I cannot be happier. We’ve dodged an expensive and intrusive bullet. And our stress level is low; yes!
Yesterday morning we brought him home with his cone and bulky blue bandage on his left hock. He was happy to see us; Oliver was happy to see him, and Beau whined all the way home.
He whined all day, except for a short walk we took, and Chris stepped up and petted/held/restrained/whatever it took to keep the confused dog comfortable.
We put his Thundershirt on (he loves that thing; it puts him in his Zen place every time) and he was a different dog. We removed the cone (a more complicated version than you can buy OTC) and he was so chill…whew. Whining done.
I went for a bike ride yesterday afternoon while Chris wrangled Beau; today I sent him off on the Shop Ride (he’ll be away for 4 days with no bike) and I caught up with some gardening and replanting projects that I’ve procrastinated. Beau wore his Thundershirt and was very calm. Oliver followed his lead, and there was no drama in my work or the dogs’ morning/afternoon.
Beau slept a lot, and that’s a good thing. Oliver was also subdued although he started a fence war with the new dogs. I broke that up; will not tolerate that.
Later in the afternoon Chris & I picked most of the oranges left on the tree — we filled 2-5 gallon buckets, and rendered one of them as juice — that was 5+ qts. We’re freezing most of them in our 3 silicone trays that are 6×1/2 cup; I’ll empty them into a Ziplok baggie tomorrow and freeze another 18 cubes. We also processed and juiced 2 pineapples. So pineapple/orange/banana/strawberry smoothies will happen this week.
Let’s see what Monday delivers. I’m prepared for it — are you?
I’m not laughting. Nor should you. This isn’t sarcasm; it’s about #homicide. http://ireport.cnn.com/docs/DOC-1224923
And it’s so wrong.
Tonight a friend of ours for nearly 40 years is lying in a hospital in Mississippi, dying of lung cancer that metastasized in his bones and lymph nodes. He’s maybe 64, he has adult children and grandchildren who won’t age with him.
My maternal grandmother died November, 1984, of stomach cancer. My dad died Dec. 26, 1984, of prostate cancer that metastasized in his bone marrow. In 1996 my mother died of complications of lung cancer. My great-aunt Eleanor died of breast cancer. My dear friend Georgia’s mother died of cancer, and it was a painful path we walked. Our first Schipperke died of cancer. My first broker, Claire, lost her husband Trevor to liver cancer. And more people than I can recall have valiantly fought cancer; some have won and many have lost.
The point is, there is no cure for cancer of any kind. One’s cancer can be in remission but it never goes away. My friends who are cancer survivors had their lives changed forever from the time they heard their diagnosis to present. Every time I get a mammogram I wonder and worry about the results. And then in the back of my mind I wonder if I’m really okay.
Today we spoke to our vet about a small lump she removed from Beauregard’s left hock on 3/6, when he got his teeth cleaning. She sent the very small mass to pathology, because she didn’t like its appearance. Today she told us it’s a Stage 2 soft-cell carcinoma.
We’re calling the canine oncologists at UC Davis first thing in the morning. My heart aches and I’m doing all I can to hang on to hope.
Updates to follow.