Watching The Walking Dead dressed in a shark costume. Zombies hate sharks.



I really hate being away from Sophie. Obviously the benefits of her being admitted for chemo are far greater than her just hanging out with me for a day but it still sucks none the less.

Soph arrived yesterday for her chemo treatment after what felt like forever. Her liver has been in rough shape from all of the steroids so it’s been an effort to get it back to normal. After a bunch of tests she was finally ready for her treatment. Her symptoms have been coming back; the circling, bumping into things and the occasional “what’s going on and where am I” episodes.

Of course, being the rascal that she is she ripped her catheter out during treatment and, since she’s such a wiggle worm, she needed to be sedated for the treatment to be complete. This dog loves costing me money and she’s worth every penny. Can’t wait until I see her come through the door!

1. When discussing how to handle post-chemo excrement:
Dr: “It’s toxic so you would want to make sure you wash you hands, don’t put it in your mouth…”
Me: “Ohhh, good thing you said something, I usually put it in my mouth. Haha.”

2. When asking how the tumor will eventually end Sophie’s life (morbid I know):
Me: “I know the tumor won’t grow so big it makes her head explode but…”

It’s safe to say I’m awkward around doctors.

It’s been around 6 or 7 weeks since Sophie’s last chemo treatment. My mother was nice enough to come down a few weeks ago to take Soph to her appointment. Work has been scarce so I have to take the hours when I can… chemo bills don’t pay themselves. This appointment was pretty important since she was having her liver tested to see if it was strong enough to get chemo. Her levels have been ridiculously high from the extended prednisone use and the chemo dose on top of that. The news wasn’t good. Her liver enzymes rose from the last time she was tested which meant 4 more weeks until she could be tested again. A normal, healthy liver tests around 100. Sophie’s was around 2,000. No bueno. If that wasn’t bad enough, they wanted to give her an ultrasound to make she her liver wasn’t looking out of the ordinary. Poor thing had to be shaved again. She still hasn’t grown her hair back from when she was in radiation. Now her stomach is hairless just in time for winter. The shave was pretty crappy too. I was kind of hoping they would at least give her some cool lightening bolts but instead she’s stuck with a jagged line. Fast forward to last Tuesday and she was tested again. This time was a bit better, 827, but still too high to get chemo. Now we wait a little longer and enjoy all the sweaters we can while the weather is cold. We may also test out some dog pants. I’ll get back to you on that one.

We’re both here, alive and well. Things have been hectic and I haven’t been in the writing mood but I’ll post an update this week… promise. For now: Happy Halloween!

First, sorry I was gone.  No excuses, just laziness.

Every third Thursday of the month at the vet hospital there is a cancer support group.  I’ve attended one out of three so far with my absence mainly due to coincidental doctors’ visits for myself.  For awhile I found a sense of community on a support group website for dogs with GME, which is what we thought Sophie had originally. I figured going to support group meetings would feel the same.  I would feel as though I am not alone, people know what it’s like and it would be a good thing. I sat at my first group meeting meekly in my seat staring at the Dunkin munchkins on the table. Everyone went around the table and said our names and our brief story. The woman next to me broke down.  Her dog was being seen at that moment and she wasn’t sure if her dog had cancer and could not stop crying.  He was older, maybe 8 or 9.  That seemed to be the consensus. Next person’s dog was 11, the person after that, 12 (and had just passed) and the next was 9. Mine, just turned 4. Don’t get me wrong, cancer sucks and is unfair at any age and don’t take what I’m about to say the wrong way. I had a hard time relating. I had a hard time not being angry… not at them, at the situation.  Here we are,  all upset but these people had their dogs’ entire lives. They saw their dogs grow old. They had all of that time. My dog will be lucky to see her fifth birthday. It’s hard not to be mad about it.  It’s unfair.  I sat there as the oddball out. My little dog, my baby dog is getting the short end of the stick. I left feeling uneasy.  It felt good to hear people say I’m a good “mom” and that I’m doing what I can.  I drove home in silence.  I wanted to process my thoughts.  I felt like I should have gotten more out of it.  I guess in my mind I was expecting to feel like I was not alone and in fact, felt more alone than ever. It may have been too soon for me and my wounds too fresh.  Sophie was midway through radiation (now complete) and on my roller-coaster of dealing with cancer emotions, I was at a low point.  I’ll give it another try in October. Now realizing that regardless of age, we are connected by this stupid disease. I’ll try to take the group for what it is… support.