
I tried so hard to be strong for Abby when she came out. She has always been so in tune with my emotions, I knew she'd feel my despair. But I couldn't control it. My mom had to drive home so I just crawled in the backseat with Abby and held her and cried all the way home. I didn't even have to talk to my husband to know that he would not be for the aggressive surgery and radiation. I wasn't even sure I could talk him into the palliative radiation and chemo to ease her suffering. At this point I had no idea what to do, but I knew I couldn't imagine my life without her.
It felt as though my heart had been ripped into a thousand tiny pieces and I had no clue how they would ever become whole again.
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