How do you tell your dog he has cancer?
My cell phone rings ten minutes before I am about to leave work. The vet doesn't waste time with much small talk before saying they received the results from Leo's biopsy. The results came back as a type of cancer. Soft tissue sarcoma. High grade. Basically, this is not a good cancer. (I hadn't realized there was a good cancer). She gave me the name of an oncologist in Scarborough and suggested I make an appointment to have a consultation to discuss the options. If I choose radiation, I'll have to go to Massachusetts as there are no places in Maine for dogs to receive radiation treatment. At this point my verbal skills have reverted to those of a 4-year-old, with lots of mhmm's, yeah's and okay's.
I hang up the phone and put my head on my desk for a few moments to allow for a few tears to come. I am thankful there was no one else in the office this afternoon. I'm not ready to talk to people about this. I don't want to talk about it. I want it to go away, but that's not how this works.
I try to act normal when I get home, but dogs know. They can sense things. Maybe he already knew he was sick. Well, her certainly knows that he had a hunk taken out of his rib cage, and he certainly doesn't enjoy wearing the cone of shame (which he managed to get out of twice already). The worst thing is right now I can't even allow him to do anything he enjoys because his incision from removing the tumor is still healing.
I want him to know that I am sorry for allowing him to get cancer. I'm sure he is mad at me for taking him to the vet, and allowing them to shave him and cut into him. I need him to be okay and I want him to know that I am going to do everything that I can, but I'm worried he will see the treatments as more bad things that I am doing to him. We don't speak the same language, so I can't even tell him that what happens next will be to help him and because I love him.
I hang up the phone and put my head on my desk for a few moments to allow for a few tears to come. I am thankful there was no one else in the office this afternoon. I'm not ready to talk to people about this. I don't want to talk about it. I want it to go away, but that's not how this works.
I try to act normal when I get home, but dogs know. They can sense things. Maybe he already knew he was sick. Well, her certainly knows that he had a hunk taken out of his rib cage, and he certainly doesn't enjoy wearing the cone of shame (which he managed to get out of twice already). The worst thing is right now I can't even allow him to do anything he enjoys because his incision from removing the tumor is still healing.
I want him to know that I am sorry for allowing him to get cancer. I'm sure he is mad at me for taking him to the vet, and allowing them to shave him and cut into him. I need him to be okay and I want him to know that I am going to do everything that I can, but I'm worried he will see the treatments as more bad things that I am doing to him. We don't speak the same language, so I can't even tell him that what happens next will be to help him and because I love him.
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