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.
