Introduction

Me-tas-ta-size:  1.  Pathology.   (of malignant cells or disease-producing organisms) to spread to other parts of the body by way of the blood or lymphatic vessels or membranous surfaces.

This is the word that came into my vocabulary last week in a very personal way when my Golden Retriever, Buddy, was diagnosed with hemangiosarcoma, a large, malignant tumor on his spleen which had metastasized to his liver.

It only took a minute for Buddy to go from a healthy, playful, albeit a little arthritic, 11-year-old Golden to standing mid-step, frozen, with a look of panic and fear in his eyes.  After getting him to our vet and having tests done, they found a large mass (read “tumor”) on his spleen that had ruptured and he had been bleeding internally.  However, it seemed that the bleeding had stopped temporarily. 

Being that this was a Saturday afternoon, our vet was unable to operate until Monday, and we were sent to an emergency veterinary hospital.   There, the only choices we were given was to have emergency surgery immediately – “And this is the estimate of your surgery, money up front, please” – a sum that was way beyond anything we could have come up with at a moment’s notice; euthanasia; or to take our boy home and pray that he would not bleed out before Monday when our vet could operate on him.  Saying many prayers, we took him home and watched him closely from Saturday night to Monday morning.  Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep, watching his every breath and move.  Sunday though was an amazing day.  He was weak but happy.  His tail was wagging, he had his ball in his mouth, and he wanted to play.  We kept him as quiet as possible and smothered him with love.  By Sunday evening my face was chapped from all his licking, but I didn’t care.  Neither of us could get enough.  It was a perfect day.

Buddy was still with us on Monday.  He had his surgery and was able to come home Tuesday.  His energy has picked up each day, and he often looks at my partner and I wondering why we’re not letting him do all the things he likes to do.  He doesn’t seem to understand the meaning of the word “recuperate,” and want to do a lot more than the vet suggested is advisable during this initial period. 

The lab results confirm the suspicious spots on his liver are malignant.  His life expectancy has shrunk to 1 to 3 months.

Now, there are those people who would say to just euthanize him now.  However, most of the “dog” people I know have agreed that each good day they have is a gift, and you do what you can – within your own personal means – to make sure your animal is comfortable and happy and has a good quality of life.  Being that I am on my third generation of Golden Retrievers, I have had to make that decision we all dread; I am capable of making that hard choice.  But I also believe that you can’t undo death; it’s final; and you better make damned sure that the time has come.  All my animals have let me know when they were ready, they’re tired or in pain.  At that moment I know what has to be done and I do the right thing. 

But now is not that time.

Right now as I’m writing, Buddy’s laying down next to me, his ball nestled between his two front paws, ready to play.   He nudges my elbow now and then to let me know he’s there and that he’s looking for some love and affection.  In my heart I know I am making the right choice.

Watching Buddy this last week, I’ve reflected on his life and everything that I’ve learned from him – in fact, from each of my dogs.  They teach me lessons on how to live life and how to love.  I don’t know how long I’ll have Buddy with me.  But instead of focusing on the cancer, I’m taking this time to concentrate on all the lessons that my boy has taught me and to apply what I’ve learned to how I approach my life.