It began with a lump on her front leg. I thought it was something simple, such as a sprain, or even bad reaction to a bug bite. She was limping however, so an appointment that day with our local vet seemed like the most prudent action. As there were concerns as to the cause of swelling, we went ahead with x-rays of the leg; in my mind pushing back the possibility of the mention of cancer, there is no way that could happen to such a dog as Scooby (as hope was the only option). Then, looking at the x-ray, the vet began her canned speech of this is a typical view of what osteosarcoma looks like in dogs, and considering Scooby’s breed, the vet was leaning to bone cancer as a diagnosis. Hearing that news dropped me to my knees, both quite literally and figuratively. As many people can relate, it was one of those moments in time when you feel completely disconnected; your mind separates from the situation in complete shock, while still attempting to control your body, nod and shake your head, grin and bear the information.
After bracing from the news, taking time to consider all the possibilities, as it wasn’t a firm diagnosis, I scheduled the appointment with an oncologist local to the area. In discussing the worst case scenario of osteosarcoma, we decided to proceed with a bone biopsy to rule out valley fever as a cause for the lump, as Scooby has had a history and recovered previously from valley fever (a very common fungus to Phoenix, AZ).
What no one prepared me for was the difficulty and pain Scooby would endure when recuperating from the bone biopsy. Later, after discussing the pain and frustration for Scooby, they all concurred that this was common as the procedure causes strain on an area that is already sensitive, even so, my husband and I (and our oncologist) thought this was the best next course. After a week of adapting to the new pain in Scooby’s leg, we received the official diagnosis, the tissue revealed osteosarcoma.
During the limbo, where there is ultimately the highest of hopes, waiting and believing in miracles, that yes, this could just in fact be valley fever, hope balances on a very thin sword. And although you can make yourself believe that you are in fact prepared, and that you can handle whatever the diagnosis may be, there is such finality in hearing that word, ‘cancer’, for which one can never adequately prepare. Friends and family do their best to comfort, to console, to empathize, and to soothe; however, harboring such anguish, fear, dread, and grief for your loved companion are emotions and a path in which we all ultimately walk alone.
“Dogs are our link to paradise. They don’t know evil or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring–it was peace.”
– Milan Kundera
