Part 4 of 5: Max's Cancer Journey

After we said yes, a technician came and took Max to the back.

That was it. One minute he was there. Then he was not.

We Went Outside

It was too beautiful a day to sit inside. We asked if we could wait outside. They said of course.

So Bill and I walked around the parking lot.

Right alongside the building, Bill found wild raspberries growing. He picked a few. He said they were absolutely delicious.

Across the street there was a building that looked like an old train station. Turned out to be a restaurant. We could smell hamburgers grilling. They smelled incredible.

There was a comic book store nearby too. We debated whether to walk over and check it out. We decided to stay close.

Neither of us was watching the clock. I honestly could not tell you how long we were out there. Time moves strangely when someone you love is in the back of a building getting chemotherapy for the first time.

The Drive Home

The drive home felt different than the drive up.

We came up Route 25 not knowing what we were walking into. We drove home knowing we had given Max a chance. A real one.

We talked about making every day count. Not in a forced way. Just in the way that becomes possible when the alternative has been right in front of you.

Two weeks earlier we were calling Lap of Love.

Now we were driving home from his first chemo treatment with a dog who had just charmed an entire oncology practice.

We Settled on the Porch

When we got home, we got Max settled outside on the porch underneath the awning.

Max loves being outside. Always has. We sat with him for a while.

Then I had to leave for a medical appointment. A scheduled stress test.

I had booked it weeks earlier, long before any of this. But sitting in that office with electrodes on my chest while someone monitored my heart, I could not stop thinking about Max.

There is something about going through something like this that makes you aware of all of it. Of how finite everything is. Of how we go through our days assuming there will be more of them.

Max was teaching me something, whether he meant to or not.

That Night

When I got home I did Max's laser session.

I had taken him to several vet appointments over the past few weeks and most of them had really taken it out of him. He would come home drained.

That night he seemed stronger.

I noticed it right away. There was something different in him. Whether it was the treatment itself, or just the fact that we had finally made a decision and committed to fighting for him, I cannot say for certain.

But I believe Max knows we are fighting for him.

And I believe he is fighting back.

A few weeks earlier, when we first suspected it might be cancer, I sat down with him and had a conversation. Not the kind a dog can follow word for word. But I told him everything. I reminded him of the promise I made when he was eight weeks old, that I would always care for him and always be his best advocate. I told him we were heading down a rough road.

He could not understand the words. Dogs do not process language the way we do. But I believe that in spirit and in energy, he understood.

The Sling

I want to say something about the sling, because it comes up throughout all of this.

It is a wide padded support band. Black nylon on the outside, soft fleece on the inside, two sturdy handles on each end. You slide it under the dog's hindquarters and use the handles to support his back end when he walks or goes down stairs.

I hate it.

Not because it does not work. It works fine. I use it when I need to.

I hate what it represents. Every time I pick it up I think about what it means that we have it. It means Max is at one of the lowest points of his life.

It is a tool. I know that. But it is also a reminder of everything I wish were different.

I wish I never had to buy it. I wish he never needed it. I wish none of this was happening.

The Medication Problem

Going back to July 14, Dr. Morgan had prescribed two medications.

Prazosin, to help Max relax his urethra so he could urinate more easily. And Gabapentin, for pain support.

The combination was too much.

Max got loopy. Uncoordinated. Sleepy. He moved around the house like he was drunk. When he tried to stand up he needed help. When he needed to go outside, those four stairs down to the backyard became a real problem. I had to slide the sling under him and guide him down each step because it was not safe to let him go on his own.

I made the call to take him off the Gabapentin. I also lowered his Prazosin from 3 mg down to 2 mg. I was thankful they had given me 1 mg capsules, because it meant I had some control over what he was getting.

Keeping a dog in a drug-induced stupor is not dignity. I am not looking to turn my dog into a junkie.

The Gabapentin was not gone. It was just waiting for when it was actually needed.

On Sunday night, July 26, I gave it to him at bedtime.

That was the first night in two weeks that Max slept through the entire night without waking me up to go outside. Before that, I was up four or five times a night with him.

I cannot tell you how much I needed that sleep.

It recharged me in a way I did not even realize I needed. It reminded me that I have to take care of myself too if I am going to take care of him.

If you are managing a dog with a similar diagnosis, pay attention to what the medications are doing. You know your dog better than anyone. Report what you are seeing. And do not be afraid to advocate for adjustments. Your vet cannot know what is happening at home at two in the morning unless you tell them.

What We Booked

Before we left Newtown that day, Dr. Merrick's coordinator booked out a full schedule of appointments.

All the way through October 7.

We are not committed to all of them. She made that clear. We can stop at any time. But we booked them because we wanted to believe we would need them.

Each appointment on that calendar is a question. Is he tolerating it? Is he improving? Are we still doing the right thing?

Each one is also a reason to get to the next week.

Part 5 is about what I do every day. The protocol, the routine, and what this has all meant to me.

New episodes post every Saturday on the 203 Pet Service blog. Come back next Saturday for Part 5.

If you are going through something similar with your dog, I hope this series helps.

Part 1: The Day He Went Down | Part 2: The Word Nobody Wants to Hear | Part 3: I Never Thought I'd Say Yes to Chemo | Part 5: What I Do Every Day for Max