Everything in Flux

The worst case scenario has come true. Indiana has cancer. Again.

Jim and I (and of course Indiana) successfully battled leiomyosarcoma--and it's still gone--only for Indiana to survive long enough to get another, completely different, type of cancer. While the first cancer was an extremely acute case that put her life immediately in danger, this cancer is different. Everything is different.

On Thursday, September 30, we were told that Indiana had a Stage 1 Soft-tissue Sarcoma. It's a small, quarter-sized tumor on just to the right of her spine, though not actually attached to any muscle. U of I wants to perform surgery within the next month, and four years ago we would have taken this option eagerly. But this time around, our course isn't so clear.

Indiana has a host of health problems, partly from being 12 years old, and partly from having gone through chemo four years ago (ironic, isn't it?). Though arthritis (from being old) is HER biggest complaint, kidney disease and a heart arrhythmia (from the chemo) are OUR biggest concerns. We worry that anaesthesia could put too much strain on her heart and kill her on the operating table. Or that it could screw up her kidneys even worse.

Typically, I'm not the kind of person who vacillates in making a decision. I'm strong-willed and opinionated. Even if I take some time to make a choice, I probably have a particular way I'm leaning in my mind. But not with this. I am absolutely, 100% torn. If I had to make a decision today (and thank goodness I don't), I would be lost. Because I AM lost. Indiana is telling me she still wants to fight. She feels great, and the light in her eyes gives me hope. But I can't let her die on an operating table, either. But how can I let an evil monster like cancer just grow on her body?

Jim and I have the beginnings of a plan. I've already made an appointment to see Indy's nephrologist (her kidney specialist--an amazing man), and today I'll be calling her cardiologist (also a wonderful guy), and making arrangements to get a second cardiology opinion. I've already spoken with our vet, Dr. Becker, who encouraged us to get as many opinions as possible, but she isn't necessarily pro-surgery, and I respect that. I'm not sure I am either. I am comforted that our plan involves a visit with Dr. Becker in three weeks, where the three of us will make a decision together. Hopefully before then, my heart and my brain will decide what we want to do.

I am so heartbroken about this, I don't even know what to do. In the last four years, I have made every conceivable change in Indy's life--the best food, the best doctors, the best supplements, the best proactive care--and still, she gets cancer again. I am going through three of the five stages of grief all at once--denial, depression, and anger. I don't want to hear, see, or think the word "God," because I am now convinced he doesn't exist. It's stupid, I guess, but I am tempted to avoid Facebook for all of the status posts my believer friends make referencing God. They really do make me a bit sick, because I can't believe he even exists, because if he does, he has absolutely forsaken me.

The denial part is my inability to really process this. I KNOW my dog has cancer, but I haven't really allowed myself to absorb that idea or really think about what it means, because to do so means to allow my soul and my spirit to be crushed yet again. It's been damaged so many times in this past year, I'm not sure it can handle it again. So that's why I'm depressed too. I was depressed before this diagnosis, and the cancer is really the icing on the cake.

I hate that I couldn't prevent Indy from getting cancer again, and I hate that I don't know how to help her. I am so lost, and so sad, yet I know I have to keep going, to fight for my precious baby. I have to remove myself from much of the "real" world, because honestly, I don't have enough left inside me to be able to fight this cancer and be a regular person. I hope all of my friends and associates will understand. I don't really have much of a choice. At least that is clear to me.