Regular Life

Shannon and Lexie, circa March, 1993.

She’s been with us 13 years, but only a miracle could make it 14.

Monday afternoon at about 2 p.m., my wife noticed that Lexie appeared to be squatting to pee on the carpet. Despite the fact that she’s a cocker spaniel, this is something Lexie just does not do. Concerned, Shannon helped her out the door and watched as our sweet old dog struggled to find her balance. The apparent squatting was merely her back legs trying to find solid ground.

After Shannon, Ben, and Lexie all napped a while, the dog awoke with the same symptoms. Shannon called the veterinarian, who said to bring her in. Nobody panicked at this point. Dizziness can result from ear infection, which cockers tend to develop, and Lexie had behaved this way the one time she contracted a tick disease (it was not Lyme disease). We had been to visit my parents recently, and their backyard out in the country had a tick problem. It could be either of those, and both were treatable, so Shannon soldiered on.

The vet saw involuntary movement in Lexie’s eyes and noticed some head tilt. She said her ears looked great, and the prognosis most likely was canine vestibular syndrome. It sounds much worse than it is.

Further examination revealed something unrelated that caused real concern. “There’s a large mass right here,” the vet said, touching a spot on the right side of Lexie’s belly. She drew blood for the lab and then scheduled a follow-up at 9 a.m. Tuesday for x-rays. Shannon and I were to go in at 4 p.m. for the results.

It all started coming together for us. She had not been eating immediately after we filled her bowl. I thought that was a result of our changing her to eating only once a day. Just this weekend, we felt a bump on her belly, but attributed it to her fatty tissue deposits. Shannon felt horrible, and despite my own guilty conscience, I tried to comfort her. Would we have known about it sooner if we had paid her more attention?

It turns out earlier detection would have made no difference.

When we returned to the vet, she shared the news, starting with the x-rays. Without a trained eye, we could see the huge tumor, like an oblong grapefuit inside her gut. The doctor indicated that it most likely is attached to her spleen, and is engorged with blood. She was leaning toward visceral hemangiosarcoma, but said the film was inconclusive, and to find out more we would have to put Lexie through a sonogram. That would tell the doctors the exact site of the tumor, but the oncologist would not know for sure whether it was malignant or benign. With this type of tumor, it’s very difficult for even a pathologist to say for certain one way or the other.

About 60-70% of splenic tumor patients she sends to that oncologist turn out to have cancer, she said. In one case she related to us, surgeons removed a tumor they believed to be benign, only to have the dog die six months later from cancer that had metasticized in its bones.

The sonogram and initial diagnosis alone are $500, and then the surgery runs about $1800. It might earn Lexie another month of life, or a year. Were it Ben, we would never ask about prices, but with pets it’s always different. We laid out about $350 Tuesday afternoon. She did not try to push us in any particular direction, and said that she and her colleagues could do the surgery themselves for about $800. That carried much additional risk, she said, because they do not possess the same expertise as an oncologist. In the event it is cancerous, chemotherapy and radiation are available, but we know for sure that, regardless of the money, we would not put Lexie through it, especially considering that she is 13.

The vet told us that she took all those measures attempting to save her 5-year-old retriever, and that even with her professional discounts it cost her $10,000, only to lose her family’s dear friend within six months.

Some part of me thought, If the most we can give her is one year, I would rather we let the vet give it a shot here, and having Lexie die unconscious on the table is better than having her suffer through a tumor rupture.

Then the sonogram came back into my mind. At least with that, we give Lexie the best shot at some time to enjoy the tasty foods and treats that all her life we have kept from her.

A much bleaker picture came from a web site Shannon found Tuesday night. Other sites supported its claims.

Median survival time after surgery alone is reported to be 2-3 months, with the addition of chemotherapy increasing the median survival time to 4-6 months.
caninecancerawareness.org

Now we’re even more torn about what to do. It all sounds hopeless. We’re not morally opposed to euthanasia, and have seen family and friends let pets go on suffering much longer than we would have. It just seems like such a drastic step for a dog that is otherwise remarkably healthy for her age and breed.

The one hope we have is that Lexie is in that lucky 20-30%, and they can remove her spleen and the tumor without complication. Still, even a full recovery at her age would not guarantee her another year of life.

The best thing about all this? My wife summed it up well just before she turned in for the evening.

“She has no idea,” she said, and then lifted Lexie, sound asleep, to carry her to her doggie bed.

Lexie will be getting a lot of pampering from now on. If anyone knows of an amazing dog treat, then please let me know what it is. We used to give her rawhide chewsticks, but those fell by the wayside soon after Ben’s birth. We have watched her weight for her all her life, so she deserves a little decadence.

Update:

Just now, as I walked through our dark bedroom toward the master bath, my foot felt something soft. I flipped on the bathroom light, and there on the bedroom floor, the comforter pulled over her, was Shannon. Nestled in the space behind her bent knees was Lexie, sweetly oblivious to her fate.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I just love her so much,” Shannon said.

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