bloggie

I think Aridog's and Packen's input would be invaluable here. Perhaps you could even comment on Treppenwitz's blog and give him some advice.

You see, the furriest member of our family - our 11-year-old black Lab mix, Jordan - was recently diagnosed with cancer. Specifically, with Lymphoma. Sadly, even when a pet is as much a member of the family as Jordan, the decision-making process of just how far to go in trying to extend an animal's life is never the same as with a human.

First and foremost is the issue of money. Even where the mind (and heart) dictate that no amount is too much to save a beloved pet's life, there are limits to what most of us can reasonably afford to spend on surgery, drugs, therapy, etc. for a pet.

There is also the specter of euthanasia that lurks, unspoken, during a discussion of a serious pet illness that - my family's dark sense of humor not withstanding - is simply not part of any normal discussion of a human's illness.

Our vet is a wonderful, dedicated practitioner who saved Jordan's life a couple of years ago when she somehow managed to ingest a lethal dose of strychnine. He knows how attached we are to her, so when he delivered the bad news about her cancer he was as gentle and thorough as if (G-d forbid) it were a human member of the family under discussion.

But at the end of the lengthy diagnosis process, our vet told us firmly that a decision had to be made. Without treatment Jordan would likely die in a few months at most. He said that her only hope of survival lay in a course of chemotherapy over approximately 12 weeks.

...

As if reading my thoughts, the vet brought the uncomfortable subjects out into the light where we could see them. He assured us that he didn't believe in expensive, heroic measures to extend an animal's life for only a few months. He said that if that were the case with Jordan, he would recommend putting her to sleep as soon as she began to suffer real physical discomfort. But at the same time he wanted us to understand that the most wildly optimistic prognosis chemotherapy could offer an 11-year-old animal with her condition was a year... maybe a year and a half at the outside.

He then went over what the entire chemo-treatment would cost and explained that even if all went as planned/hoped and she tolerated the treatment, she would also have to come back every three months for extra chemo to make sure she remained in remission.

And there it was. With the life of our beloved pet hanging in the balance, we were given a lot of 'ifs'... and a terrifying lack of promises.

While certainly nowhere near as costly as a round of treatment at Sloane Kettering, the commitment in time and money we were facing was serious enough to require a private discussion with Zahava. There was no question that we could make the necessary time to bring Jordan into Jerusalem once a week for her chemo-treatments. But the only way we could swing the financial end of things was to spread the payments out over a whole year... a scenario which could easily see us making substantial payments well after Jordan had gone on to doggy heaven.

annie, I left a comment. Not much of one, I'm afraid, but there's not much to be said. A couple-three of months ago I had to give similar advice to Ido. His 10-month puppy was diagnosed with a serious congenital hip problem, not just one, but many. His hips were a mess, the dog was in constant pain and the choices were either about $2K for surgery and related expenses or euthanasia. Because of the location of one of the bone spurs very close to the main artery, the outcome of just surviving the surgery was only 20% success. Full recovery was at about the same percentage.

Ido just started a new job, working insane hours, paying off his debts and pretty much broke. Offers of financial aid, even in the form of a loan, were adamantly rejected. With all that in mind, and the prospect of caring for a totally incapacitated 100-lb normally rambunctious puppy for months, I tried to comfort him by saying that I would understand if he opted for euthanasia. He was uncharacteristically quiet all during this conversation and said he has a few days to think about it. I knew as soon as hung up what his decision would be.

A few days later he called me sounding his good old self: "Do you believe what this mother*$%^&@ dog did? He tried to bite my hand off while I was shoving pills down his throat! I swear I will shoot the mother@#$%^ if he tries that again. I will, don't laugh!"

The dog, btw, is recovering nicely.

My commnet is posted there now, under the "TypeKey" iD "Zoyadog".

[??typekey did not likie Aridog long ago and still doesn't??]

From the comments:

We decided then that if we were ever faced with this again, we wouldn't subject the next dog to chemo; we would make those last few months count and then have her put down by the vet.

This has struck me particularly hard, being in the situation I am with Panda. Right now I'm doing everything that can be done for him; there's nothing else, no surgery or different medicine, that will help.

I hope, and it sounds horrible to hope for such a thing, that he just falls asleep one day and doesn't wake up, or that he has a fast heart attack, because the alternatives are worse. He could get what's called aortic saddle thrombosis, which is a blood clot that causes excruciating pain and paralysis, and death sometimes within a few hours thereafter. If I saw that he had that, there would be no question that I would take him to the vet and have him put to sleep, because there is nothing they could do for him. But even the thought of having to make that decision kills me.

{{{Stormi}}}

Someone I know was so upset by the death of his dog, when it was very old by doggie standards but only a few years by ours, that he could never face having another dog.

If I can't take it anymore, I'll jump off a bridge myself, thank you very much.

I've had four cats die of natural causes, and one, dear little Moe, died this fall when I had him put to sleep--progressive heart failure, pulmonary edema, hardly able to breathe or eat, poor baby. I loved him so much that I decided to take him in, even though it tore my heart out. He was just 11 years old. The vet at Bideawee said, "You're making absolutely the right decision: even if we aspirated his lungs, we could only give him two weeks or so, and he'd be right back where he is now."

But it was excruciating. I'd kept him going with medication for several months, long past the point when the vet thought he'd survive, because he was so vital and got so much out of every little scrap of pleasure; so incredibly affectionate, a real "cuddler."

I'll say one thing for anyone facing this: DO NOT go there ALONE. Take a friend or five with you! A friend drove me to the vet's but left me there, saying she couldn't face it. I staggered out of there afterwards in tears, called a friend to meet me at a diner: she was kindness itself.

One other thing: when they gave him the sedative, he struggled against its effect, which broke my heart to see. My sister told me afterwards that cats naturally hate to be sedated, but I felt guilty as Judas for holding him while they killed him. Don't underestimate the emotional trauma to yourself. It's a wholly unnatural act to have a beloved friend killed when you'd willingly breathe for them.

But I know we spared him some pain, so I took on the emotional anguish for his sake. Now I'm in tears, so I'll say adieu.

A bridge in the Netherlands? That would be like jumping out of a basement window.

{{{{{Stormi}}}}}

And {{{{{Lady o'S}}}}}

Lady of Shalott, what you had to do is precisely what terrifies me. I'm so in love with my Panda. I know I'll have to do what has to be done but it will absolutely kill me.

Thanks, Franco.

Stormi, if you do have to make that decision, just know that you take the pain so your little one won't have to.

Like Packen predicted in #2 there's a happy ending for the Treppenwitz family. I had a dopey grin on my face and tears in my eyes as I read his post.

Help! I've broken bloggie!

Boy, annie, when you break bloggie, you really break bloggie!

It was an extra /div tag. Actually, two, since you added an extra one when you tried to fix it.

I thought I had forgotten a div tag.

Thanks anyway :-)

I'll blame it all on our arctic weather. It's absolutely freezing here!

You should list the temperatures in Celsius, Annie. :)

Oh annie, you made my day. What a beautiful ending (and beginning)! Couldn't have hoped for a better one. And the puppy is half German Shepherd--who could ask for more?

Yes. :)

Packen, as soon as I saw what kind of puppy I knew you'd enjoy the post:-)