We’re At the Hard Part Again
It may be a while before this blog is updated again. We’ve hit the hard part, again.
Smokey has been diagnosed with a tumor in his spleen. Knowing nothing else, the chances are 66% that it’s malignant and 44% that it’s a specific type of blood cancer, HEMANGIOSARCOMA. It’s highly malignant and spreads rapidly. Even with the most aggressive treatment, he would likely live another 6 months. For a dog for whom getting his nails trimmed is a traumatic event, we can not bring ourselves to put him through a blood transfusion, surgery, and chemotherapy, just to get a few more months, especially when we don’t know what his quality of life would be during those months.
You might try to tell me there’s hope, a 33% chance that its not even malignant. But that’s with knowing nothing else. In this case, Smokey has lost a significant amount of weight in the last month, most of it being muscle mass. In addition, he is anemic (hence the need for a blood transfusion before surgery), and shows signs of a secondary infection. Given this, the chances the tumor is not malignant are pretty close to nil. Nor do any of the other types of malignant tumors offer a better prognosis.
We have chosen to go with palliatative care, giving him medications to ease any stomach discomfort, treat the infection, and perhaps even help his appetite come back. He is not quite on bed rest, but we are under orders for there to no activity more strenuous than a short, slow, daily walk, and going outside to do his business.
If it is hemangiosarcoma, the tumor could burst at anytime. Otherwise, he probably has a few months to live. We will be monitoring his quality of life. As long as he is still getting joy from his daily walkies, eating at least a little, and not in any pain, we will continue to spoil him with love and attention.
In the way the world sucks, we always knew that we would loose Moree and Smokey within a short period of time. After all, Moree should have had a life expectancy of 15-16 years. Smokey should have been 12-13 years. Moree was 2 ½ years older. However, when we lost Moree 5 years too soon, it never occurred to us that we would loose our Smokey early, too.
One of my regrets with Moree was not having enough time to say goodbye. Now we have an unspecified amount of time. I don’t really know if its better. What I do know is that Smokey has been my angel, my superhero, and, as C said earlier today, perhaps the best dog we will ever own. Certainly he’s in the running for the sweetest dog ever to have lived.