The Ones in My Heart

Hot vax summer hasn't been what I thought it would be. 

I enjoyed my second stay on Tybee Island this summer, this time with my mom, sister, niece and her boyfriend.  The place we rented had beautiful porches that we could sit on and should have been an all together good time.  But my mind was on other things: Lola, Alec taking care of everything on his own, and the stupid vet not being able to digest which phone number she was supposed to call, though we filled out paperwork every morning with contact information.  

I think the worst was the night we ate at a place I had been really looking forward to and calls started coming through from the vet hours after they had been placed because of my shitty coverage, telling me that my dog was in duress.  
"She is hurting herself.  Her feet are injured.  It is not good for her to be here all day in the kennel.  We are changing our protocol for Lola and she will be the first dog in and the first dog out, everyday."

I would have taken that call.  I never liked the protocol to begin with, the ten, twelve hour days, "we'll call you when we call you" stuff, but they said it was so that they could serve as many sick dogs as possible.  All I could hear on my phone was "Lola is in duress." I came back to the table and tried to act natural; Alec was texting me telling me it was all in control.  I, on the other hand, decided not to be in control and drank 500 beers and stayed up until two o'clock in the morning with my niece.  I felt physically ill for a lot of the remainder of the trip, both from that night of drinking and my fear of what was happening to Lola.  Now, I'm grateful that they were willing to adjust their system to keep Lola safe.  

School started on Monday.  This might have been the fastest summer ever.  I had hoped to be tan and buff, but I rolled in on the first day in my rental car with wet hair and went straight to my trailer.  Lola made it through her half-way mark of radiation today.  She has eight more treatments to go.  Alec and I get up really early and prepare her for the ride.  We fast her each night and give her a million pills in the morning and flush her IV catheter with saline.  Then, I watch them drive down the street, thinking about how the majority of things that I love profusely are encapsulated in one compartment, driving slowly away.  

When I can't see them anymore, I go to work.  

Would You Still Remember Me?

I knew it was bad when I nearly started crying at the first sounds of Freebird while drinking a beer at 10:30 in the morning in a sticky, Hawks-inspired airport bar.   I’m going on vacation.

Lola started her radiation.  The first day went pretty smoothly, though we dropped her off at 7:20 in the morning and she wasn’t ready until 7:00 in the evening.  I was worried the whole day about rain.  Lola has gotten so intolerant to rain that we could easily crash the car and die if we were on one of the many highways that lead to the vet and rain began.  I also worried abut the daily anesthesia and fifty million medications she has to take. 

We worked out her transportation for the radiation.  Alec switched his schedule to nights and I rented a car for nearly three weeks so that I could get to work in the mornings while he dropped her off north of the city in our car and I could pick her up in the afternoons after work in the rental car while he works.  I told my second job that I can't start for a minute.  But, the rain. Watching the rain and being in fear and begging people to ride around with a thrashing dog for sixteen days is a lot. And, it's awful for her, on top of all the other stresses.  After dropping her off for her first day of radiation, I drove to Petco and bought the biggest crate that would fit in the back seat, secured it with carabiners and put a comfy blanket in the bottom. Then, I ordered a second one for the rental car.

I love picking Lola up from the vet.  She runs at me and drags the vet techs behind her, tail wagging.  I cry every time I drop her off.  

I am physically catching up with my family in Tybee Island, yes, Tybee again, two times in one summer. They went down to the rental I picked out months ago on Tuesday and I’m flying down there today.  It was the same price as renting a one-way car and Alec is off until Saturday, when I come back.  He is going to take her back and forth to her daily appointments.  I almost didn’t go at all, but I know Alec will take care of her.  But it has been a difficult decision and I am not sure I can even enjoy a "vacation" knowing what she is going through.  

And, I cried after dropping her off for radiation this morning.

Hot Winds on My Shoulder

We sat in the full parking lot of the animal hospital.  It's north of the city in an ugly, traffic-y area.  Because of COVID, everyone was waiting in their cars with their dogs until someone came out to get them.  And then, you watch your dog walk into this big building and just keep waiting in the car.  It was a pretty tremendous operation.  They finally took Lola into the hospital to see the radio-oncologist.  I was surprised to watch her skip in there with a total stranger, butt shaking and into the hospital.  She didn't even look over her shoulder at me.  Quite a while later, the doctor emerged.  

"I am really not familiar with that shot, we don't do it here."  she began.  
The shot.  Neat.  The reason why we got a referral here.  The thing that would blast out that tumor without anesthesia or radiation.  The reason we were now seeing a third vet in fucking Sandy Springs-middle earth.  I looked at the ground.
"I recommend surgery.  The surgeon will not be able to get all of the tumor and Lola will require sixteen radiation treatments to eradicate the rest of it after surgery.  I want to aspirate her spleen and ultrasound her organs to make sure it hasn't spread.  This is going to take a few hours, you guys should go home.  I'll get her on the surgery schedule, it could be one to two weeks and then we'll schedule radiation.  Go home.  We'll call you."

We were back at square one.  Three vets later and back at square one and my dog still had a tumor on her leg that was malignant.  I pulled out of the parking lot and bawled my head off. 

Alec started googling every vet in Georgia and even in Tennessee to try to find someone that could evaluate Lola for the shot.  I didn't care if Lola was on every vet's schedule in town, the way this was going it seemed like the only way anyone was going to every treat this fucking thing.  UGA couldn't get her in for six weeks.  Most vets didn't have the shot.  Finally, a vet in Chattanooga knew what we were talking about and was available to evaluate Lola on July 8th.  

The radio-oncologist called and said that we could pick Lola up.  The ultrasound came out clear and Lola was scheduled for surgery on July 6th.  I hung up the phone and looked at Alec.  We had a decision to make, get the surgery or delay even more to get Lola evaluated for the shot.  We drove back to the animal hospital.

The vet came out with Lola.  

"I will have the results in 24 hours for the spleen."  she informed us.  

"I looked into it too and we do do the shot.  But, the tumor is too big, so she is not eligible for it."

"Okay."  I responded.  

"She's on the schedule for surgery and I will call you with the results of the spleen aspiration."

In ways, I was relieved that the decision had been made for us regarding surgery vs. shot.  But I was horrified by the idea of my dog being put under anesthesia for sixteen days and experiencing radiation.  They said it would blister, and be painful.  Even two weeks after the end, it's bad.  But, it has a 90% survival rate for 3-5 years before reoccurrence.  

The timeline was getting crazy, too.  Lola will have to be dropped off by seven in the morning and picked up in the afternoon.  I start working on July 26th, from seven in the morning until three in the afternoon.  I am also returning to my second job three days a week.  Alec and I have one car. He rides his bike to work and I use the car to get to where I work east of Atlanta, in the mornings it takes twenty-two minutes to get there, but from the vet it would take forty-five, if something crazy didn't happen.  The vet is north of Atlanta, about 40 minutes from where we live if traffic is tolerable.  My second job is in Decatur.  Radiation wouldn't begin until around two weeks after surgery and would be scheduled for sixteen, Monday through Friday days.  It would start the day I was supposed to go on a vacation that is non-refundable at this point and last through my pre-planning week and into the second week of school.  

I was scared to death about my dog and literally grinding my teeth to nubs trying to figure out how we would get her back and forth for her radiation and keep both of our jobs.  And, I was again pacing around with my phone in my hand waiting again to find out if it had spread to her spleen.  

Days later, the vet called and said that Lola's spleen was clear.  I started crying again, out of relief.  And, last Tuesday, she had her surgery.  The tumor has been removed.  Her leg is bandaged up to her knee and she is on "house rest", meaning she can't run around or jump.  We have been spending a lot of time indoors, laying on the couch while I pet her.  

As horrible as this is, I am beyond grateful that the cancer did not spread.  Everything would be even more awful right now.  Honestly, it would be intolerable.