Happy Halloween!

Arrow has a friend, Buttons, staying with her this week. She's kind of excited about having her here because it makes her forget about her injury. Tonight, we played dress up and put the soft e-collar on Buttons. We wanted Arrow to see that other dogs wear the collar too. We thought we could probably get a lot of candy from the neighbors if we went trick or treating--Buttons in the clown costume and Arrow as an ice cream cone. But then we decided we don't need really need candy. All and all we had a nice halloweeen here in Hadley.

Fashion Faux Pas

Apparently Arrow did not agree with the fashion statement she was making by wearing her new "Soft e-collar." On Saturday, I finally convinced Sally to e-mail one of her crew-mates who is known to have purchased one of these accessories from an on-line store. Because neither of us knew she would need to wear a collar for such a long period of time, we didn't bother investing in the "donut." But after having me abandon her for the guestroom, Sally agreed it was time to find an alternative to the e-collar. If you remember, within 15 minutes of wearing the e-collar, Arrow begins to smack her lips as if she is dehydrated and perhaps slightly suffocating from the cone placed on her head.

I know many of you would agree that she could really be a fashion model in her new wardrobe:




Well, I thought we had solved the problem and that she would embrace her borrowed "swimmie" and trot around the house as if she were wearing Prada. But I came home this evening from work, and called to her, expecting to see her rise from her downstairs bed and greet me. Instead, I find an abandonded "donut," in her bed in the livingroom and my dog at the top of the stairs wondering why I looked concerned! Apparently all the dogs are NOT wearing such fine accoutrements and she did not want to be the only one on her block with a built in pillow on her neck.

Our First Big Outing

We had a big day for ourselves over here. Boney took her first big outing since radiation began to take its toll. First, the other day, we walked all the way around the farm across the street. We took our time, but she wanted to do the whole big loop. In fact, I started to walk towards home before we went ALL the way down to the river and she stopped dead in her tracks as if to say, "Hello! This is my time, and I want to see the water!" So we went down to the river, surveyed the property, and turned around and came home. She picked up a couple of sticks along the way, threw them around and even jumped up once (She pretty much said, "ouch" on the landing).

Well, today was even a bigger day. We got up at 5:45am (yes, that is AM not PM), we gave Arrow her pills, fed her and then packed up the car for a trip to Saratoga for the Head of the Fish regatta. Sally was rowing and wanted her good luck charm there (in case you were wondering, I am not the good luck charm...She rubs Arrow's head for good luck before a race -- not mine). It was a two hour drive and Arrow snuggled with Sally in the back seat of the car. Just so you don't think I was driving Ms Daisys around, we had another rower, Maryellen in the front seat. We got to the regatta and she walked quite far to our muddy and freezing cold spectator spot. We set up my chair and her blanket and set out to watch Sally's 11am race.

Now let me set the stage just so you know how we were both dedicated fans. The regatta was MUDDY! Rain all day yesterday left the grass rather gross. If you remember how much Arrow loves puddles (and yes, I do too!) you'll know that she walked an obstacle course around all the open water. We had to arrive at the regatta for 9am (two hours before the race). OK, we can do that, no problem. "Hopefully when the sun comes up it will be warmer than 30 degrees outside" Boney and I said to ourselves. As we sat there, Sally gave us the good news. The time of the race wasn't 11am. It was really NOON! Not only did we get up an extra hour early, but we got to sit in the freezing cold for another hour (which turned into an hour and a half because there were delays)!

So Boney and I made some friends. She has really taken on a whole new attitude. She has always been overall friendly, but most of you know she has her skittish moments where she doesn't want to meet new people and she doesn't want to be pet. She was sooo relaxed at this regatta. She was going up to people and putting her head in their hands, leaning up against them, and nudging them with her nose. Sally and I thought she was saying, "Hi, I'm Arrow, I have cancer. But I'm a survivor! Aren't I cute? I would like it if you would pet me."

Here's who we met. The two people sitting next to us loved her. They were freezing to death waiting for their college aged daughter who was rowing for guess where? Binghamton! Small world I thought. (A digression, these two asked me if I had a daughter in the race. Now mind you that today's races included college and masters rowers. So my daughter could have been 20 or 30+. Either way, I felt quite old). These people really liked Arrow. We discussed her radiation and they told me about their 16 year old poodle that they just had to put down. They loved the dog so much and wished us both luck.

Then we met a man who just thought she was the cutest thing. We talked about her cancer and then I said, I had no idea how radiation burned the skin. To which he said, "Neither did my mother, but I tell her as long as it gets rid of the cancer its worth it!"

The next couple we met had a nine month old golden retriever with them. They said they just recently had to put down their 9 year old golden who had a brain tumor. They decided not to treat the dog as the chances of success were very small. We are lucky they said and wished us the best.

We met many other people throughout the day who smiled at her or stopped and asked if they could pet our dog. We learned that everyone had a story and that story was sometimes sad, and sometimes inspiring, but they all revealed a little bit about strangers and the commonalities between us. All in all she had a great first day out (better than Sally's row apparently) and is happy to have spent it with both of us (despite the cold).

There are many reasons why Sally and I have decided we won't have children. One of those reasons has become glaringly clear: I am a worrier (you may have been able to tell this about me from previous posts). I don't think that I will get a good night's sleep until Arrow's restriction on licking her wound is lifted. Everytime she makes a sound, I hear it. If we put a t-shirt on her, she can sometimes get to the lower part of her wound and lick it. If we put the e-collar on her, she smacks her lips throughout the night. Everytime, I hear it. Last night I couldn't do it anymore. I slept in the guest room. I shut the door. Left my wife with Arrow (she can sleep through anything--another item for our list of reasons), and slept like a baby.

Payin' It Forward

Glo says I can be the guest blogger tonight. She is busy teaching her on line course while I watch the sox.

We had a good report at Tufts today. The wound is healing well. In fact, today they said the area was a bit too dry. A far cry from the moist desquamation ick of the past 1o days. She has to stay on the pain meds for a while after the skin heals because the muscles below are inflamed. However, she will start more weight bearing on the left front leg soon as the inflammation subsides and we only have to clean the thing every other day or so rather than daily. This is really great news. The front desk staff, oncology techs and Dr. Lee were happy to see her, and she was oddly glad to see them as well.

She was adorable at the hospital, greeting everyone in the waiting room with her nose pressed into their hands for a pat. She totally goes up to strangers now, like the Welcome Wagon. When we walked in to check in, a couple was there for emergency care for their 6 year old yellow lab with kidney failure. The dog had been fine, and suddenly stopped eating. Boom, then diagnosed with kidney failure. The woman was crying as they took her pup in for examination. After we checked in, Arrow, Glo and I found a seat in the waiting room sort of near the crying lady. Well, Arrow marched right over to her, nudged her hand in that "you need to pat me now and don't stop" way that she is so adept at doing, and sat next to her. The woman smiled, stroked her head, as Arrow looked at her with those soulful eyes. I really saw this sense of calm and peace appear on the woman's face. She stopped crying at that moment.

Arrow really tunes in to others' emotional states, and has a way of being present with you that is hard to explain. My dad says she always knows where you are. He speaks literally, that Wally. So what he means is when we have been out for the night and she is hanging with them at the Cape watching some dumb tv show likely fox news, she is sound asleep. A few minutes before we pull into the driveway, Arrow will sit up in her bed or stand up and look at the door because she senses our return. She knows where we are- not just physically but mentally.

We ended up having a nice conversation with the couple and all found support and consolation in a shared experience of facing a dire diagnosis unexpectedly. I think seeing Arrow heal, and hopefully being on the other side of this, has shown me what faith can do. And how it really feels good to pay it forward. Arrow with her cold wet nose pressed into this stranger's hand, and her bright eyes and gentle spirit brightened these folks' day. Thanks Arrow for teaching us how to live in the moment and to pay it forward.

It Takes a Village

Everyone needs friends and family to help them heal. Not only does Boney have two doting moms who love her very much, but she has Beanie and Booda who keep her company and share their love. Neither of them have taken to licking and cleaning her wound (thank God!), but they are all about cleaning her ears, licking her face, and keeping her company.

Tomorrow is our two week follow up with the vet. I will be interested in knowing how they think she is progressing. I know some of you may think I'm projecting, but I think she is a little depressed. She looks sad and tired. She doesn't get out of bed without A LOT of coaxing. When we get walking, she does have a spring in her step and her appetite is fine, but I think she's tired of being sick. And she is still in some pain.

Her stunt this evening: We came home from work and took her out for a walk. We left to go celebrate a friend's birthday. We didn't want to put her e-collar on her (see the picture below), so we put a white polo shirt on her. When we came home, her shirt was ripped off and lying on the steps. She was alone in her bed upstairs looking all innocent. Her wound looks cleaner than it ever has -- the little devil!

Home Sweet Home

I got home late last night. I was hoping Boney would greet me at the door, but she was kind of drugged out of her mind. Sally did such a great job taking care of her. She is really getting a lot better. She's still limping and still has to wear the lampshade, but we can take longer walks and she can trot more than she used to. We go back to the vet on Thursday morning. I think she really is coming along!

Secondhand News

I'm still in Omaha so I can't provide a real time update on Arrow's progress. Sally sent me a picture of her over the phone which was nice. The report from the vet's office is that everything looks good and she is starting to show a bit more pink skin around the edges which means she's starting to heal. Tomorrow is the day that she should turn the corner. However, the radiation tech told Sally today, "They tell people it only gets worse for a week, but I've seen it get worse over a two week period sometimes." Hello?! I've been telling Arrow all week that this will soon be over. She did say that it did look like Arrow is in the healing phase so that is good news. Arrow even jumped into the back seat of Sally's car without help today when Sally opened the door. It sounds like things are going well while I'm away. I do miss everyone though!

Poor Sally

In my moments of self reflection, I have often found myself saying, "Poor Sally." I have several reasons for such thoughts. First, poor Sally is home alone with Boney for the next five days--the next two of which will be her worst days. I am in Omaha NE while I write this having had to leave my wife and my dog (oh, and the cats) behind for several days. Let me digress for a moment and say that after being in Omaha for about five hours, I would MUCH rather be at home with the family. But back to "poor Sally." She is at home having to take primary responsibilty for all the medicine, all the walks, all the cleanings, and the ointment spreading over the next few days. Today was a particularly sad day for me because as we were doing this morning's cleaning, (and you all know Sally was doing wound care while I was holding Arrow's head and whispering sweet nothings in her ear) Arrow actually wimpered for the first time.

Second, I say "poor Sally," because as hard as it will be for her to do all of the caretaking while I am gone, I'm not so sure that she is any worse off than when I was at home. I found myself quizzing her about what medication was given when and how many times a day. I would ask her to double check a medication before she gave it to her to make sure that she was administering the right one. I would ask her how she would handle different scenarios while I was gone. I was kind of like a gnat.

I am pretty attentive to Arrow. And let's just say, while she begins to go to sleep, I hear EVERY move she makes, EVERY breath that she takes. "Poor Sally" is trying to sleep because she has to get up at the ungodly hour of 4:45am for crew practice (which I will add is her choice) and I am popping up in bed every 5-15 min SURE that I hear Arrow licking her wound (through the t-shirt we have put on her). Invariably when I pop up, she is lying peacefully in her bed. Sometimes, I think she heard me pop up and so lies down before I can see her and then I try to pop up without making noise to trick her. But again, I am 95% of the time wrong about what I have heard.

Last night, I popped up about four times in the first hour after going to bed. Once was to make sure she wasn't licking her wound, one time was so that I could turn the TV and lights off downstairs, another time was to go to the bathroom, and the final time was because she was breathing heavy. I do have to say, her breathing was labored and I was convinced we perhaps had overmedicated her (long story, a pill I gave her got stuck in her throat and less than half was ingested. Sally followed up with a whole pill). Her breathing was shallow and noticeably heavy. I got up and sat with her for awhile. Sally was at first annoyed and then agreed that the breathing was odd. After a fifth "pop up" to take off her polo shirt (perhaps she is too hot) and put on her e-collar, it appeared that her breathing returned to normal. But alas, the silence didn't last long before she resumed her heavy breathing. So a sixth "pop up" resulted in my going to the computer and googling side effects of her medication. Finally, I convinced myself she would be OK. At this point "poor Sally" was down to a maximum of four hours of sleep (assuming no more pop ups).

Finally, "poor Sally" is getting a glimpse of how I may respond to her as my partner if she were to get sick and need care. Although it is likely that she will be soothed by the way I hold her head in my arms, stroke her hair, and tell her I love her, I think she is also clear that I'm not going to be so good at preventing infection in her bed sores. She may be upping her retirement savings so that she can pay for a visiting nurse to handle that aspect of her care.

I realize as I write this that many of you might have your own "poor Sally" thoughts to add. Be gentle. Its been a rough few weeks :)

Animal Behavior

I thought I would post a nice cute picture of Arrow to help erase the sad image below. Here she is with her new polo shirt -- halloween colors and all (Thank you Amy and Justin!).

Here is a question I'm pondering...Why does Arrow (and probably other dogs do the same thing) feel compelled to lick up and eat pieces of herself that fall onto the floor or in her bed? Whether its the ointment that falls onto her bed or literally pieces of her burn, she tries to eat them (even with the lampshade on her head!) I'm trying to understand this behavior. It could be that she wants to lick her wound but can't get to it and this is the next best thing. It could be that she wants to clean up after herself (dogs are pretty clean). It could be some other kind of instinct. But I'm trying to understand her desire to do this. It's not her best quality, but she still is the cutest thing ever!

Today's Blog is Not for Everyone

I'm giving you all a chance to NOT scroll below if you have a weak stomach or if you don't want to see Boney's current state of health. I took a couple of pictures of her tonight and after talking with Sally and some friends who saw her yesterday, I decided to post the pictures below. Sally and I were asking each other how we made it to 40-something not knowing that radiation treatment can burn one's body! We really had no idea. And we certainly didn't know what it would look like in our dog.

When we first went to the oncologist, he told us that as a result of the radiation, Arrow would get a "bad sunburn." Now, I've had bad sunburns before. In fact, my friend Don and I used to try to get really sunburned just so we could whine about it together! (We were young and this was before all the health communications about the dangers of the sun causing skin cancer. Public Health in action. 30 years later, we wouldn't dream of being so silly--or would we?).

Needless to say, Arrow's side effects from radiation are far worse than anything Don and I did to ourselves. I hope these pictures say a couple of things: 1) The reality of cancer is that it is harsh and it takes a lot to kill the cancer cells. It really is serious businees. This is Arrow's process. It's not every dog's experience. 2) She is incredibly brave and strong to be tolerating her treatment so well. Today, we walked across the street to the farm and she was trotting right along. Although I know she is still in pain (she was walking sideways for most of it), she is really doing well. The burn will continue to get worse over the next four days (apprarently radiation stays in the system for seven days post treatment continuing to do its thing). We're counting down.

In the picture of her in her bed, you'll notice a little brown spot next to the big burn. That is from radiation they administered to her lymph node. The last treatment on that spot was last Tuesday, so that spot is just about at its peak. You can see it looks nothing like the football on the right. I'm wondering if that one is so bad because she had recently had surgery? I'm not sure.

Some of you might think this is really harsh treatment for a dog. But we really believe we did the right thing and that her chances of having a lot more time in the sun, hikes, swims, sticks, and hot dogs will be greatly improved. She is resting comfortably tonight.

Labor of Love

Most of the time I look at Arrow and see her as a dog who is getting better. Other times, I look into her eyes and see my dog who has cancer. Even though they removed the tumor, she is undergoing cancer treatment, and I can't help but see my dog as being ill. I wonder, "How did we get here?" But I guess that is always the case with a cancer diagnosis. Its not like we prepare for it and then it happens. It comes up out of the blue and catches you off guard. Those of you who know me well know that of course I've been thinking about the day when little Boney gets sick. Truthfully though I didn't picture that happening until a couple of years down the road. I didn't picture spending this fall helping her with her cancer treatment. These are the realities that we now face. Arrow was sick and she is recovering, but she's also worn out, scared, sometimes confused, sometimes content (and sometimes drugged out of her mind!).

The routine around here has changed quite a bit for the next couple of weeks. We get up in the morning and give her two different pain pills. We let them kick in for about half and hour and then we take her downstairs, walk slowly down the stairs with her and let her out into the backyard to do her thing. You'd think that this would be quick, she would pee and poop, and want to come back inside because she is sore. That's not exactly how it goes. She stands in the woods and stares at us for about 10 minutes or so before she decides that we REALLY aren't going for a walk and that she really is going to be stuck inside the house all day again. Occasionally during this outing she will pick up a couple of sticks to try to entice us to play with her.

Back inside finally, we feed her and let her drink some water. We eat our own breakfast and then we lay out a towel onto the tile floor and get the warm water, cleaning solution, Vitamin E oil and ointment out and lay it around the towel. After yelling at the cats to get out of the way (that would be me yelling at them), we call Arrow over and convince her to lie down. As much as she knows this is going to be unpleasant, she walks over to us and lies herself down. Sally does the cleaning and I hold her head and tell her its all going to be OK. I rub her forehead, and keep her from licking the cleaning solution while Sally applies it. This takes about 5-10 minutes and then Sally puts the ointment on. I then lay on the floor with her, rubbing her head and keeping her relaxed. The saddest part about this is that the whole time her little body is tembling. She is so scared, and the pain is pretty bad, but she trusts us. Sometimes she'll even lift her little arm in the air to help Sally reach under it and clean it out. Ten minutes after the ointment, we put a t-shirt on her (we have a bunch of them now) so that while we are here, she doesn't have to wear the lamp shade.

Early evening, she gets another pill, more ointment, and another head massage. Back outside, we have to convince her once again that she's not ready for a walk, and then in for dinner. About 8 pm, she gets one more pill. Before bed, we give her one liquid dose of an anti-inflammatory, and one more pain pill--Let it kick in, and then back outside for the final pee. The ointment goes on, ten more minutes of a head massage, and then the t-shirt. Then we all go up to bed. Whew! Another day down. Five more to go before peak. We're getting there!

She's Home!

We brought Arrow home this evening. She is a superstar! Nineteen treatments and a football sized burn later she is home and has hopefully kicked cancer's ass. When we picked her up we needed to have a discharge appointment with the oncologist. He took us all into a side room and gave us our instructions (and there are many). I sat on the floor with her to pet her because we hadn't seen her since Tuesday morning. Instead of coming to Sally or I, she nestled with Dr. Lee. Not feeling too put out (yet) we listened as he rubbed her ears and told us how to care for her.

Then, Jen, her new Vet student friend comes into the room. She is the one who said she LOVED her and would miss her (when I was talking with her on the phone this morning, the vet tech in the background yelled, "give her extra kisses from us when you get her home this weekend!). She walked right away from Dr. Lee and right into the arms of Jen! My new positive self reframed my feeling of abandonment into this: "I'm so glad they took good care of her and Arrow feels safe with these people. She really wants to say goodbye to both of them."

She came home and we took her e-collar off (which we can only do when we are with her or she will lick herself). It was very sweet to see Sally lie on the floor with her, rub her head, and whisper happy thoughts to her. She also assured her that she didn't miss any action here during the week! Arrow was a love muffin. She was leaning into Sally, then she was snuggling with me. She didn't forget us for her new friends at Tufts! She still loves us :)

They gave her a new medication which takes care of some of the neuropathic pain (probably why she was twitching). She seems to be doing much better than last weekend. I think that new med is the bomb! Sally wants me to take the new med too as she thinks it will help with my twitch.

P.S. Sally is having angst. You can try to guess why. Would you say it is a) Arrow's pain; b) Having to put ointment on the raw nasty flesh wound 3x a day; or c) the fact that the rugs are going to get her pussy skin all over them; or d) all of the above.

End of Treatment Eve

Tomorrow is Arrow's last day of treatment. I can't believe it has been four weeks since we started this whole process. The hospital staff and Drs. love her. The vet student who called Sally today said that Arrow was doing fine and she had just taken her out for a walk. She said to Sally, "I Love your dog! She is such a good dog. She's soooo sweet."

She told us that they wrote in her chart last night that she didn't eat much. Then they opened a can of dog food and fed her that and she ate that right up (she has always loved her can -- when she was a puppy we used to get her to come by asking her in a high pitched voice, "do you want your can?" and she would come running). The student said Arrow wouldn' eat for her this morning, but then she took her e-collar off and she ate it right up. Sally had to tell them -- she won't eat or drink in her e-collar. Of course she won't eat with the e-collar. As soon as she bends down the collar hits the bowl, the floor, the wall, something -- and that's just too scary! The problem is, as soon as they take that off of her, she immediately starts to lick her wound. We have a picture of her in her collar, but the camera battery died. As soon as we get batteries, I'll post the picture. As sad as it is, she looks adorable.

We're going to keep her pretty drugged up (without overdosing her of course) and hopefully she won't be in so much pain. I have a new attitude. I'm going to be strong for her and give her only positive energy (or at least that is the plan:) I can't believe how much I LOVE my dog!

Perspective

I am doing much better again. Of course when I dropped Arrow off on Tuesday I was a bit of a mess. The poor radiation tech came out to get her --she was all perky and said, "Hi Arrow! How is Arrow today?" Poor woman didn't know what she was in for. Of course I burst into tears! I know, I know, I'm a ball of emotions. But they assure me she is doing fine. Sally and I (well, OK, Sally really) did a good job of keeping her wound clean and she is progressing fine. They called today and said that she is really doing fine. This is what the vet student said, "Her chart says she was in a lot of pain over the weekend, but she's doing fine. She's only limping a little." There are two interpretations of this statement. 1) She doesn't know Arrow and is misinterpreting her pain level; or 2) Arrow is affected by my worrying. I have my suspicions that it is #2.

It has always been my philosophy that life gives us lessons in our daily experiences. Things happen for a reason and we are supposed to learn from them. Sally HATES when I tell her that perhaps a particularly bad day or repeating situation has some lesson in it for her. I'm reading the book Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. Its actually a pretty good book and a few weeks ago, while in Target, I was drawn to this book (no one recommended it at the time). There are a few tidbits that are appropriate for this experience. One point in particular relates to what I need to learn (or re-learn).

I have some issues with control. I want to take care of Arrow's illness and her pain. My lesson: I need to let go. Gilbert says, "Letting go, of course, is a scary enterprise for those of us who believe that the world revolves only because it has a handle on the top of it which we personally turn, and that if we were to drop this handle for even a moment, well that would be the end of the universe. " I can't take away Arrow's pain and my worrying, in fact, is making her worse (note, I know I can't take away her pain, but the drugs can!). I need to accept the process for what it is and believe that she has the strength and courage to get through this. She keeps trying to tell me that and I have not listened to her.

I have also learned a lot about my partner in this process. She shows a depth of caring and love through all of her actions. She in many ways is taking care of both of us. In our day to day, we sometimes lose site of the really beautiful qualities of our partners (like when they can't accept your desire to see the Yankees win), but Sally is very gentle with and very loving towards Arrow. It is quite moving.

Friday, when we pick her up, it's my job to help her, to let her know I'm OK, and listen and watch her as she lets me know that she will be OK too.

If you can't be with the one you love, honey, love the one you're with.

Tonight the doctor did not call for the daily update. Glo is disappointed because he said he would call and it is a letdown to be blown off. She was just thinking she should blog tonight. Just at the moment she was getting ready to begin the daily outpouring, Beanie jumped up on her lap. We decided Beanie was saying take a night off, and pay some attention to me. I am cute too, even if I do jump on the table when you are eating dinner. I am the one with the free laptop at the moment so we are signing off now. Sal

4 and 11

Four more radiation treatments and 11 more days until the burn is at its peak. I probably shouldn't write this while I'm sobbing, but I think this process is awful. She is in a lot of pain, at times you can see her side twitching. I'm trying not to cry while she is around me so I don't make her nervous, but I'm not having much luck. The good news is that she still has an appetite and perked up when we gave her a hot dog. And she swallowed it down as if there isn't a care in the world. I remember when I had my tonsils out, I would look at the clock to see when I could have my next pain med. That's kind of what I'm doing now. She has 30 minutes until her next pill.

We have managed not to poison her this weekend which is good. She hasn't thrown up. We have started an "Arrow getting better on dope" chart to keep track of her meds and so far so good. I feel like they didn't give us quite enough information when we left the hospital on Friday. We're both wondering if her wound is infected because we don't know what it is supposed to look like.

She still keeps us laughing though. We took her in the back yard this morning to go to the bathroom. She's not walking much. Arrow is a dog who really likes to go and poop in private. She will go deep into the woods and find a private spot to do her business. She has always done that. This morning I tried to tell her she could poop in the lawn that it was OK we would clean it up for her. But no, she climbed the hill and took a few steps off the path to do her business. Then she stood there and stared at us. I of course thought that she was standing there because she was in too much pain to come back down the hill. So we tried to call her and entice her to take the necessary steps. But she just stood there. I asked if she wanted some help and took a few steps toward her when she started to walk down the hill AND proceeded to grab a stick! It was like she was saying, "I so don't need your help -- and I can play too!"

We resorted to the lamp shade this morning to give her wound some air time. They told us a shirt was fine, but again, without much instruction we don't know if it continues to be fine as it gets worse. Is it better to air it out? Keep it covered? I don't know. So we decided to give her a break from the shirt. She looked so damn cute in the lamp shade. She wouldn't move for like 5 minutes. She stood there staring at us as if to say, "you can't be serious. I'm now on strike until you get this thing off of my head!" But finally, Sally opened the dishwasher behind her to give her a little prodding and she came over and got into her bed in the living room. I of couse wanted to gate off the stairs so that she wouldn't climb them with the lamp shade on while we were gone. But before I could do that, I was upstairs brushing my teeth when I here little footsteps in the bedroom. Sure enough she again showed me that she is still quite capable!

She's a little trooper.

Uggh!

Well, this isn't going to be pretty. Arrow is doing well. She wants to run and play, but then realizezs that she can't really do that because it kind of hurts. The radiated area is really, really ugly. Let's just say that Sally tells me I shouldn't look at it. She has agreed to do wound care. Reasons why I love my wife: She knows my limits.

I've been having a hard time seeing her. She is kind of tired because of her pain med. I also think this whole process is wiping her out some. The next two weeks are going to continue to be worse and I can't imagine what that will look like. I think her leg might fall off (OK, that's the drama I was mentioning in an earlier blog).

I know in my heart that this is the right thing to do. But I have to say I'm giving it second thoughts. I don't know if she knows what's happening. I don't know if she thinks we're hurting or helping her. If the cancer comes back soon did we just impact the quality of her life? Ugghhhh.....

I think Sally will have a different take on this whole experience, but for me...it's hard.

It's a Long Way to Tipperary!

We brought our girl home tonight. The traffic was terrible and it took us about 4 hours round trip to get her. It felt like 44.

The area is pretty red and sore. I think she might be uncomfortable. We have lots of meds to get us through the weekend. Hopefully we won't overdose her. We're taking Kathy's advice and making a chart with check boxes so we can keep track of the drugs. Our other goal is to get her through the weekend without throwing up. We have a long weekend which is nice. Only four more treatments left!

She's "Doing Great!"

I felt a little like I was cheating on Arrow tonight. We went over to the house of one of her doggie friends for dinner (yummy!) and a game of Taboo. She would have been proud of her mommies who did very well at the game. Her radiation treatment helped us through some words like "sunburn," and "stiff." But Buttons missed her and I couldn't help but think she would have enjoyed being there with us.

The update from the Dr. is that she's "doing great." She's sleeping well, eating, does not have any GI issues and they check on her every hour. That's pretty much more attention then she gets at home. She is also not licking her wound which keeps that stupid e-collar off of her hopefully for good. We pick her up tomorrow for a long weekend! It's been very quiet around here. We look forward to having her home.

Cuteness

Sally tells me that I have an easily accessible, but not so functional coping strategy. I go to the dark side and imagine the worst, and get sad about the whole process. When the Dr. calls and gives us the update on Arrow, I hear, "she's alone and in a lot of pain." Sally, on the other hand hears, "She's doing well and starting to get mild irritation at the incision site. We're going to send you home with a stronger pain med on Friday just to stay ahead of the pain."

My new coping strategy that I'm trying out today is to talk about how cute Arrow is and share some of her unique qualities. Some people say that dogs are like their owners. Now Arrow is definitely our dog - both Sally and I are dedicated to her fully and completely. As I describe her quirky yet endearing qualities, I leave it up to the reader to decide who she acquired a particular trait from (or which one of us picked up the trait from her).

When I picked Arrow up from the shelter, she was 10 weeks old. Her ears were about three sizes as big as her head and when they perked up, a good wind might have propelled her away. She came into the house (I was living in Montague then), walked into the dining room, and curled up on the floor nestled into the corner of the sectional couch we had in that room. She was only 10 weeks old! What dog at 10 weeks, goes into a new place and doesn't explore? Or try to chew things? My friends (and you know who you are) asked if the shelter actually gave me an old dog. Or a dog with progeria. I like to think of her as an old soul.

As time went on, I learned about some of her other quirky traits. She has some fear. We sooned learned that she is afraid of metal. Of course, I didn't know that and was convinced that her metal crate would become her safe haven from the scary world. "Why does she keep peeing in it?" I would ask. Dogs aren't supposed to pee where they sleep. Poor thing had a crazy fear of metal! And then the ice skates. She slipped her collar twice as a puppy and ran home to get away from the sound of the metal skates on ice. (I'm talking blocks, and she ran! I wasn't walking her either time, but she took off like a bolt of lightening and the poor person in charge was left to wonder where she could have gone only to find her wagging her tail on the porch of her house.) She is afraid of partially opened doors and wouldn't walk through one even if there was a fresh, juicy hamburger on the other side waiting for her. She grew afraid of the car (really the highway - and Sally is convinced that it is my driving that makes her crazy), and her fear of thunder kicked in about five years ago.

But she has other qualities too. She is Brave! My little dog who is sometimes afraid of her own shadow, will seek out those drainage tubes that go under ground and run through them. No matter how long they are or how skinny, she will try to work her way in and crawl to the other side. There is one of those tubes in our neigbors yard that runs from his backyard all the way down to the street and actually goes under the road and to the other side of the street and into the farm. On one of our walks, she ran ahead of me and I couldn't find her. It dawned on me that she had probably crawled into that tube. Of course, I was sure she would get stuck and I had visions of having to call DPW to excavate the road in order to get her out (that would be the dark side that Sally refers to!).

She is dramatic. She can be prone to a little bit of drama. When she steps on a thorn she walks on three legs and hops over to Sally (yes, Sally. Even she has figured out who the port in the storm is here) for her to remove the "plank" that has entered her paw. The other morning we were walking in the field across the street -- Arrow, Sally, and I-- and Arrow picked up a cornstalk that was lying on the ground. She was throwing it around, taunting us to grab one end and as we got close, she would pull it away and toss it in the air again. Then she started to shred it. Well apparently some of the cornstalk got caught on the roof of her mouth in between her teeth. She was sticking her tongue out reaching for the stuck corn. She put her head to the ground and her paws on her mouth, trying to get it out. She was opening and closing her mouth, snarling as if she might be in serious trouble. My response-- "Honey, you have to help her!" Sally's response -- she walks over, opens her mouth, reaches her fingers down her throat to make sure whe wasn't choking. Satisfied that she would live, Sally keeps walking. Arrow walks ahead, stops, turns around, starts pawing at her face again and walks over to Sally. I'm sure she was saying, "Please, help me -- I'm sure I'm dying!" Sally once again opened her mouth only to see the string of cornstalk that was causing such pain.

She is a frisky puppy. Don't let the progeria I talked about earlier fool you. She puts on the "I'm so tired" face when she's in the house, but take her outside and she runs, chases sticks, hikes, and chases other dogs around who are half her age. As soon as you say, "Wanna go for a walk?" She perks her little ears up, sit up, waits a minute to see if you are serious, and then runs (or trots) to the door. She loves to play keep away and wonders why none of her doggy friends will play that game with her. I try to tell her that she can't pick up a plush toy, push it into her friends mouth and then growl at them when they try to take it from her. It's as if she says, "Come on, I know you want this toy. Isn't it nice? Just take one end and we can play tug of war." Mostly her friends will ignore her taunts, but finally, unable to resist, they open their mouth to take the teddy bear's leg. Arrow will lift her lip. And if that warning isn't enough, she'll add a little growl to it. She still wonders why Beanie and Booda won't play keep away with her.

She is really one of a kind.

Week 3

Arrow seems to be doing better in the GI department. The verdict is that her upset belly happened because we overdosed her. Her arm is not looking so good. She seems to be somewhat uncomfortable and annoyed by her burn. I guess the question is really, "Who wouldn't be?" She's also having a little bit of trouble getting into the car after her treatment. That could very well be because she is pretty drugged at that point. Today she slipped and I had to grab her and lift her into the back seat of the car.

Tomorrow morning Sally is going to drop her off and then she stays at the hospital until Friday. The radiation tech came out into the waiting room this morning and in her hand was the big E-collar. Otherwise known as the lamp shade. Poor boney. She just doesn't look good in one of those. They said that she could wear a shirt instead of the collar. Sally and I bought her a nice little outfit. As soon as we put it on her, I'll get a picture of her and post it here. You might not recognize her :)

Eight more days of treatment left and although that doesn't seem like a lot, I can't imagine what her leg will look like by the time she is done. She is still incredibly frisky. Yesterday we went for a long walk with her old friend Montana and they ran around sniffing and hunting. Tonight she picked up a cornstalk from the field across the street and was playing keep away with Sally and I. She really does not look like a sick dog at all which makes us think she's going to kick cancer's ass! Go Boney!