We set up her appointment for the next week and in the meantime I continued to research. My drive to find a cure was momentarily lost and I started to resign myself to the fact that I would lose my baby girl. I cried constantly, even though I tried so hard to put on a brave face for Abby. Every time I looked at her I was reminded of how fleeting our time together was.
When I wasn't crying I was laying in the floor holding her. Sometimes I would bury my nose in her fur and breathe in deeply, hoping to memorize her musky dog scent forever. Since this all happened during the summer and I have summers off, I rarely left the house, feeling as though, I'd miss crucial time with her.
However, somehow I knew that before her next treatment there were still questions to ask so I gathered yet another list and contacted our oncologist. I first decided I needed to get a full idea of the cost and make sure there weren't any additional costs for overnight stays, extra medications, etc. We were also concerned because Abby suffers from pretty severe separation anxiety and we wanted to make sure that would be addressed. It turned out that we had to drop her off and then leave her for two nights, upon which she would receive 4 rounds of radiation and 2 rounds of chemo. We were to pick her up on the third day and take her home. I also found a list of questions online that proved to be helpful. Including:
How many dogs with this type of cancer have responded to these treatments?
What was the median added life expectancy for dogs with this type of cancer, assuming they responded for treatments?
What are the side effects these dogs experienced both most common and less common?
What type of chemo would be used? Would it be intralesional (injected right into tumor)?
What exactly was the goal of chemo?
I called my oncologist and got the answers to these questions and we decided to still go forward with the treatment. A week later I drove back down to Raleigh and dropped her off. By this point she had realized that she didn't like what went on at this place and I had to practically drag her in. And of course the doctors were running behind so I spent twenty minutes in the waiting room with her pacing back and forth. My heart broke the entire time and I fought back tears. While we were waiting I met a nice older lady there waiting to pick up her dog. She told me about her dog's journey and how he was in remission and there for a check up. Of course this only made me choke back tears harder. When she asked what Abby was there for I told her honestly, but I left out the part about treatments only buying her time. When they finally came for Abby, they had to literally drag her back and the whole time she looked at me, her big brown eyes frantic, begging me to take her home and I fell to pieces. Knowing that in the process we were losing two more precious days with her broke my heart.
The worst part of that day had come before we even got there. Since I was staying a few days, I decided to stay with a friend. Pat was working odd hours and so I decided to take Lucky as well. Before going to the cancer center, I had to drop Lucky off and so I let Abby come in and say hello too. My friend's have a Labrador named Blue, who Abby LOVES to play with and she bounded through the house soooo happy to see him. I hadn't seen her that excited in weeks. And I had to take her off and torture her with treatments.
Those few days went by slowly, especially since the doctors requested I didn't come visit because of her separation anxiety. During this time I also received the call about Lucky. I was so excited to go pick Abby up until I got there. Again a storm was brewing, dark clouds swirling through the air. It started pouring rain on the way there, and it was just starting to clear when I picked her up. Just like before it felt like a dark omen of what was to come. When they brought her out she was still groggy from the drugs and I wasn't prepared for what I saw. Half her face had been shaved and was covered in blue lines to show where they had aimed the radiation. She was missing patches of fur on her legs as well where IVs had keep drugs coursing through her system. Seeing her like this broke my heart all over again. The tears I thought were all dried up continued to flow. I felt lost, and hopeless, and literally like I was watching my child die slowly, though at the rate we were going, as slow as it seemed, it would all be over before we knew it.
Abby after her first treatments
Lucky after surgery on her foot
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