Ace Is Back in the Therapy-Dog Game

Therapy Dog Ace Insisted on Lifting Weights During Nursing-Home Exercise Class

After roughly two months of weekly chemotherapy treatments, Ace is in remission and is now strong enough to resume his therapy-dog rounds. Yesterday we visited oncology, general-surgery and hospice patients at the hospital. This morning we visited a nursing home we hadn’t visited before.

Ace’s adoring fans were so glad to see him back in action! Nobody noticed that he’s still healing from biopsies and intravenous drugs. His hair has grown back enough that nobody knows he’s sick. He has lost some muscle mass, but only those of us who pet him every day are aware of that change.

In his normal, charming way Ace helped himself to a three-pound dumbbell then sat politely at the front of the nursing home’s exercise class. He carried it from resident to resident as if to say, “If I can do this, you can do this!” He’s such a character!

We were reminded today that patients easily see past the outward signs of illness and they look straight into Ace’s eyes. His wagging tail is enough to convince them that Ace is a vibrant and healthy visitor who will share his good cheer until he’s too sick to give any more.

Let’s Do The “Canine Lymphoma Remission Dance!”

Ace's new favorite pastime, surfing at the table.

Ace’s journey through canine lymphoma has been peppered with powerful words.

“Cancer” was the big one we didn’t want to hear, but we heard it and it brought its nasty friends “highly malignant” and “terminal” to the party. Then we pondered our treatment options and “chemotherapy” and “big bucks” became the words of the day.

Today’s blog post is brought to you by the word, “remission!” That’s the word they said today. That’s the word we’d been hoping to hear.

In general, dogs tolerate chemotherapy well and they experience few, if any side effects. Vets often bring on a full-court press of multiple drugs in high doses in hopes of bringing on a fast remission. In general, human cancer patients can’t tolerate this aggressive approach so it takes longer to get them into remission.

We scheduled six weekly treatments for Ace, but exactly every other week his white-cell count has been too low to tolerate more chemotherapy. This sounds worrisome, but the vets assure me that it just means that last week’s treatment is still working. They even comment that it’s saving us money. A $40 blood test is far less expensive than a big dose of chemo. We will continue weekly treatments until the cancer returns.

Without chemo we were told that we’d have eight weeks to three months with our boy. With it we’re shooting for eight months to a year. It still sucks, particularly because Ace is only 6, but it’s better than the alternative.

Prednisone is a beast. It has transformed Ace from a well-mannered dog who gets no “people food” to a ravenous cur who mugs 2-year-old children for their waffles. We listened when the vet told us not to increase his food, but MAN! It’s difficult to defend my children’s meals when Ace is taller, faster and hungrier than they are.

Ace is weathering the storm very well. When he stops acting like a happy dog, we’ll have some decisions to make, but for the time being it’s all systems go!

Sometimes Therapy Dogs Need R&R, Too!

Ace Plays The Role Of Foot Warmer In My Home Office

While Ace is doing well, he’s still on hiatus from his appointed rounds as a hospice therapy dog.

His immune system is very fragile from the chemotherapy, so he’s lying low and eating bon bons for a few more weeks. We’re missing our patients and yes, it has occurred to me to go without him, but that just seems so sad. He’s my buffer guest, my conversation piece, the jokester to my straight-man gig. I don’t know how “regular” hospice volunteers do it!

Unfortunately Ace flunked another blood test on Wednesday, so this was a n0-chemo week. That’s two out of five weeks in which his white-cell count has been too low for the treatment. The pros tell me not to worry, that it’s common and not indicative of whether he’s responding well to the chemo. My no-BS vet friends confirm that there’s no need to panic. They’d tell me if it was time to panic.

I thought we’d be back doing hospice therapy-dog work by now, but I’m going to have to be patient for a few more weeks.

My boy is in a good mood, though he’s showing side effects of Prednisone.  I’ve replaced his water dish with a mixing bowl and he polishes it off every day. He’s hungry, so he’s spending a good deal of time licking the kitchen floor (yay! no need to mop!…wait…ew.) and panting. He got me up at 4am the other day and made it outside, where he whizzed for a solid sixty seconds. Guess the mixing bowl of water has to go somewhere!

He’s lost ten pounds and he feels bony to me, but everything else — energy, temperament and general personality is the same. He’s my big lump of love who sheds all over the house and thumps his tail on the floor to tell me he loves me. Sometimes I forget that we’re going to lose him.

An Update on Ace’s Canine Lymphoma

Ace In The Hole

I’ve been away for a few days and I wanted to post a little update on Ace’s progress after the first week of chemotherapy for lymphosarcoma.

We’re pursuing the Wisconsin Madison Chemotherapy Protocol for Ace, who was recently diagnosed with lymphoma at age 6. The first week was fantastic and, as promised, that avocad0-sized lymph node on the right side of his neck shrunk down to normal size in about 36 hours.

He has had minimal side effects and is mostly acting normally. He takes his nine pills per day (Sucralfate and Prednisone) like a champ. Fortunately Ace is the World’s Easiest Dog to Pill. (Thank God!) He drinks more water, goes out more often and pants a lot. The Prednisone has increased his appetite and he’s going for things like ice cubes, which he never pursued before. This concerns me because he could get something that would make him sick, so we’re being vigilant.

What Price Love?

After a consultation with a veterinary oncologist and numerous lengthy conversations with our vet, we’ve found a chemotherapy protocol to try. Our vet will administer it weekly from her office and I’ll add weekly drop-offs and pickups for the dog to my “mom taxi” route.

We’re hopeful that we could get eight to 12 more months with Ace on this protocol and we’re optimistic about it. We started this morning and he’s at the vet’s office now while they observe him for a couple of hours.

This morning we visited our regular therapy patients and explained that Ace may miss some of his weekly visits if he’s not feeling 100%, but we’re optimistic about the treatment plan. I didn’t need to go into any more detail with people for whom hospice care is part of life.

I’d like to hear about your experience with the Wisconsin Madison protocol for canine lymphoma. Knowledge is power

Leashed Owners Are Welcome

Ace's Favorite Leash

Friends, it has to be said. Try to be a little bit sensitive when you’re at the vet. Not everyone is there because their brand-new puppy needs his first shots so he can finally go to the dog park.

Some people are on pins and needles, waiting to find out if their pet will survive. Others are gently restraining big, friendly dogs who desperately want to meet yours, but aren’t healthy enough to play today.

After several vet visits this week, we saw that some people just don’t get it.

• Don’t see a giant surgical incision like Ace’s and shout, “What happened to HIM?”
• Don’t play tug with the leash four feet from a sick animal.
• Bring something for your child to do so he’s not recreating Lake Pontchartrain with the water fountain.
• Don’t allow your crazy, untrained beast to come nose to nose with other animals.
• Don’t ask what’s wrong with him in front of two preschoolers.
• Never mention that your last dog died, from cancer or anything else.
• If we’re having a conversation, try to listen.

I watched a lady leave the emergency clinic with her dog in a large, cardboard box this week. Sometimes the vet’s office sucks.

Get a clue. Thanks.

Therapy Dog, Heal Thyself.

Ace With Me This Afternoon

We chose a shelter dog, a golden retriever mix, instead of a purebred golden because we hoped for the best of both worlds: a sweet and adorable “mostly golden” who lived a long and healthy life. While I still believe this is the right approach, we learned yesterday that Ace has not avoided the cancer that plagues the breed.

The tests showed “high-grade lymphoma” that it has not metastasized in his chest. An ugly-looking skin infection has erupted where he was shaved for the biopsy, but we’re confident that antibiotics will clear that up.

One vet told us 40% of golden retrievers get cancer. 40%!

I’ve promised Ace that we will not let him suffer. My dad always says that the time to stop intervening is “when he stops being a dog…doing dog things.” Today Ace has red, raw skin on his neck and he only wants to eat “97 degree chicken – no sauce,” but otherwise he is his old self. He even asked for a second lap around the block last night.

While we waited in the vet’s office, a woman came in with a very sick little dog. Ace, with his red, raw skin and flipping stomach, walked right up to her and put his nose on her knee. He’s a therapy dog and that’s what therapy dogs do. Therapy dogs heal.

Now what? We understand that, without any treatment at all, we’d have Ace for a few more weeks. If we went with just steroids we could have a couple of months. With chemo we could get up to 18 months more, but the expense is considerable and there are no guarantees. Now we’re weighing our options.

We have a meeting with an oncologist next week and, if she thinks it’s the way to go, we’ll start chemo right away. After all, Ace is only six and he means so much to so many people!

Thanks for the supportive comments and well wishes. They really, really help.