Countdown

When a tumor was found by accident in Harlow last summer, I never would have imagined she would still be with me today. The bladder cancer was found during a check-up to prep for a non-cancerous lump removal on her back. The bloodwork was weird, they did an ultrasound. Tumor in her bladder.

Bladder cancer is a fast killing cancer, but because it was so small, she had good odds of having more time than most. Without treatment, it’s three to six months. Even less if it’s found due to symptoms, unlike Harlow’s case.

For the past year I have been giving Harlow oral chemo. Thankfully there are no side effects, and the deal was that every three months I would bring her to the oncology department and have a wildly expensive ultrasound done. Once there was sign of growth, we knew the chemo was no longer working and we had to consider something else.

That something else is invasive and ridiculous for a twelve year old dog, so months ago I knew that when this chemo stopped working, the interventions stopped.

The anxiety and sadness I felt in the days leading up to every one of her five ultrasound “tumor check” appointments was very heavy, and the relief when the results continued to be positive – no growth – was an incredible lift each time. We’re good for three more months! I’d exhale.

Ahead of yesterday’s appointment though, I didn’t feel nervous or sad, and I knew that meant something. I’d gotten a year and three months with my sweet, weird girl. More than I ever thought I would! I knew this good fortune would run out.

I brought with me to the appointment her remaining chemo pills. I just had a feeling we wouldn’t be needing them anymore, and I couldn’t just throw them out, as the plastic bag they live in has a skull and crossbones on it!

Sure enough, there is now signs of growth. The chemo is no longer holding it off. I burst into tears in the exam room as I sat there with the vet. I sympathized with the her, “I’m so sorry. You have to (share bad news) all the time!”

“But I got to give you good news for a whole year!” she told me. Also, I realized later, she chose this path, so there’s that.

She told me that because of the size of the tumor and its location, Harlow probably had six months left. I was surprised to hear I have this much time and said so. She amended her statement “well, three to six months.”

We talked about what to look for moving forward. We will not be back to check the progress of the cancer’s growth. I’ll just watch for symptoms. I told the vet I’d read something about saying goodbye to our pets “It’s better to be two weeks early than one day late.”

“Yes, if you find there are more good days than bad, it’s time” she told me. Because of course, there will no be improvement, ever.

“We won’t tell Harlow” she said, “she doesn’t need to know”

No, she does not.