So here we are, at Part 4 of a four-part series on dying dogs and veterinarians. Like life, the series hasn’t been quite linear, so you can find the other parts in this diary here: Entry 6, #1, where we lose our long-time vet; Entry 8, #2, where we meet up again with a former vet; and Entry 10, #3, where we meet the radiologist.
Today, we’re at diagnosis and solutions, with a consult with a veterinary surgeon.
The Vet and the Radiologist
I’d taken Murphy straight to Dr. Glenn Johnson at the West Seattle Animal Hospital on Monday, Dec. 26, 2011. I know most people wouldn’t have taken their dog in for coughing four times in the morning and at night, but I admit to being overprotective and proactive, and I’m proud of it (it is, however, expensive). Blood tests and a U/A revealed an infection, and we put her on antibiotics. On Wednesday, I was still convinced she needed an x-ray because I’m an intuitive, right, and I was convinced it was her heart (and I didn’t look any deeper than that, since we’d discovered a mild heart murmur in October).
Dr. Johnson humored me, partly, he admits, because of my stories of Cavaliers suddenly presenting with serious heart disease that started with a mild cough. But I was wrong: Murphy had a splenic tumor. A follow-up discussion with him and a look at an x-ray convinced me to order an ultrasound to be completely certain, so Murphy and I could figure out what to do.
I admit, I had lost my beloved English Cocker, Maggie, to a sudden illness and to exhaustion: mine. I had felt guilty for years about what I decided was a precipitated death: I believed I had given up on her without trying very hard to help, even though it was back in 1986 and veterinary care in the backwoods wasn’t anything like it is today. Still. I was determined to do right by Murphy.
We would figure it out step by step, I decided.
The radiologist made a special trip to the clinic to do Murphy’s ultrasound. He was determined to save her, convinced from the x-ray that it was cancer and determined to give her the best chance of surviving.
Except our dogs do not survive hemangiosarcoma. Ever.
I appreciated the irony. I had left the West Seattle Animal Hospital when Murphy was a young dog because of an issue over an ultrasound, and now we were back, and a radiologist and the clinic were turning Murphy’s care into a mission.
Awesome.
They were very clear. The radiologist, Lee Yannik, DVM, was sure she had a splenic tumor that was cancer, but everything else, including her heart, was fine. He wanted me to operate on her to give her the longest life possible. Dr. Johnson hesitated because of her age and underlying health issues: arthritis, bronchitis, her heart murmur, and the strong possibility it was cancer and couldn’t be cured. If she had surgery it had to be in a specialty clinic where she would be in intensive care 24/7.
It was clear I got some information, but not enough. I needed to talk with the people who saw these tumors all the time, so Dr. Johnson consulted with Jennifer Weh at ACCES in Seattle, and then I took Murphy to see her.
The Veterinary Surgeon
I had been to that clinic before, with a dear friend who lost her beloved dog to the same cancer they suggested Murphy had. What I noticed this time is that half their hospital, and half the reception area, was for cancer care. The waiting room was busy.
I quailed to see that. Would that be our future, waiting for cancer care?
Jennifer Weh DVM, was matter-of-fact, cordial, and, something I’ve seen a lot of in recent years: younger than me. I took an instant liking to her when she walked in the room and I explained that I wanted to explore Murphy’s options while understanding that as a surgeon she was predisposed to surgery.
“Now, don’t judge me,” she gently chided.
I liked that, gently reassuring me that she was not only capable of looking at the options but of also being open-minded. I figured we were going to get straight answers, whether I liked them or not.
And we did. She had discussed the case with Dr. Johnson and reviewed all the file notes from the radiologist. She also carefully examined Murphy, paying particular attention to the weakness in her hind legs that I had first noticed on occasion in early December.
Here’s the thing. They can’t ever be sure what they’re dealing with in these splenic tumors until they operate and take them out. Sometimes they look like cancer on x-ray and ultrasound, sometimes they look benign and only pathology on removed tumors reveals the cancer.
Most of the time, Dr. Weh explained, the tumors abruptly bleed and the animals go into crisis, when they had appeared perfectly healthy the day before. It happens, but it isn’t as common to find it early like we did, before there were obvious signs of a problem, like a bleeding episode or swollen belly.
Except we had a clear indication following blood tests on Dec. 26 that indicated anemia and an infection, and the x-ray on Dec. 28, which indicated the anemia could be from the tumor, which had bled and then sealed itself off.
It was possible it could be a benign tumor, meaning it was still on her spleen but it wasn’t cancer. In that case, not operating and removing was essentially a death sentence, because it would eventually rupture and Murphy would bleed out.
I asked about the possibility that her inherited blood disorder, a macroplatelet condition, had caused a problem with the spleen. It seemed logical: the spleen filters platelets, and since macroplatelets confuse it, what if the tumor was her body’s way of compensating for this condition? Then removing the tumor could kill her. An interesting theory, Dr. Weh said, but there were no studies, so no one knew. What they had been doing more recently, she said, was removing the spleens of these dogs. I have no idea when that therapy arrived, if I could have saved Murphy by removing her spleen as a young dog. I will investigate that at some point, so I can talk intelligently about it, but it was a moot issue for us: we had a spleen with a serious problem.
The Decision
What were we going to do about it?
Obviously we had to look at Murphy’s current condition. She had developed a heart arrhythmia, which occurs in dogs under distress, particularly old dogs with existing murmurs, and she had two murmurs: a mild mitral valve murmur, common to Cavaliers, and a moderate tricuspid valve murmur. She had arthritis, which was painful and slowing her down, although she was still pretty vibrant for her age. She had bronchitis, which was being treated.
Surgery would be complicated but not impossible, Dr. Weh assured me. They would compensate for the heart, and she would need to be in intensive care for several days. She would be down for a week or so, and probably not be able to do stairs for about 10 days. That was assuming everything went well. The actual removal of the spleen isn’t as hard as getting all the blood vessels properly tied off: that was a difficulty in older dogs.
It was daunting enough. I am handicapped, and we live one flight up in a condo. Getting Murphy up and down the stairs was hard enough with arthritis. It would be impossible with surgery: we would have to get help, but we could do it. But could I ask her to go through another surgery, to be uncomfortable and in pain from surgery, when I’d promised her I’d never ask her to do something like that again?
And what about cost? The initial surgery and stay alone would be about $3000, barring complications. Frankly, I couldn’t afford it, I just couldn’t. But I’d find a way if I could help her, because that’s just what you did. Everything we’ve faced together as a family had been to beat something that we could beat, to give Murphy a healthy, happy life, to give her the chance to make her contribution to the family and to the world. To do the right thing.
What was the right thing? That’s what we were trying to find out. That’s why we went to see the surgeon, Dr. Weh, to the people who saw tumors like this every day, to understand what we could about what we faced.
Dr. Weh proved invaluable for that. She said people usually bring in their dogs who’ve presented in crisis, and the people are shocked, because they had been well, and they insisted on surgery to save them. To get more time to process the shock, to say goodbye, because it was usually cancer. In our case, we knew before a serious crisis presented itself.
The question was: if it was cancer, she was going to die anyway, because I’d already heard that you couldn’t beat it. The problem is: if it wasn’t cancer, simply a benign tumor, then Murphy would still die if I didn’t remove it, because it was still growing and would rupture and Murphy would bleed out.
What a hideous decision: unless I operated Murphy would die, but if it was cancer, she would die anyway, and with her age and underlying health issues, it wouldn’t be easy and might be impossible. The problem being: it might be impossible.
So what did Dr. Weh think it was?
Dr. Weh emphasized that the only way to know whether Murphy had cancer was to operate. Her best guess: she was more than 90 percent certain that it was cancer. The word ‘cavitated’ is very bad in medical terms, and a pretty good clue.
“This cancer is insidious,” she said. Even if you remove the tumor, it hides, and a single cell means doom. It’s aggressive and it’s fast. In fact, the early signs were on us in mid-December: the weakness in her hind legs was the tumor, she said, not the arthritis. I thought about that: the weakness I’d noticed, that I thought was different than her arthritis, actually was: it was the tumor.
We couldn’t beat the cancer. No one ever does. All you can do is buy time.
Murphy’s odds: six months with surgery and chemotherapy. Three months without.
I blinked back tears as I petted Murphy. I had wanted straight answers, and I got them.
I could operate on her, put her through surgery and the debilitation that comes with recovery and old age, complicated by arthritis and a weakening heart. Adding chemo to the mix, which could make her ill. All knowing that she was going to die anyway.
Or I could spend as much time with her as I could, keep her comfortable and happy. Keep the family happy.
I had a lot to think about. A lot to talk with Murphy about.
We had to make decisions on the bargains we’d made with each other: that we came together to get well, to heal, that we had done that, and that I had promised not to ask anything more of her.
Surgery was asking a lot. A lot to suffer through, for all of us, not just Murphy in recovery, and me being handicapped and in pain trying to carry her and care for her, but Alki and Grace the Cat suffering with us as our lives were disrupted.
I stood there and stared at this surgeon, this young woman, so matter-of-fact and so passionate about her work. So aware of the intimacy of the human-animal bond. So clear that what we were facing was a family decision, something for me and Murphy to decide together, and that her role as the veterinarian was to give her us the benefit of her knowledge and experience.
I was stunned and grief-stricken again, because I knew that either way I was most likely going to lose Murphy: she was spry for her age, but she was old for the breed, and she was starting to show it.
But another part of me was looking at this woman and wondering about what made her tick. What people choose to do with their lives is fascinating. How they live them. What they stand for. I admired her decency and integrity. Her smarts.
It was not the normal veterinary model: she was not playing the role of “I know best, you do what I say,” which is why we’d left our long-time vet. Here was a vet like Dr. Johnson and Dr. Yannik: people who cared, who were realistic, who knew their role was to relate their experience and opinion and let you choose your own course, even if, like Dr. Yannik, their choice was clear.
So I wondered what Dr. Weh thought, and decided to ask.
Biting back tears, I asked her, “So what do you call people who say ‘no’ to surgery?”
She stopped and looked me straight in the eye, a slight smile on her face.
In a soft voice she said: “Compassionate.”
© 2012 Robyn M Fritz
Robyn,
Your story has struck a cord. Just over one year ago my new boarder collie puppy named Dexter was hit by a speeding car on a spring afternoon. The only thing I could think of when I picked him up off the pavement was “where do I go” and I remembered seeing Access Care in Renton. Speeding through red lights, down hills and arriving a whole process I don’t really remember. Faced with the tough decisions I had to make which I couldn’t do at that time the Sunday staff was fabulous.
Dr Jen Weh was in the office within 20 minutes, standing in front of me walking through step by step of what needed to be done first. After a broken jaw, shoulder, loosing two teeth and a broken leg there were 4 surgeries and months of rehab but she was there every week. I smiled with your comment about “now don’t judge me” and her calm manner because that is exactly her. She’s passionate about her profession more than anyone I know and her team is just amazing.
Thanks for sharing your story.
Dorie
Dorie, thank you for your story! So glad you also had a good experience with Dr Weh. Thanks for sharing your stoy! My best to you and Dexter! Robyn
Robyn,
Thank you for sharing your story. My beautiful 8-year old Lab Bailey died Sunday from a Splenic Tumor that presented acutely. It caught me completely by surprise and Bailey was doing just fine and hour before playing with the kids and hanging out. She collapsed and I knew it was very serious and rushed her to the ER. I had a good Vet that diagnosed her and felt she was straight forward and gave me her absolute best advice based on the knowledge she had. I even held her feet to the fire and asked her “What would you do if you where me?’. She tried to duct the question, but she stood firm and said in her experience and that she is really good with Ultrasound and that this particular tumor looked like HSA. She said that she was pretty confident that it was HSA, however could not be 100% sure without removing it. She said that if she was in my shoes with a young child and what she knew she would do what I was thinking. Which was looking at the realization of putting my Bailey girl to sleep. It the most awful decision in my 43-year old life that I’ve had to make! I have had a few tough years financially and knew that the $3,500-$4,000 would put me into serious hardship. However, if I knew the surgery would save Bailey, I would have found the money and made it work!!!
I stood firm and made the call and asked the vet to bring Bailey to me. I said my goodbye’s and the vet came in and she and I together put my Bailey girl to sleep. I admire the vet, she was with me the whole time and did not shy away from her own decision! That told me that she believed in what she was doing and I knew she felt the tremendous pain I was feeling, it must have been very difficult for her.
I beat myself up for not giving Bailey the fighting chance that it was benign (which was estimated at <10% chance). Trying to punish myself will pass and I know that it was my decision alone and responsibility to take care of my Bailey. I made the absolute best decision I could at a critical time with as much information as I could get to care for an animal that meant the Would to me. I don't wish this on anyone and I hope hearing my story will help someone else who had to make the same gut-wrenching decision.
God Speed Bailey, R.I.P my sweet girl!
David, thank you for your heartfelt story. My condolences to you on the loss of your wonderful Bailey. Sadly, the circumstances of her tumor are the norm. I was lucky that we found Murphy’s tumor essentially accidentally. The vet surgeon told me that your case is actually the typical one, and that they generally operate only to give the family a chance to say goodbye. I grieve for you and your family, and for your heartache. Vets today are sadly quite experienced with cancer, especially hemangiosarcoma, and how it presents on ultrasound is an excellent clue as to what it really is. Yes, without a biopsy, you won’t know for sure, but I think you trusted correctly in the vet’s opinion. I am glad for you that you received such frank and honest support. I know many other vets would go ahead and operate without either realizing or without telling you what the real issue was. I hope you take comfort in knowing that you did the best you could. Dying from this disease is brutal, and our animals are lucky we can offer them an easier way. Please don’t blame yourself for your decision. It was humane, loving, honest, and wise. The world is grateful that there are people like you who love deeply and well, and are brave enough to do the right thing, no matter how hard it is. May Bailey grace you with her presence in another body when you are and your family are ready. I hope your story helps others. It brought tears to my eyes, and it’s been two years since I lost Murphy. Peace, my friend. You are a wonderful advocate for our animal families.
Robyn
Wow. That’s all I can say to this blog. Damn if these aren’t some of the most heartwrenching stories I have ever seen. I’m so sorry to all of you. I, like you all, are going through the exact same thing. Bubbie, my 12 or 13 year old coonhound, was a rescue at 9 years old. When my friend found him, he just showed up on their door with no collar but a healthy appetite and a lot of tail wagging. They never did find their owners and, considering all of the no-kill shelters were full, it was likely he was going to a pound to be put to sleep. My friend posted his picture and begged someone to take him in. I have never had a dog of my own but, his loving face and happiness made me think, there’s no way I can let this poor dog die in a shelter. When I got him, he had just about everything a dog could have, including Lyme Disease, roundworm and heartworm (!!). My vet and I had some long talks about poor Bubbie. I didn’t expect him to live very long. Suffice it to say, 3.5 years later, he has lived and thrived. He has howled and barked the neighborhood awake, pulled me all over gods creation during walks, chased deer and other creatures repeatedly and even got out a few times galavanting across the country side and woods all the while knowing I was chasing after him. I even recently found out he had been shot (!!!!!) with a shotgun in a past life!! It has been crazy.
Last Thursday, I woke up to find Bubbie pretty lethargic. He didn’t come say hi to me and he didn’t even want his food. I didn’t think much of it to be frank. After all, I just had him in the vet in June for a checkup and all was fine according to her. Came home at lunch and he hadn’t done much – including eating…came home after work and found him the same. Went to the emergency vet and within a matter of 30min I had to decide what to do. Remove the mass/spleen or not. Was there a lot of spread? Was it even cancer? Would he be in pain? 4 choices….with only 1 of them good. I have decided to go ahead and have the surgery. That Friday when I visited with him and he saw me he let out one of the most blood curtling sounds I have ever heard. I don’t cry..I’m a guy for gods sake but that sound…that sound I never want to hear ever again. Ever. I have never heard that from him and I never will again. I thought that the surgery was such a mistake after I heard that sound but everyone assured me, he would get better as I sobbed uncontrollably.
Other than some arthritis, Bubbie has fought through EVERYTHING. He too, will fight through this. Now 4 days post surgery, he is up, tail wagging when I come home, eating a bit and ready to go for, albeit much slower, walks. How much time does he have left? I don’t know. He isn’t in any pain and I can tell he still has that zest for life. He has tried to pull me on a few walks and has howled and barked a great deal at the deer. I know it sounds crazy but the $1500 I spent has meant the world for these last 3/4 days. I can see the life in his eyes again from time to time and I know he knows I’m here. If he only has a few more months, and he is just how he is today, I would probably do the same thing but believe me, I now understand what all of you had went through. I always thought Bubbie would take the life and death decision out of my hands but that just isn’t the case. I’m so sorry that you had to deal with this and I know now, that someday soon, I will have to make that same decision for him.
For those that decided against the surgery, I can completely understand why you chose the way you did. Hell, while I would do the same thing everytime, I’m still not sure what I did was the right thing either but I knew if I didn’t do sometihng, he was going to die and I wasn’t willing to give up the fight. I’m not sure Bubbie was willing either in my case. I wish this whole experience on no one who loves and cherishes their dog. It…sucks. I hope all of you find peace and I can tell, like has been pointed out by Robyn, all of us love our 4 legged pals more than life itself. You all have compassion in your hearts and you did what you thought was right – no matter what anyone says. At some point, we all, dogs included, die so by taking away any pain they had towards the end, it was right.
Thanks for all of this great information and godspeed to all of you.
Chris, thank you for your wonderful post, and my best to you and your beloved Bubbie. I totally support your decision to operate and give the two of you more time! As I pointed out in my article, they don’t know if it’s cancer until they take it out, so once they did they should have biopsied the mass to let you know if it was cancer and what kind it was. There are benign tumors that will kill just as fast as cancer because they burst.
As you know, most of the time these situations present as emergencies and you don’t have much time to decide. It’s heart-wrenching all around.
I am so sorry you felt so bad when Bubbie howled. Remember he could have just been anxious to be with you.
Murphy and I went through so much together, it was heart-breaking to lose her to cancer. They were pretty sure from how it presented on ultrasound that it was hemangiosarcoma, and because I am also an animal communicator, and hired others to help me, and we had such a close bond, I knew her choice was no surgery. It gave us quality time together without the rigors of surgery.
The truth is, no one but you can decide if surgery was correct. It clearly was for you, even if Bubbie had not survived it. I am so glad you have more time together! Enjoy it! Our companions are worth it, because love is worth it.
Keep us posted.
My blonde cocker Poppy-Boy is 13. He has been on CHF (heart meds) for about 2 years. Vetmedin is awesome. He collapsed with the white gums etc 2 weeks ago. The mass is 6cm (abt 3 inches) and a fine needle aspiration biopsy showed no cancer. I know it is not too accurate, but I wanted to try that first.
After being in hospital for 10 days to recuperate, he had another bleed. He could stand after the 1st bleed but is now immobile and on a pee pad. What happened to the legs? He went from 13.2 kg to 10.7 in the 14 days & has no appetite. Strangely, before the second bleed, on Day 9 he ate a whole tin. After the bleed-out on Day 10, he is weaker and is now fed by syringe. I can live with the USD$2500 treatment so far, but I think this is the end.
I will go to the vet tomorrow. I think it may be sadder if I put him through a splenectomy and he dies from the post-op OR he recovers paralysed on a pee pad. Yet, it is so cruel and wrong to have to die from a benign tumor! Do old guys do well with the splenectomy?
I even hoped he would pass on with the second bleed; up to me, it is so hard to let go.
Bless all of you who spent your hard earned money on your boys & girls. They loved us with their lives, we only do what is right.
Reply
Hello, Marge, I am just now seeing this post on your cocker, Poppy-Boy. I am so sorry you are going through this together. My understanding of the benign tumors is quite similar to the cancerous ones: regardless, the tumor will eventually rupture, and that will be it without a splenectomy, and possibly even with, as you know. Unfortunately our bodies just can only go on so long. The white gums are apparent when there is a bleeding episode, and from my experience that was the end of it, or pretty close to it. Benign or not, those tumors eventually rupture.
I certainly understand how hard it is to let go. The decision isn’t easy, and shouldn’t be, because after all, we are geared to being alive. Despite the rumor mill, your veterinarian should be a good partner in all this, and if necessary, can help make the transition peaceful and not cold and sterile, as some people assume.
My experience with the appetite, too, is that when a bleed is in process, lethargy and lack of appetite are part of it. It is a good question if the leg issue is temporary from the bleed or if the tumor is further impairing his body.
While age is a factor in the surgery, a veterinary surgeon could help you with that decision. My understanding from a number of vets is that despite the assurance that the splenectomy is a moderate surgery, the old ones simply do not do well afterwards, and very few regain their strength. This is anecdotal evidence, but from vets who have dealt with the aftermath. I do know that for my girl an emerging heart condition, her age, and her arthritis made surgery problematic for us, as well as underlying bronchial issues (she had a bronchial infection at the same time as the tumor, and it took some weeks to clear up, so she was never a good surgical candidate, and in fact clearly expressed her own wish in not having surgery, a wish I honored).
Let us know how you do. Thoughts and blessings to you.
Robyn
How comforting it is to find this blog. Our boy, Woody, who will be 11 in 10 days, has been diagnosed with a mass on his spleen. Our food bandit with an insatiable appetite woke up on Monday and turned his nose up to breakfast, unheard of! He became very lethargic so we brought him to the vet and did blood tests and ex ray and was suspicious of a mass. Last December he had his rear toe removed due to a mast cell tumor and he has had a fabulous year. In September he walked a 5k cancer walk in honor of my daughter’s young friend.
We waited to have a radiologist do an ultrasound and that could not be done until Saturday,
So we started giving him predisone 2 times a day and a Chinese herb that is supposed to slow down bleeding. We started this palliative care Thursday waiting for ultrasound. Even with his mast cell history the ultrasound does not lead us to believe it is cancerous. His bloating has greatly reduced and his appetite and energy is drastically improved. I know that mast cell can take on the internal organs, my gut tells me it is cancer, He has rallied, is eating, and is a bit slow after his tough week but alert and lovable and the best boy one could hope for. We took him home after the ultrasound today for the kids to say goodbye and we now have an appt. at 8:00 on Monday to euthanize. This could even be a hematoma from jumping down. It is 3:40 in the am and he sleeps with me under the covers as he has done for the last 10 years. Tomorrow is supposed to be our last day together. It is inconceivable, if I knew he could stay like this there would be no dilemma but to think that he could start a bleed and potentially die a violent death is consuming. I know n my heart that surgery is not the right choice and so I continue to pass the hours until we say goodbye …… Or not?
Susan, I am so glad that our journey is helping you. My sympathy to you on the sad times coming with your boy, Woody. I am grateful that I had some weeks with Murphy knowing I was losing her, and still it hurts every day. I can’t imagine how terrible and shocked you feel.
Susan, ‘or not’ is an answer for you, and one I urge you to consider with your vet. I was made aware of the end signs with Murphy–the pale gums–and we didn’t get there for almost six weeks, although the last three days she was clearly rapidly declining, and not in pain.
Here’s what I learned. They don’t know what kind of cancer it is, or if it’s cancer, unless they operate and take it out, but surgery is really hard on the older ones, and they can give you some pretty good guesses. Also, sometimes these tumors bleed and cause the inappetance and lethargy until the bleed closes itself off and they perk up. Once it gets to the point of no return, there should be some sign the vet can give you (the pale gums with Murphy, whatever it is). While splenic cancer is a horrible way to die, Murphy only gradually got there, and once it became clear that her spleen was rapidly failing, she and I together decided enough was enough.
What I am saying is, we knew the end was there when it was there, and she didn’t suffer because we didn’t let it get to that point. That means your boy could revive and feel fine for days or longer, but you’d need to be prepared to rush him to the ER when it occurred, and in the meantime also hospice care, such as subcutaneous fluids, whatever meds are appropriate, tempting foods, and cuddles. Murphy could have gone on another day or so or only hours, but at that point it was clear that she would not survive beyond that, and she could easily suffer greatly before she passed.
You have many choices before you, and only you and your family and Woody can ultimately decide. How much time do you need to say goodbye? How much time does he need? If he’s perked up, is everybody still ready?
You will know when it’s at the point to say goodbye, whatever reason makes sense to all of you. We are sending love and supportive thoughts to all of you. Comfort in community. Blessings to you and yours. And remember, grief is good, it reminds us that we loved.
Greetings,
I was wondering if this dialogue is still open?
We will always welcome comments and stories from readers, especially those are concerned about their animal families. Please share. Your stories matter. Thank you!
Robyn, Thank you so much for your blog and I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m going through the same thing with my 15 year old Lhasa, Ruffles. We have had him since he was 4 months old and he is our baby. He was diagnosed in December 2011 with the tumor on his spleen. The vet said to take him home and make him comfortable. We went to another vet who put him on heart meds that same week , she did not mention the tumour nor did we because we had yet to see an x-ray. We took him back to her a few weeks ago (SEPTEMBER 2012) and she did an x-ray for his heart and saw the tumor (we were still hoping the first vet had been mistaken). She showed it to us and said she didn’t think it would cause his demise/death. He felt good, eating good and still our sweet baby. Two nights ago I was up with him all night, he was pacing had gas trying to poop and could not. I was frantic not wanting him to be in any pain and not understanding how this could happen so fast. I had to wait until morning, no night vets available. We took him to our orginal vet who found the tumor in Dec. 2011. They x-rayed him again and said it was pushing against his colon. They gave us Metronidazole (for bowel irritation) which relieved his gas. That was three days ago and he is eating,drinking and back to his sweet playful self. I’m giving him pumpkin to help him “go”. My dilemma is the same…what to do? I can’t stand to put him down when he feels good but I don’t want him to have pain and no one to help him if it happens, especially at night. I’m with him all of the time, he has slept with me for these 15 years every night (my husband works nights) and Ruffles is my best friend, my/our baby. We have taken him with us everywhere all of these years, if he couldn’t go, we didn’t go. Please give me any advice you might have. Thank you, Linda
Hello, Linda, and thank you for your condolences and your note about Ruffles. I was out of town and just received this message. How is Ruffles now? Here is what I know about these tumors. They only know if it’s cancer if they operate. An ultrasound can refine the diagnosis, but even that is a guess. Sometimes what looks benign isn’t once it gets to pathology. The thing is, no matter what, surgery is an extremely difficult process for an older dog. If it was cancer like Murphy had he would be gone already. If it’s a slow-growing cancer, you clearly have had more time. If it’s just a benign tumor, you have until it ruptures. They will have good days and bad ones. Once the tumor gets to the point where it causes major problems, such as discomfort or pain or in Murphy’s case, it bleeds heavily and the gums go pale–that’s the point you know you have no time left. But they can have periods where they do well. The question is for all of you as a family to decide what is working and what is not. Our vet told us he had a cat with a tumor for years. Each situation is different. If Ruffles were my dog I would do what you are doing: keep him comfortable and happy and enjoy every single minute, because we never know when we are going to lose a loved one, and it will always be too soon. When the tumor goes it will go quickly, which is why so many people are surprised: if it’s cancer it is usually at the end before anyone knows. Here you have advanced knowledge of a condition that will most likely kill him at some point, but not yet, unless things have changed in the last few days. You can decide as a family: what is a quality life, for Ruffles, for you, and what does it look like? What does a lack of quality look like? If he goes into a decline and doesn’t snap out of it, there’s a sign. If he doesn’t eat for a few days and picks up again, great! You see what I’m saying? Nothing is fatal until it IS fatal. Until then, it’s life, sometimes not real fun, sometimes amazing. I am an intuitive and I work with energy: Murphy defied the odds and was chasing her brother around the garage until the last three days. Spend time with Ruffles and enjoy every single minute. Get a feeling from him how he is doing. Honestly, you will know when he gets to the point where it is too much. Trust me, you will know. Much love to all of you, and please keep me posted. LOVE LOVE LOVE, there is nothing else but LOVE! Robyn
My girl Honey is going through this same exact diagnosis. My hubby and I decided against surgery as well. He works away, so we are hoping she makes it till he comes home, then we are going to euthanize her. We’re moving soon and have made this decision because she’s already been suffering with arthritis for over 2 years, she’s old for her breed, so surgery would be a hard recovery, and like you say in your article, not even a promise of quality of life. We don’t want to put more stress on her with the move, she’s only ever lived here, so we think it’s better to put her to rest here, the only home she’s ever known. I’m going to miss my fur baby, but she’s already showing signs of it progressing, and she was only diagnosed a week ago. I’m happy that I came across your blog post, I know now I’m not the only one who’s made this decision, although it doesn’t make it any easier, watching my fur baby fade.
Tina, thank you for writing. I am so sorry about your girl, Honey. Making the tough decisions is agonizing, I know. Your love for her and each other will help you all get through this. There is a lot to be said for familiar territory. Do consider, though, if she might be intrigued by a new place because you’ll be there with her. These poor guys do not last long with this diagnosis, that is true, and it is always heartbreaking. I’m glad the blog post helped you. Yes, we are in it together. We don’t put conditions on our love, do we? We just do the best we can, as you are. Peace. Robyn
Robyn,
Thank you so very, very much. You have really put a smile on my face today.
I do not know you, but I truly feel that you are an absolutely wonderful person.
God Bless.
Patti Sammons Mens
Hi, I just wanted to add that our vet had been to our house just ten days ago to check Bud. She said that he was in very good health except the arthritis and she saw him living another two years. My goodness, how fast things change…:-( . Thanks again. Patti ( Atti…is a mistake key punch), sorry).
Hi Patti and thank you for writing about your chocolate lab, Buddy. I am so sorry he is ill and hope you and your family can enjoy more time together. As you discovered, these tumors can show up suddenly, and that is usually how they do: a dog who was healthy is suddenly ill. The only sure diagnosis is through surgery, although an X-ray and ultrasound can help pinpoint the kind of tumor on a spleen. For example, the way Murphy’s presented itself, it was most likely hemangiosarcoma (it appeared to be encased), which can never be beaten, only slowed down, and then only for a short time, if that. Surgery seemed cruel to me, and she did not want it. Sometimes the tumors are not cancer or a different kind of cancer, but vets who are regular vets, as opposed to a lot of surgeons, who do the surgeries and perhaps not long-term ongoing care, tell me that from their experience the older dogs simply do not recover their vigor. So splenic surgery anecdotally seems to be very hard on these old guys.
Murphy was vigorous for some weeks after her diagnosis, and when the spleen bled badly and her gums went pale, her entire mouth and tongue did as well. There was absolutely no mistaking it.
Also, she did have times when the tumor apparently bled, which made her tired. This would go on a few days, and then she’d rally and be perky again. This may be what Buddy is experiencing, along with what sounds like constipation. I would ask your vet about that, because relieving that would help, as it certainly does with people.
Buddy will help you know. If it continues for several days without eating and he declines rapidly, you’ll know. His vet may be able to make him comfortable, and that matters, too. For most of her illness Murphy had some bronchial issues, so she was on antibotics until the end, and that finally cleared up. Which is to say, other things could be going on that can be treated and give Buddy some happy time with you, and you with him.
I admire your strength and determination and your love for him, and his for you. These tumors are shocking: healthy one day, and gone a few days later is quite common. I also know people whose dogs and cats lived a long time with a tumor, and they used things like belly bands to support them.
If you trust your vet, stick with her. She will be your best medical guide through this. Every animal is different. Except Buddy has you for a loving member and advocate. That is awesome! Be well and much love to you and yours.
Robyn
Hi, Robyn.
Thank you very, very much for your mail.
Bud had a pretty good day yesterday. He seemed to be taking a turn for the better. I stayed with him alot, trying to let him know how much my family and I love him. I kissed him, and held him, while I cried and cried. He just looked at me, giving me his paw over and over again.
My husband came home from work, and was very happy to see Bud had a smile on his face. My son came home from his vacation job, he is a university student, and he was also happy to see Bud outside while my husband was bar-be-cueing. Bud came inside with us and rested while we ate. My husband took a few little bites of the meat and a piece of french bread outside for Bud. Bud followed and happily ate everything. He came back in for a while, and then my husband took him out to try to get him to void and have a bowel movement. He did, praise the Good Lord, he did. He came back in and went to sleep in the dining room lying next to my husband, who was on the computer. My son and I watched television. Bud was constantly having ‘wind’, and we laughed thinking that that would make him feel much better.
As I already mentioned yesterday, Saturday night and Sunday night I had slept on the couch so that I could check on him during the night. I told my husband that I would, again, do the same thing. I was totally exhausted but Bud is worth it. The vet was coming over tomorrow to take blood, so we would know more.
A little before midnight, we all noticed that Bud was breathing faster than normal. We checked his gums and they were pink and normal. We thought that he was just to warm laying on the carpet. We tried to get him to go to the garage to go in his bed, but he would not. He did not want us to bother him. I laid next to him and rubbed his belly, thinking he had pain from the ‘gas’.
At 1a.m. My husband went upstairs to take a shower and go to bed. A few minutes later, I turned the lights back on and looked at Bud. He could not catch his breath. He looked at me for help. I ran upstairs and got my husband out of the shower. Bud needed help. My son came downstairs, and we all decided it was time. My husband called several vets (it was after 1a.m.), and finally we were told to bring him. I went to stand in the kitchen, I just could not see Bud suffer. So my husband and son picked him up and put him in the car. We drove him to the doctor, a 20 minute ride. He was calm, he knew that we were going to help him.
The vet was fantastic. She also had owned a lab who had the exact same thing happen, but she operated on him, but he died two months later, also 13 years old.
She said that Bud was going into shock. There was no bleeding but the blood vessels were cutting off and he had pain. We loved him and said good-bye while she put him out of his misery. He was so peaceful, no more pain. We brought him home with us, to bury here where always lived and loved.
I hate to think that he had pain the few hours before, and we just thought it was ‘gas’. The vet said that when he had a bowel movement earlier that evening, it might have pushed the spleen one way or another, causing trouble.
But now Robyn, he sleeps, he rests, he is in heaven.
Afterwards, I could not fall asleep, but all of a sudden his beautiful face came to me, he was smiling. He is ok now, no more pain.
God bless him. He knows that we loved and will always love him. We hurt now, but he does not and that is the most important.
Thank you for your time.
Sincerely,
Patti Sammons Mens
Patti, my condolences to you and your family. I know how much you are hurting today, having lost your beloved Buddy. What a wonderful thing, isn’t it, to love an animal so much, and know that they love you, too?
Thank you for letting me know, and for sending the lovely picture. Know that your love was so strong and deep that you could give him a few more days and help him out when it was no longer possible to live comfortably. Do not feel guilty that you didn’t know his end was upon him so quickly. That’s a tough thing even for those who see it every day. The important thing is that you recognized it and helped him, and you know you did the right thing.
Thank you for sharing your story with us, and know that the world is a better place because your family is here, you loved your beautiful Buddy, and he loved you. Loving thoughts to you and yours, and my best always. Robyn
Hi, Robyn.
Thank you so very, very much for your kind mail.
I haven’t even heard from my sisters in America since Sunday when I sent them a short mail about what had happened to Bud. I know in my heart that they are both extremely upset with me because my family and I choose not to let Bud have the surgery.
I feel in my heart that Bud did not want surgery. He just had surgery in December, having his testicles removed because of a growth (no cancer) on them. I did not want him to go through that again.
Like I said, I believe that he is truly resting in peace.
Sincerely,
Patti Sammons Mens
Patti, I am sorry you have not heard from your family. I, too, suffered because people I thought cared did not respond like I thought they would. That is all part of the grief process. I have tips on that if you go to my site: http://www.bridgingtheparadigms/com and click on Animal Works. One article on grief, one on signs and symbols. I hope they help.
Only you and your immediate family could determine what was right for Buddy, with your vet and with as much input from Buddy as you could get. And you did that. Be at peace. And take some time today and in the coming days to celebrate: You had a wonderful life with him, and he with you. That is what matters. You lived from your heart. I am grateful that there are wonderful families like yours. I grieve with you today. Be well, my new friend!
Hi.
We have a chocolate lab, Buddy. He is just a few months short of becoming 13. He is our life, our best friend. He does have arthritis in his back legs. We have walked him so many, many times over the past 12.5 years. He just never had enough. During the past 4 -5 months, he has slowed down with walking, just not far any more. The vet said to let him do his thing, let him decide just how far. We did exactly that. This past Saturday I decided to let him take me where he wanted to go. It was really a good walk. Later, my husband, son and I sat outside to have lunch. Bud was with us, he knew that there was always something for him while we were eating. He is crazy about french bread. He even shared a little bit of ice cream with us that day. He was doing so good, playing tug-of-war with my son, he was rolling in the grass, he would get up and move away when someone tried to take his toy from him. He was so happy. And then all of a sudden, he got up, and walked 6 meters over to the basketball goal in our yard. He laid down and stayed there. My son walked over and played some basketball, but Bud continued to lay there. A half an hour later, my husband told Bud that it was time to get up and go to his bed in the garage. Bud did not get up. My husband left the garage door open and came inside. Twenty minutes later Bud was still in the same spot. My husband picked him up (85 lbs, not fat), and took him to the back yard where my son was. Later on we seemed to be feeling better, but not 100%. So, we called our vet, but got another one on the line, due to the fact that ours started maternity leave just the day before. My husband and son took Bud to the vet, she did x-rays and an ultra sound….a tumor on his spleen the size of a tennis ball, there was no bleeding, but there was a good bit of air and gas in his stomach. My son called, crying and upset, asking what we should do. I wanted Bud to come home, he can not and will not go through surgery. The vet gave him 6 different injections, 2 of which were cortizones. My husband brought Bud home. He and I took turns waking up every 2 hours and going in to the garage, where he sleeps, to check on him. On Sunday morning, he looked as tired nd ready to leave us. We decided to give him until the afternoon and let the vet come. Our vet and the vet that saw Bud called us. Our vet understood that we were totally against surgery, due to Bud’s age. The other vet suggested that we carry him outside so that he could urinate. My husband put him on the grass, and he got up and walked a few meters. He even played with his toy. He slept most of the day, keeping an eye open watching what we were doing. When we came in to eat supper, he followed us and laid in the kitchen to sleep, for a few hours. I finally got him to walk 20 meters with me in front of our yard, just to pee. I slept downstairs on the couch last night, and checked on him every 2 hours. He lifted his head and wagged his tail when my husband and son left for work this morning. He did eat and drink some this morning, but rests afterwards. Now what, I just do not know. I am going to call the vet and askher to come sometime this afternoon just to see what she thinks. His breathing is good, the color of his gums is pink, but his stomach is still somewhat swollen and he has not had a bowel movement since Saturday around noon. We don’t want him to suffer, but is it really time….? Our yongest son is in America studying, so he is really sad not being able to be here.
Thank you for your opinion.
Atti
Hello, Michelle
Thank you for your note on your beloved dog. I am so sorry to hear of your coming loss. It is always hard, especially when we are so closely bonded to our animals, as you are with him. As they age, many things can happen, just as with people. With a splenic tumor, as I know, the end is inevitable. As in all cases of animal decline, we need to look at quality of life and prepare ourselves to say goodbye. Some of the things we use to determine how well they are doing include behavior changes, from eating to comfort. One thing I would look at is why is he whining and what does that mean to you, his family? Perhaps it’s pain elsewhere, which seems like your vet is acknowledging with the Rimadyl, an anti-inflammatory that helps with pain. As we get older we get aches and pains, whether from arthritis or joint/bone changes, many reasons. Your dog may also be depressed and anxious because you are: we are all sensitive to family changes, even our animals. Murphy was not in pain with the tumor, but it did eventually overwhelm her, and there were times when she was tired, when it would bleed a bit and then stop bleeding. Here’s the thing: you can say goodbye before he is gone, sit down and spend time with him and tell him how sad you are, how much you will miss him, and just wait for him to respond. Time together is what counts. Rest assured that you gave him a wonderful life, as he gave you one with him. Comfort and reassurance will help. You will know when it is time: either his distress or obvious discomfort or acceptance. I hope this finds you before you leave for your trip, so you know that others understand your grief and are sending you loving support. I wasn’t ready for Murphy to go even though I had a lot of time to prepare myself, and then, at the end, when the tumor was obviously winning, there was nothing more to do but say goodbye. She might have held on for a few more hours, but she didn’t have to. Whatever choice you make I know you will make it out of love and respect for your dog and your family bond. Nothing can change that, even if you are out of town when it occurs. Love really does continue after death. My sympathy and support to you. Please let me know how you are doing.
I cannot find words to describe what you have done for me. I finally feel that my decision. Was thhe right one after nearly one month this friday. You have put everything I have been feeling into words and for that I thank you. And as for Suzy know that you are not alone in your experience. Because we had to make a decision so sudden in a short period of time …..I feel as though I was pushed in a direction in a way against my will but only because I wanted another option than surgery and.then. potentially cancer. I now believe the vet was just trying to lead me to the right decision. I hope you find healing as I have from this blog. Robyn things are meant to be and I was meant to cross paths here with you. A great big hug right back at you. Thanks so much.
Teresa, I have been out of town until today and not available. I was so happy to hear that my blog helped you, and that you are feeling more at peace with the loss of Hunter. Our grieving doesn’t end, but eventually we remember the wonderful times we shared with our lost loved ones, and that helps. I am so grateful that we could help you. Please know that your kind words helped me as well. That is what community it: reaching out to help each other. Be well.
My heart goes out to all of you. I lost my bestfriend “Hunter” a 9 yr old german shorthaired pointer to a splenic tumor almost a month ago. I had a similar experience to Suzy regarding the vet kind of leaving me with no other option but to put him down. The experience was so sudden I actually had to rush to the animal hospital from work to meet my husband and to children and my dog there….not only to walk into a worldwin of information in about 5 minutes ending with…”so what is your decision surgery or euthenise him. We thought he may have had food. Poisoning. From his dog food that was going around in our area. My dog too was just fine up until that day…never missed a meal and kept on playing. This whole experienc has been trematic for me and I cannotstop going back and forth in my head whether. Or not I made the right decision. Yes I felt like I had to play God…..I felt rushed because the vet said he was sufferingand hemmoraging to death. There are the what if racking my brain. All I remember thinking in that moment is an animal should nothave to go through this……I cannot put him through this invasive surgerg and tthen potentially try to fight cancer ……for meto have him longer. Robyn…..the ending of your article about what do you call peolpe who say no to cancer ..”compassionate “. That helped me be at peace for the first time. This is the hardest thing Ive gone through yet….Im trying to be strong for my kids so they know everything is alright but so hard for me to hold back how I really feel. Thank you all for sharing. Please exuse my typos and mispellings I am writing this from my cell phone. I will continue to read and post to help others as well as help me.
I meant ” no to surgery”
Teresa, my heart goes out to you on the lost of your best friend Hunter. Know that I and many others who have suffered these horrific losses understand and grieve with you. I am sorry it happened so quickly for you. The one thing I am grateful for is that we accidentally discovered Murphy’s illness and had time to deal with the coming loss. We would have known something was wrong as it progressed, but she also had bronchial issues and simply rapidly aged as she declined. For most people, the disease is at the end stage before they even know it is upon them. I know how horrible you feel. From what I understand when it presents in crisis like that there really is no hope, and they operate simply to have time to get their heads around it and say goodbye. If I could hug you I would. You were devastated and thinking of the family and of your beloved Hunter, and you absolutely did the most compassionate loving thing possible. Bless you for your strong loving heart. I understand the doubts. Recognize them and let them go. You did the right thing and thank goodness you had a vet who recognized what was going on. Some push the surgery without making it clear.
What horrifies me is that some of these cancers and other diseases are caused by interrupting our animals’ hormone process before they have a chance to sexually mature: yes, early spay/neuter is a leading cause of these problems. Let’s spread the word about that so families get to choose when to do this procedure, if ever. Say no to everyone who insists on it. Above all, riht now, grieve. I lost Murphy in March and it still cuts deep. Thank you for responding.
And how do you know it is the right time or day to put them down. He seems relatively happy-eating, drinking, going for walks, wagging his tail, eating his favorite treats…
Hi Tina
Quality of life is a huge issue. He SOUNDS great! I know some dogs can have problems with swollen bellies and so on and do fine for awhile. I’m not a vet. I know the signs of this cancer because I lived through it. But if dogs are eating, enjoying life, as Murphy was, we just took it easy and enjoyed our time together.
Have a heart-to-heart with your vet and family and Sypher.
And here’s a link to one of the smartest vets out there: Nancy Kay DVM and her blog at Speaking for Spot. She has a lot of articles on canine cancer and care issues.
http://speakingforspot.com/blog/tag/nancy-kay-dvm/
When they are clearly miserable and no longer enjoying anything, too lethargic to move, or in crisis, those are good reasons to rush to the vet and see what’s going on.
Keep me posted. Check out Nancy Kay.
mine did too she said he was dying to me and scared me to death that the tumour would rupture and i panicked and against my soul let her kill him,,i hate myself now for it,, i should have ran out of the ets with my dog in my arms now that i look back,,i was in shock i went in thinking he had a ear infection as the symptoms were just one vomit for breakfast,,and she says he,s dying with a spleen tumour,,whaaaaaaaaaa i,m so broken hearted ,,,
Yes, Suzy, of course you are broken-hearted, you lost yur beloved dog under horrific circumstances. I would be in the same place as you are, except we got lucky, if luck you’d call it, and discovered the tumor early, before it overwhelmed Murphy, like it did your dog in the end. It’s hard enough to say goodbye, harder when it’s suddenly upon us and we had no idea it was coming. You did nothing wrong. Grieve, and love yourself. You loved your dog and did what was best at the time. What a tremendous gift you gave him, and yourself, to make sure he didn’t suffer. Be at peace with your loving heart.
I am currently going through the ugly splenic tumor with my dog Sypher. He is almost 14 yrs. old and the tumor has grown significantly over the past week. His abdomen is swollen and hard, yet he is not showing many signs of unhappiness. We, as a family, have discussed our options and I am the only one teetering back and forth on the surgery. I keep thinking of the what if’s? I have read that 2/3’s of the time a splenic tumor is malignant and yes you are so right about putting them through the surgery to yet still struggle with and when the cancer will strike again. I am having a difficult time emotionally of thinking of putting him down when he seems happy still, but at the same time I do not want him to experience the pain of the internal bleeding when the tumor ruptors. You say you know the signs now-what do you mean?? It is soo hard to let him go…
Tina, my heart goes out to you and to your family, and your beloved Sypher. I would certainly recommend taking him in for a veterinary consult. My experience was the belly got swollen and hard on Murphy when the tumor bled, but the episode passed in less than an hour. The blood coagulates and the bleeding stops, so the swelling and hardness disappear. She also panted. At the end stages you might see blood coming out of the mouth. Murphy’s gums turned pale–you can’t miss that symptom. The gums are literally blue-white. If it progresses more than that, you will see it get ugly is what I was told. You will know before it gets there, as the symptoms increase. It can change within an hour. Murphy also raidly lost weight: she lost a pound in the last two weeks, a lot for dog who was only 20 pounds her entire life. Also loss of appetite and lethargy from the bleeding are also signs. In the end she vomited what she tried to eat, and we knew after not rebounding in a day that the cancer had spread to her gut.
I was told that these splenic tumors in the older guys are cancer more than 90% of the time. If you had an X-ray or ultrasound they could give a pretty good guess, not sure if you did that. And even if it’s not cancer, a benign tumor will bleed and eventually rupture. So I know how you feel, it’s a hard call either way. A lot to go through if it’s cancer, because they won’t survive, but what if it isn’t? We consulted a veterinary surgeon, who sees it all the time, and she agreed that it was most likely cancer. Of course they will never know without surgery.
The thing is, I was told by two vets that the old guys simply don’t recover well from this surgery, and no one knows why. Guessing tying all the blood vessels off and so on, even though they claim the surgery isn’t that hard, it is hard to rebound from. For Murphy it would have been careful monitoring and 3 days in intensive care, and then a week to 10 days helping her around the house and carrying her outside. A lot to put her through for a few extra months, if that, and no cure.
I understand how hard it is to let a beloved animal go. The sad reality is they just don’t live long enough. As an intuitive and as a family member, I spent time talking with Murphy about what she wanted, and she was clearly against the surgery. She had been through a number of surgeries during her life and was convinced she would not survive it. Watching her rapidly decline and age convinced me she was right, although I had already agreed with her. Surgery was just not an option for our family. We had a great life together, and this was something we couldn’t beat. Together we discussed quality of life, and she preferred being as hale and hearty as she could be until the end.
I hope it helps to know we’re sending love and courage to you, even though it is clear you have that in abundance. Let me know if I can help more.
Please see your vet as soon as you can for an evaluation. I was told they do rebound from these episodes, but I don’t know how long they last. The only one Murphy had was under an hour. I was also told that many animals get big bellies from the tumors, and other things, and some times a vet can help with that, although I don’t know how.
Keep me posted. I’ve been there. We care.
hi sorry for your loss so sad,i went thru the same thing, but i euthaznized him against my will on the advice of a vet i do not believe in now,,unfortunatly there is nothing i can do the dog is gone dead,,my question to u is how long did it take for your dog to decompose after the tumour cancer when he died,mine only lsted a day strangley ?
Suzy, I am so sorry for your loss. My condolences to you. We discovered Murphy’s tumor accidentally in late December, and she died in early March. It is uncommon to find these tumors accidentally–she was ill, we ran some tests which showed anemia and an infection, and when I insisted on an X-ray thinking it was her heart, they found the tumor. Not once were they able to physically feel it, but we did confirm it with ultrasound. I was told by the veterinary surgeon that most of the time the dogs present with an acute attack after seeming fine, or having what people consider slight symptoms, and they take them in and don’t know what is wrong. The diagnosis is shocking, because the dogs were fine, and suddenly dying, just like yours. I know exactly how you are feeling. I am not a vet and do not have the medical records, but this splenic tumor is fairly common, and vets do know the signs. Murphy vomited, too, in the last few days. I know how horrible this is, and am grateful I had time to adjust to the process, and did not lose her as abruptly as you did. I was told by several vets that dying from this tumor is horrific, and most likely there was nothing you could have done. When the tumor shows up late like that, with no symptoms until then, it is usually too late to help them, as the surgeon said to me. They operate to give the people time to say goodbye. You loved your dog, you took care of him, and you were with him through a shocking ending. No vet would recommend euthanasia unless they knew what they were facing. Bless you for your love. Understand, too, that feeling guilty is part of the grieving process. You did nothing wrong. Keep me posted on how you are doing.
I can’t believe this, I am going through the identical situation with my 13-year-old Pug, Murphy. Murphy was diagnosed over a year ago with a collapsing trachea that we have managed with daily cough meds. This January, the cough was out of control and through several trips to the vet and an xray, we found he had a splenic tumor. We took him to a specialist and had an ultrasound and pre-op blood tests and actually scheduled the outrageously expensive surgery that we could not afford. We would make do to save him. But the coughing did not stop, and the surgeon wanted him off all the meds that had any chance of making him better. Finally we took him to another vet for a second/third opinion, a vet Murphy had not seen since shortly after we adopted him eight years ago. It was this vet who suggested we don’t operate for all the reasons you have discussed; if it was cancer, he would only live a short while longer anyway and did we really want to put him through all of this? My husband came to the decision that we would not operate. Over the past couple of weeks his cough has calmed down immensely, but it is still there. I am now enjoying every day that I have with him not knowing if he will be here for a week or a year. I have had many dogs share my life over the years, but none like Murphy. He is just so special. I was on the internet this morning trying to figure out how much longer I would have him and trying to justify our decision not to operate and I’m torn with guilt and overwhelming sadness and I came across your Murphy’s story. Thank you for sharing and I understand completely what you are going through….
Karin, I am deeply touched by your story. So many parallels to my own story of Murphy. I lost her two weeks ago. I will tell that story in a few weeks, along with a frank discussion of what the end of a beloved’s life can look like, and how and why we came to our decision. Over the last few months I grieved as Murphy aged, as the tumor would occasionally bleed and she’d be tired, as she lost weight. I was so grateful that I had NOT operated on her. The surgery is ghastly, and I’ve had several vets tell me that the older dogs simply don’t do well afterwards. Murphy did not want surgery, and in the end, I did not want to do that to her: she wanted to experience the mystery of this last walk without the complication, and we shared it. In the last few days it was clear the cancer had spread to her gut, and when the tumor bled badly, I kissed her goodbye. I am grateful that the last thing she saw was me, nose to nose with her, holding her. Yes, absolutely take each day at a time as a gift. The truth is, you have a gift, you know that your life together is ending. That is a special, sacred time, a time to savor the quiet moments and the fun ones. We fought a lung infection for two months, so I know about the complications, the things that take us to the vet, and the surprises that can be there for us. Grieve with your pug, Murphy. And enjoy him. One thing we all need to remember is that just because so many options are, possibly, available to us, what is right for our families? Only you, your husband, and Murphy know that: frankly, in human and veterinary medicine, we have more technology available than perhaps we should, if we don’t weigh in realistic chances of survival and the pain and suffering that could be involved. Mercy and compassion should come first. I was told that animals can go on for a long time with a splenic tumor: it depends on what kind it is, and they really only know that after they remove it and do pathology on it. But Murphy’s ultrasound pinpointed the likeliest kind of tumor, and the surgeon I took her to had seen a lot of it. Yes, we feel guilty and sad at saying ‘no’ to a potentially life-saving procedure. I’m glad I didn’t ask Murphy to go through surgery. She was happy and pretty vigorous right up until the last few days. I am grateful for that. And so is she. Have this last trusted vet walk through what it could look like: I was grateful for that, because I knew what to expect. Keep in touch. We are community. All the best to you and your family.
Robyn,
I can’t tell you how much it means to me to hear from you. I am so deeply sorry for the loss of your Murphy and unfortunately I know all to well how it feels. We lost our Chow on last Tuesday, but we were with her until the end. My Murphy has good hours and not so good hours, but he is still alert and by my side. Please stay in touch as well, and I look forward to your next post!
Karin, oh my goodness, my condolences. My heart goes out to you and your family. Keep your Murphy close. The splenic tumor is an ugly thing. I never left Murphy alone for too long in those last few months: I was lucky to have a friend who could stop in and be here with her. When they’re tired you can figure it’s a bleed. When it’s close you’ll know. I know what it looks like now, and we’re here for you. I ask myself if it’s worth it to love an animal, when they are gone so soon, and then I think of her, and Alki, and Grace the Cat, and so many beloveds we share our lives with. Yes, it’s worth it.
Dear Robyn, Karin and everyone else out there with deeply broken hearts….I feel your pain so deeply….I wonder if it’s a good thing to be as sensitive as we are…..seriously….not a pragmatic bone in my body. I have been overwhelmed with vets and research and grief but hope to slow down a bit this weekend as to read this entire blog…..I don’t know when you guys say you were “there ’till the end…” if that meant you waited until the dog passed naturally or if you called in someone to kindly help them along. I am willing to do that and plan to, if it’s in God’s will, because I refuse to let my Murphy (Zolton) suffer as I know you wouldn’t and didn’t either. I have friends that say that the dog just passed on it’s own but I don’t know how far the animal was existing with pain to get to a “natural” passing…..I’m not judging what anyone does and I don’t know what you either of you did since I need to finish your beautiful blog, to date. And, Karin, am I reading this correctly: you just lost your Chow? And another dog is very sick? I’m so so sorry….my prayers and love to you both. If nothing more, these blogs certainly speak of a sense of community and the power of sharing that Robyn talks about in her work. We are all connected to the Source and S/HE/IT is GOOD. We will be blessed in the end.
Love,
Melissa
Yes, Melissa, my heart is broken. I wonder sometimes why we love, and the answer is always there in front of me. Because love matters.
Being sensitive is tough. But don’t you find that being you is worth it? Daring to love is a tough road, because we know we can always lose our loved one. But it’s better than to be cynical and uncaring, and lose the heart connection that heals tender hearts. As hard as it was to say goodbye to my beloved, I knew that it was selfish of me to hold onto her once it was clear there was no way back. We all have to do what is right for our unique situation. And for all of those involved in it. As I continue to write the story of our last days, I hope that people will find a way to say goodbye that values their lives and the life of the one leaving. It’s hard. We judge the value of our society by the depths of our compassion. Hang on to love. And community.
Ho man I am fighting back tears. I found you in a google alert and I’m interested in ways people deal with sick pets having lost a cocker spaniel last August due to cancer. We were successful in removing it the first time, then we opted for no surgery the second time. Cassie was about 15 and her heart couldn’t take it. We finally had to put her down. I think when we play God that has to be the hardest thing ever in your life you could ever do. People try to tell us we had no choice, but how do you fight off the pain that lingers for months and months?
Dorothy, my heart goes out to you. Even those of us who talk with animals and other beings, direct one-on-one, have trouble with the pain and the doubt. Truth is, it means you cared enough about Cassie to fall in love with her, and love can mean being there at the end. I lost my beloved Murphy two weeks ago, but I will continue this series for awhile, because I believe it’s a way we can all come to terms with grief and loss: to share it in community. I have been through the death and dying process with animals and people, and I know that what we ask people to suffer through, for now, we don’t ask our animal companions to suffer through. And that is right. What works for all of us is listening to our hearts, knowing our companions, and caring enough to stop when all hope is lost and only suffering is left. Yes, it’s extremely difficult. No, it doesn’t help to know you had no choice, except to remember that you did. You chose compassion: a great gift to your beloved, bless you for that. Here’s how you fight the pain, at least how I am fighting it: you had a wonderful life together, and your love for Cassie was greater than your desire to keep her lingering in pain, when there was no hope. If you didn’t grieve, you wouldn’t have a warm loving heart, and you clearly do. Grieving helps heal, ultimately. Forgive yourself. Cassie was lucky to have you. We all are.
perfectly said, Robyn. Just beautiful words….a balm for the broken hearted!
If words could heal a broken heart my Murphy would be here with me. If they help others, I am grateful.