Thanksgiving 2013

Is it really almost the end of 2013?  This is insane.  I mean really.

Anyhoo, I've been told by more than one person (ok, it's been a whole two people) that I should blog more often.  It's probably because I'm so witty.  Or something.  And while I promise that not all of my posts will be about my dog, this one is.

So, as many of you know, our sweet boy Truman has had some ups and downs the past month and a half.  It all started with that vomiting and loss of appetite and led to ultrasounds, biopsies, and eventually surgery where he had his spleen removed and they tested everything.  Imagine our surprise when we learned that all of his tests came back negative- no cancer.  We were relieved, excited, beyond happy, and so ready for our guy to be back to his normal self once he recovered fully from surgery.  

Everything was great for about a week.  Then, he started vomiting again.  And he started eating grass again.  It didn't make sense to us.  At his two-week followup to have his staples removed, his new vet noticed some new masses that weren't in the same spot as his old masses.  (As a side note, we had a vet in Columbia but they were rude, condescending, and just overall exceptionally uninterested in animals.  Obviously, as a vet, that was concerning.  Truman's first vet was a vet in St. Louis, who has been working with us.  He owns Berners, and is familiar with them.  We also now have a local vet in Ashland, and we have been very impressed with their service and care).  So, after some run-around over the past few weeks, we learned yesterday that the lab who tested Truman's spleen and lymph nodes somehow screwed up his tests.  Yes.  I'm not making this up.  I too don't know how this happens.  But it did.  And the worst part?  Our boy does have cancer.  Lymphosarcoma to be exact.  The prognosis isn't good.  Typically, dogs with the diagnosis have about three months if left untreated.  We don't know how long this has been growing in Truman, but at this point, we kind of assume he's living on borrowed time.  

We insisted the lab retest ALL of Truman's samples, so we're waiting to hear back to see how much it has spread.  There are chemo options, but Scott and I are very wary of that because it only prolongs life for an additional six months to a year, if that.  Also, chemo is a mixed bag for dogs.  Some sources say it's not painful, but other dogs don't react well to it.  We obviously want whatever time Truman has left to be happy and as comfortable as possible, not filled with vet appointments.

Obviously, we're again devastated.  This has been a ridiculous roller coaster, and at this point I'm kind of tired to the ride.  I'll be honest though, I wasn't necessarily surprised when we found out yesterday.  We knew SOMETHING was wrong, because he wasn't fixed.  So, here we are.  Our dude, at not even six years old, is dying.  It sucks to say that.  

This Thanksgiving, I'm grateful for the time I've had with Truman.  He was the first dog that I had as an adult, the first dog that was completely the responsibility of Scott and me.  No parents to bail me out.  I take great pride in being his doggy mom, as I know Scott does to be his doggy dad.  We love him.  He's more than our dog.  We always talked about how Truman and Cherry would be our future baby's first dogs, and I always pictured Truman napping with the kids, and Truman rides.  He makes an excellent horse.  

Next time, I'll try to have something more cheerful to discuss.

Our Guy

No, your eyes aren't deceiving you.  I'm back.  I've thought about getting back into the blogging game for a while now.  If it is even a game.  Blogging business?  I don't know.  See, this is what happens when I just start typing without forming coherent thoughts first.  Regardless, here we go.  Full-steam ahead.

Unfortunately, I'm kind of posting for less than ideal reasons.  I've talked to some people about it, but I feel like the whole story deserves more than just a Facebook status update.  I shall try to get through it without crying.  But I suppose none of you would know that I am crying.  So, that's something.

As many of you know (because I'm that annoying pet mom), we have a beautiful Bernese Mountain Dog named Truman.  Truman has been our guy since he was a puppy.  Well, I should say he was Scott's guy from day one.  Scott got him when he was about eight weeks old, and he was there for those late puppy nights where he whined and whined.  Scott was there to let him out every two hours because he couldn't hold it much longer than that.  And Scott was there for all the first walks, first park visits, first injury (it was a broken bone in his paw), and so on.  Then I came along and Truman quickly became our dog.  Evie, Truman, Scott, and I made up the original dysfunctional law school family.  Along the way we added in Shelby and of course Cherry (I'm sure even people who don't know me know Cherry.  She's that much of a hot mess).  But Truman was first.  He is the oldest of our fur babies, but even so he's just shy of six.  Still a baby to us!  To call him our dog- I don't really feel like that does him justice.  He's part of our family, and I love him so much.  Scott and I both do.  And Cherry adores him.

Last Monday, I noticed that Truman was a bit down.  He wasn't really eating, was kind of lazy, and he had vomited a few times.  We thought it was a typical stomach bug, so we made sure he was drinking water and just thought we'd give him a few days.  A few days passed and he wasn't really getting better, so last Thursday Scott took him to the vet.  I couldn't go because of work stuff.  I was thinking we'd just get some antibiotics or something and we'd be good to go.  When I got home Thursday night, I found out I was dead wrong.  The vet had scheduled an ultrasound with a different vet because there were things going on that she couldn't figure out.  But, it became clear that we wouldn't just be good to go with some meds.

Friday came, and we had the ultrasound.  That vet pointed out some masses in Truman's abdomen, and another in his spleen.  They did a biopsy, and we don't know those results until this week.  But, after discussion with our vet about his symptoms, and what we know about Truman's breed, all signs point to a late stage cancer that is common in Bernese Mountain Dogs.  It's an aggressive cancer, and there is no treatment.  It acts quickly, and typically when dogs are diagnosed, the timeline is weeks, if that.  As for Truman, he's had his ups and downs.  This morning was very rough, and we weren't sure he would make it.  He still struggles to eat because he can't really digest his food very well, and he doesn't really want to do anything but lie down and rest.

It's beyond heartbreaking.  To say that Scott and I are devastated is an understatement.  We want nothing but the best for him, and we're so helpless right now.  Even with everything, he still manages to greet us at the door when we get home, and he wags his tail when we walk by, and he's generally still his happy self.  But his energy is fleeting.  It's so hard to remember what he used to be, and to see it all change in what feels like the flip of a switch.  Last week at this time we had no idea this would happen.  Not even the slightest hint that something was wrong.  And now it's all changed.

We will get the biopsy results this week, but given everything we know, no one is sure what else it could be but some form of cancer.  Regardless, he's not ok and his condition is not improving.  Scott and I are trying to brace and prepare ourselves for the likelihood that our days with our boy are running out.  As devastating as it is to even think like that, we both agree that we can't see him suffer for our own selfish desire to have him around.  Sometimes, he doesn't seem like he's in pain.  Other times, I wish I could take everything he's feeling so he wouldn't have to.

Basically, our goal now is to make sure whatever time we do have with him is filled with love and with us making sure he's as comfortable as he can be.  We know our time is short, and as much as it is physically painful to think about, we are trying to prepare ourselves.  There is so much to think about.  So much that was second nature that will change when he is gone.  And of course, we worry about how Cherry will handle being alone.  Truman has been her brother since day one.  When we brought her home, she was 15lbs and this giant 110lb dog became her best friend.  I think she senses something is happening, because she's very attentive to Truman, and she follows me everywhere I go in the house.  She also puts her paw on me when she catches me crying.  I can't hide from her, she's too damn good at seeking.  There have been many tears since Thursday, and I'm sure there will be more.

If anyone has a hankerin', you can send thoughts our way that Truman can be at peace, and thoughts for Scott because as much as it hurts for me, my heart hurts for my love because there's nothing I can do to make him feel better either.

In the mean time, I'm going to put on a brave face and try to not cry in front Truman.  I want whatever time left to be happy and filled with anything he wants.

Sorry for the downer post, but we wanted people to have an idea about what's going on.  We will keep you guys updated when we hear more.  Love you friends.