Things I've Learned From My Dog: Heartache

I am no stranger to heartache. Indiana's illness quickly indoctrinated me into that world. My own pain grew into the pain of others, as I met my online cancer friends and experienced their pain and eventual loss. That's been pretty consistent for me, though over time I have learned to better separate my pain from theirs.

Now I am experiencing yet another heartache. Our beloved cat, Mr. Squiggles, is missing. We came home from vacation Friday night, and we still haven't seen him. We had a sitter staying with him, and he takes great care of our boys. He feels tremendously guilty about this, but we don't blame him in the slightest. It could have happened while we were home.

But it didn't. I can't stop blaming myself for this. What was he thinking while we were gone? Did he miss us? Was he angry that we left? If he's dead, did he die knowing we weren't with him?

These thoughts haunt me. I should never have gone on vacation. I don't see how I can ever travel again. This was one of my worst fears, and it has come true. I was supposed to protect and care for my boy, and I failed.

Life feels very dark right now. Jim and I are taking care of each other, as we cannot care for ourselves. We still have hope that we'll find him, and we're doing everything we can to make that happen. We will not give up.

But in the quietest moments of the night, we are reminded that he is not here. He is out there, somewhere, missing. I hope and pray that he is alive and well, just not able to make it back right now. I won't give up on him.

It will be a long road for us, especially the longer he is gone. I won't be alone; I have my old friend heartache to keep me company.

I'm a guest at Happy Dog Land

Last month, our cancer foundation had the opportunity to work a dog event hosted by the city of Chicago. While I was there, I was introduced to Billy Rafferty and Jill Cahr, whose book, HAPPY DOG: Caring for Your Dog's Body, Mind, and Spirit, just became available this month. Billy and Jill also have a blog, and they invited me to do a guest blog post about animal cancer.

Please head over to Happy Dog Land to read my guest post as well as all of the information Billy and Jill have to share.

38 Months and Counting

My friend Shanele and I spent part of the day yesterday at the University of Illinois Small Animal Clinic for Indiana's twice-yearly appointment with oncology. I'm always a nervous wreck before these appointments. Even though Indiana is doing well, it seems like I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop. We had a lot of bad news in the beginning, so I know things don't always go smoothly. Still, I know my dog, and I know she doesn't have cancer anymore.

I can't say as though I ever look forward to going, but it's become a pretty regular part of our lives, and I'm used to it. I take comfort in knowing what's going to happen. So of course yesterday, they had to change things. Normally, we start our visit by being led back to the private oncology waiting room, complete with couches for parents and furry kids alike. We chill out for a while until an oncologist comes to see us. They do an exam there in the little waiting room, and Indiana is taken away for blood tests, ultrasound, and x-ray. Otherwise, we all get to wait together.

But yesterday starts with a tech (not one of our regular ones!) taking us to an exam room...not our couches. I mention this, and she only says we can go to the couches later. Hmmm. I don't like change. After a very formal check-in (we've been coming here for over 3 years!), she tells us the doctor will be in soon...and not our usual doctor. Strike two. The visit with the doctor goes fine--she's one we've seen before, though she's a full doctor, not our usual resident. She has me sign forms and ok the costs for the procedures, something we've not had to do since Indiana first got sick. Huh? What's going on here? Why are we in this alternate-universe U of I???

After all that oddness is over, we are finally led back to our precious couches. Oh, sweet, fluffy couches. How I love you. You are so normal. The rest of the visit goes by much like usual. We see a couple of students, rather than a resident, because the department is short-handed right now. Indiana doesn't seem to like the unfamiliar faces. We're used to all of our usual people, who don't seem to be around today. Bah!

Overall, I can't really complain, because everything came back great. There is no sign of the cancer, and Indiana's heart arrhythmia, while still present, hasn't gotten any worse. There are a few age-related changes, which the doctor considers normal. (I'm just happy to still have a dog who's able to grow old!) Indy's BUN is high, though her creatinine is normal, most likely from her raw food diet, or from one of her supplements. I'm not overly concerned about this--I left Dr. Becker a message about it, and we'll see if she wants to run a fasting BUN sometime.

I was a tad irritated, because the release report mentioned something the vet hadn't--Indiana's adrenals are mildly bilaterally enlarged, more so than last time. I'm concerned this indicates a progression of the atypical Cushing's Disease she was diagnosed with about a year and a half ago. We'll see what Dr. Becker has to say about it.

But none of these things really worries me. The cancer isn't back, and Indiana feels better than she has in a long time. After cancer, nothing is insurmountable, and neither of these problems is life-threatening as they stand. Just like everything else, Indiana will kick ass.