Greyhounds Make Greyt Pets
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February 6, 2003. Oatmeal and I meet with a surgeon and radiologist at a sister hospital. They review the x-rays, confirm the likely diagnosis, and offer treatment options. Everything the surgeon tells me echoes what my research and the vets at my hospital have told me. We apply a pain patch and schedule surgery for the following morning, then head out for one final four-legged walk/run on the beach. Oatmeal runs with no limp on all four legs (thanks to her Rimadyl). She sleeps like a baby in my arms all night while I stay awake and weep over my choice to alter her beautiful body. I always thought that someday her ashes would be combined with mine, and it seems wrong to discard the leg. That's just one of the crazy thoughts that occupy my mind while she sleeps. It occurs to me that this was her second amputation; she lost her tail and was forced to retire eight years ago. It is clearly time to focus on her spirit and not her physical form. Maybe I need to rethink ashes. Not today. February 7, 2003. I drop Oatmeal at VCA South Shore Animal Hospital in Weymouth, Mass., and proceed to my office at VCA Wakefield. It is hard to focus at work, so I busy myself with paperwork and routine tasks. Midday Dr. Rousseau hears Oatmeal is out of surgery but still asleep. Mid-afternoon her surgeon (Dr. Diamond) calls to say she did well. I ask if I can I bring her home today. He cautions against it but says I may visit and be the judge based on how she's doing. Six inches of snow fall that afternoon, and the roads are horrible. A call to the hospital tells me she is heavily sedated and sleeping, so it seems crazy to brave the snow to confirm she is asleep. The last thing I want is to wake her up and then leave her. February 8, 2003. My friend Michael McCann offers to drive me to the hospital to pick up Oatmeal with his van so I can sit on the cushy floor with her on the way home. When she sees us in the lobby, she practically runs to greet us. It is amazing to see her personality so very intact. I don't know what I expected, but I didn't expect her to be so immediately "Oatmeal" when she was so obviously altered physically and mentally with her pain medications.
February 9, 2003. I have kept a t-shirt on Oatmeal so she can't "clean" her wound. When changing the shirt, I see there has been a lot of bruising and worry about internal bleeding. I mark the borders so I can see if it's getting worse. After several hours, I see she is fine and breath easy again.
February 19-21, 2003. Oatmeal begins eight hours of diuresis (heavy intravenous fluids) at the hospital to help prepare her kidneys for chemo tomorrow. She comes home with me and wakes me up for a rare midnight pee. In the morning, she has four more hours of diuresis, followed by two hours of cisplatin (50mg), followed by another four hours of diuresis. She has no appetite for dinner or breakfast, and her thirst and bladder are working overtime. After a third day of diuresis, she eats a small dinner of Ensure Plus and a turkey dog. There has been no vomiting nor diarrhea. We are going to get through this just fine. The next three weeks. Oatmeal discovers she loves Hill's n/d cancer diet. She is very interested in mealtime for the first time in her life. She relearns how to run on the beach and play bow, and she shows up early for dinner. Our sweet friends on the Circle of Grey List send Oatmeal her beautiful and cushy Healing Blanket, modeled by her below. The blanket works well. Here is Oatmeal's adoptive sister Timber using the "healed" Oatmeal for a pillow last week.
March 12-14, 2003. Chemo round two went well. Oatmeal is tired and has no appetite, but once again we've had no vomiting nor diarrhea. It took her about a week to have a normal appetite this time. April 9-24, 2003. Chemo round three began and ended as expected 4/9-11. It took almost two weeks for Oatmeal to get back to her hungry self, but she is back to normal today (April 24). She now craves her "old" normal diet of high-quality kibble. For some reason the n/d diet is boring her since the last round of chemo. She seems to enjoy changing diets often, so I'm trying to accommodate the little princess. Longevity statistics are better on dogs that have five or six rounds of chemo post-amputation than for those that have fewer rounds. She will have at least one more round, and future decisions will be based on how long it takes her to bounce back. May 15-October 3, 2003. Chemo round four went well May 15. When we did bloodwork in June in preparation for round five, we found Oatmeal's kidneys had degenerated enough that we would risk losing a good quality of life to failing kidneys if we proceeded. Now that chemo is done, Oatmeal is back up to her normal weight. Her coat is beautiful, she jumps and play bows when her leash appears, and she is ravenous at mealtime. Dewey Beach, October 9-13, 2003. I moved these photos to their own page so this page would load faster for folks with slow connections. Oatmeal turned 12 on 1/1/04, and that shocks most people that meet her. She really looks and acts like a young dog, and she honestly looks as good or better today than pre-cancer. February 1, 2004 . . . some statistics. As I update this at Oatmeal's one-year anniversary, her lungs are still clear (x-rayed this week). Fifty percent of dogs in her situation (amputation and chemo) make it to one year, and almost 20% make it to two years. A precious tiny number go beyond. Of course, that's where I've set my sights, but I will continue to thank our lucky stars for each day. Praveen's Daisy made it 18 months. Stephanie's Cody made it three years. Carol Weinhold's Sophie made it an incredible 45 months. I am grateful for every day, and it helps so much that my "friends" (some I've met, some I have not) are there to offer support and their own experiences. Recurrence in Left Proximal Humerus February 13, 2004 . . . an update I wish I wasn't making. Oatmeal passed the one-year anniversary of her osteosarcoma diagnosis and amputation last week. After my initial happy update above, I’ve just gotten some terrible news. My wonderful friend Sandra made Oatmeal a beautiful quilt for Christmas. She included fabric photos of Oatmeal at Dewey with four legs and at Dewey with three legs. It is absolutely beautiful and I am so touched. Thanks to everyone for your wonderful support this past year. Please keep Oatmeal in your thoughts.February 21, 2004. Some things I have learned in the past week:
I ordered Oatmeal a beautiful urn this week, but I am hoping it stays empty for a good long time. There is no way to know if anything we are doing will extend her life, but it makes ME feel better to be doing something. :) March 10 and April 5, 2004. Our radiologist believes there has not been any significant change in Oatmeal's new tumor over the past couple months. It appears to be well-defined, a great trait if you've gotta have a tumor. It was not there in September, and we don't know how long it's been there. May 7, 2004. After 15 months with mostly success stories, Oatmeal's osteosarcoma has taken another downward turn. The new tumor had been stable for three months, but it has begun to eat away the edge of her bone in the past month. I posted a new photo on her x-ray page. I am very sad. However, we have an appointment to begin radiation therapy next Friday, and I hope to get few more quality months. Many of you have read my friend Sue Burkhard's words about the lessons of Time with her sweet Britty. I still have weeks -- maybe even months -- to share with my girl. Oatmeal doesn't know she is sick. Science tells me her time is running out, but I still have Time to play, Time to love, and Time to grieve with her in my arms. Oatmeal has been very whiney the past three weeks, and I now know she is beginning to be painful. The radiation should help alleviate her pain. I have discontinued her Artemisinin (see below), as the Whole Dog Journal article said not to give it for two months after radiation. Hug your hounds, and please say a prayer for my Oatmeal that she may live pain free for her remaining time and that it may be long enough for me to be ready when her Time comes. June 21, 2004. We did three radiation treatments at NEVOG, 5/14, 21, and 28. I took a photo of the radiation site, as I had heard that her fur would fall out afterwards and I wanted to include that in this journal. However, no change happened. She had a little spot shaved, and it looks about the same as it did at the beginning. The good news: it made the pain go away for now. The oncologist said some stuff that was new to me:
Because Oatmeal is already a tripod and putting all her weight on the leg with the tumor, I am hopeful that she'll let me know she's painful before the bone has a chance to break. Thanks to you all for your continued support. Today is the first day of summer. It's been 17 months, and Oatmeal and I are both feeling great. Recurrence in Right Proximal Femur and Lungs July 7, 2004. Oatmeal has been putting almost no weight on her right rear leg, and she seems to be taking a lot of spills lately. We x-ray her hips and find that her osteosarcoma has spread to an unusual spot: the proximal femur (that's the top of the back leg where it joins at the hip). We also find a large lung tumor. I consider euthanasia immediately, but Oatmeal still seems so bright. I decide to let her say goodbye to a few good friends and put her down on Monday (today is Wednesday). July 9, 2004. Yesterday, Oatmeal traveled to a hospital in Connecticut, where I needed to work for the day. She had a great time meeting new people and seemed fairly comfortable. She loved having me to herself all day (usually all the dogs go to work with me). I had a nice talk with a greyhound vet (Dr. Murphy) who does relief work there. She has lost greyhounds to osteosarcoma and was very supportive of the route we have chosen thus far. All the techs doted on Oatmeal. Today Oatmeal only ate half her breakfast and seemed to be wandering a lot. She asked to go back upstairs (where I now carry her) a couple times. Very unusual. She seemed fine when I put her in my bed, but I couldn't leave her there, as a fall could break her leg. I called Dr. Rousseau at home to see if he could meet us to let her go tonight or tomorrow. We agreed to meet at 2:30 tomorrow while the hospital was closed. I was hoping to avoid dealing with my staff, which may sound odd. But I am the hospital manager, and I am supposed to be strong. I put Oatmeal in an x-pen in the living room while I went to a 10 a.m. dentist appointment. I was afraid another dog might step on her. When I came home, she was standing up and looking at me as if to say, "well, what are you going to do?" When I let her out, she began going from room to room, lying down, and then getting back up. She tried the back yard. No room could make her comfortable. A little before noon, I called Dr. Rousseau back to see if he could meet me immediately, but he wasn't home. So I called another one of our wonderful vets, Dr. Sam Simonelli, and she was so kind. I told her we'd be there in half an hour, and she was ready. Oatmeal and I sat on the floor of my office, which is like home to her. She was on her healing blanket from the Circle of Grey, and I talked to her the entire time. She passed peacefully. I carried her out back, and I really wanted to handle her myself. But at some point Dr. Sam and Shannon, our head tech, began to help me bag her and bring her downstairs. The staff that I had wanted to avoid was so kind. There were many tears and hugs, and I feel so blessed to work with such a kind and compassionate crew. I did ask them not to send flowers, but rather a gift to the Morris Animal Foundation. It is way too quiet at home tonight, but there is a new, pain-free angel named Oatmeal. About three weeks later. I was paged to the treatment area, where I found the staff waiting for me. They presented me with a donation to Morris and a plaque to go under Oatmeal's photo in Exam Room 4. It reads, "In loving memory of Oatmeal Norton, 1992-2004, Her courage was an inspiration to us all." It's so nice to have a remembrance of her under the beautiful photo my friend Praveen took of her at a GreysLand Gathering. Christmas 2004. I have been dreading taking out the stockings this year. Silly as it sounds, my dogs and cats have stockings with their names embroidered. I didn't have one made for new-addition Mickey, because that would have made me think about the stocking that says "Oatmeal." But a funny thing happened this week. I hung up all the stockings on the mantle. There is a greyhound angel ornament that our friend Stephanie sent after Oatmeal's passing. I hung that angel on the same hook as Oatmeal's stocking, which also hangs almost directly under her urn and collar. And, instead of sad, it is beautiful. Oatmeal was so well loved by her fan club, and she OKed Mickey joining the pack. If sweet Mickey wasn't so perpetually confused, he would be honored to have his holiday treats arrive in a stocking named "Oatmeal." The photo of Oatmeal and I on the mantle was taken by my friend Judy on Dewey Beach in March 2004. ========================= Diet: Oatmeal gets a turkey meatball appetizer a few minutes before each meal (I buy these pre-cooked and frozen at the supermarket). Her morning meal is now two courses: 1) 1/2 can of Hill's n/d cancer diet (I find she gets bored and won't eat it consistently if I give her a whole can, and I only give a spoon at a time; she's not interested if I put down a whole glob); and 2) a can of Ensure Plus (350 nutrient-packed calories, and she lives for this "dessert"). [Note: A case of n/d is about $50; I am lucky to get a discount from my employer. Also, the Ensure Plus is not cheap, but our local chain drug store has a generic version that saves a couple dollars per case. I highly recommend it for keeping a little weight on those bony ribs; Oatmeal prefers the vanilla or butter pecan flavors.] Her evening meal is a whole can of n/d, a spoonful at a time. Supplements/meds. Oatmeal has a 3V Capsule (fur and skin care), 100 mg Rimadyl (for arthritis pain relief), and a vitamin e gel cap (skin care) each morning. She is also on a supplement I read about in Whole Dog Journal called Artemisinin (pronounced ar-tee-MISS-in-in). Artemisinin, an extract of sweet wormwood, has been shown to shrink tumors in some cancer dogs, and I am aware of at least two dogs that survived more than eight months with osteosarcoma and no amputation. I figure it can't hurt. If anyone would like the article faxed, you may email me a fax number. As mentioned above, the chemo drove Oatmeal into early stage kidney failure. So she also gets 500 ml of fluids (LRS) twice a week. Oatmeal's coat feels like a bunny, her eyes are bright, and she acts like a puppy. I want this disease eradicated. It found the most innocent victim possible when it chose my Oatmeal. No one makes it out alive from osteosarcoma, and we can help that to change. Please consider joining the fight at https://www.morrisanimalfoundation.org/donate/giving/memorial/?section=1,3. The Greyhound Project and many generous greyhound owners have donated about $170,000 to fight canine cancer through research in the past few years. THANK YOU from Oatmeal and every person who has ever loved or been loved by a cancer dog. With your help, we will change the fate of future victims. Would I do it again? I do not regret a thing, but I got everything at 75% off because I work at an animal hospital. If money is a concern, I wouldn't do it. There is no way to change the final outcome, but you may be able to buy some time. If your dog is too heavy for you to carry up and down stairs, I wouldn't do it. Oatmeal was only 50 pounds, but I could never carry my 75-pound Bear. If money is not a concern, go for it. Be prepared to spend $3-10,000 between surgery, chemo, and lab tests. Radiation was around $850 at NEVOG. The special diet and supplements add to that. Whatever decision you make, never look back. You love your dog, and he or she is lucky to have you. There is no shame in choosing not to treat an incurable disease. If you don't treat aggressively, do be sure to let her go before she is too painful. Osteosarcoma is a particularly painful form of cancer, and most dogs will eat and try to mask their pain until the very end. Don't ever think you may have let your dog go before it was really time.
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