A Heavy Heart

I'm not even really sure where to start this post, because the news is very sad and my heart is very heavy. I don't want to be overdramatic at all, but our dogs are obviously a really big deal to us, and yesterday we made a really hard decision about our little man Celtic. We decided to cancel his surgery.

This decision might seem like a strange one to our friends who know we would do anything for our dogs, but Chad and I are thankfully very much in agreement on this. While we didn't come to the decision easily, I think we're at peace with it as much as we can be under the circumstances. Since his CT scan a week ago and the needle aspirates that preceded it, Celtic's overall health has declined significantly and his tumor has literally grown by the day.

We've certainly been worried about this rapid growth of late, but the noticeable size increase wasn't really so out of the ordinary. Often times when cancers are disturbed by a biopsy they tend to react by growing--Hope's first mast cell tumor did the same thing when it was aspirated back in 2007. Although the growth was concerning, we were still hopeful that yesterday morning's bloodwork would be better and today's surgery would be a go. While the anemia was a tiny bit improved, our regular vet Dr. Coles was alarmed by the tumor growth, Celtic's coloring and his overall malaise. He suggested we try and get back in to see Dr. Layton yesterday morning for another consult and possible early surgery, even though Dr. Layton usually only does emergency surgeries on Mondays.

We thankfully got in to see Dr. Layton right away, and as usual, she was her amazingly caring, compassionate and helpful self. She agreed that the tumor was significantly bigger than last week, and she expressed her concerns about his lethargy and immobility. The incredibly rapid growth confirmed her initial suspicion that the cancerous part of the tumor is a hemangiosarcoma, the extremely aggressive kind of cancer that killed Celtic's brother Steeler. Because the tumor had grown so much down his leg, she thought there was a very strong possibility that in order to remove it she would have to amputate his leg as well--or at least damage the nerves enough to make his leg useless. Chad and I both agreed that because of Celtic's age and significant problems with pain and weakness in his back legs, he wouldn't be able to walk on three legs. To us the amputation didn't seem like an acceptable outcome, and if Dr. Layton got started and realized that was her only option, they would just have to put Celtic to sleep by not letting him wake up from surgery. We couldn't bear the thought of his final memories being ones of fear and anxiety in a scary hospital.

There were other significant surgery risks that contributed to the decision, namely that Celtic might bleed to death due to the vascular involvement of the tumor, or that Dr. Layton would open him up only to find that surgical removal was just impossible because the tumor was so connected to muscles and other tissues. Even if the surgery went perfectly and Dr. Layton had been able to remove the bulk of the tumor and save the leg, we probably would have only been buying Celtic another 3-6 months before the remnants of the tumor took over and took his life. Since the odds of a perfect surgery were so slim, we didn't think it was a risk worth taking. We decided we would rather spend Celtic's last few weeks spoiling him rotten and showering him with all the love we can.

Obviously I regret that we didn't have Dr. Layton do the surgery last Wednesday, which she could have done. Since the surgery was risky even at that time, I really wanted to have a few more days to spend quality time with him in case something went wrong. Since my brother came home to Kansas on Sunday, I really wanted Eric to have a last visit with Celtic as well. Dr. Layton didn't think waiting six days would really matter, but of course she had no idea how aggressive his tumor would be. Knowing that we might have had him for a few more months instead of a few more weeks absolutely breaks my heart, but maybe not having to recover from surgery will mean less suffering for him in the long run. At least that's what I'm trying to tell myself.