I count my time in dog years…
and I’m the one who love you – Maggie Rogers
I’ve been counting my life in dog years since Mabel came into it in August of 2012. And the month of January 2020, tested everything I knew about that life.
January 6th was in some ways the first real day of the new year for Adam and me. It was a Monday and we were both back to work full time and Mabel was back to doggy daycare. I stopped to pick her up and she greeted me as normal; excited to see me, pausing for a treat/ head pat from the staff before heading on our way to the car. But as soon as we got outside, she wasn’t moving like herself. Some days, especially in the summer when she’s played in the water, she comes home tired and shows it on her walk to the car. At first, I thought maybe this was a similar case. But when I tried to pick her up and place her in the backseat, she let out a yelp of pain the likes of which I’d never heard. I was so taken back in fact, I wasn’t sure the noise came from her. When I attempted to pick her back up, she made the same startling sound; it was as if she didn’t want me to touch her abdomen. I instantly knew something was very wrong.
I called Adam on the way home concerned about Mabel’s behavior and we decided we would evaluate her together. At home, Mabel didn’t want to eat which is always a tell-tale sign she is not feeling like herself. As you can tell from her figure, Mabel is not one to miss a meal! And when she laid down, the look in her eyes wasn’t one of sleepiness from a day of playing but one of unease. As soon as Adam came home, we decided to take her to the ER at Ohio State.
OSU did an exam of Mabel and noted that she seemed a little tender but didn’t cry out in any sort of pain during the evaluation. However, I know how Mabel reacts to being at the vet. She becomes very stoic and I worried that maybe she was masking a bit of her pain in this situation. They suggested running some initial blood work and so we did and received very normal results. They sent us home with the diagnosis that it could be the early stages of pancreatitis, (which has very similar symptoms) and told us if she didn’t seem any better in the morning or her condition deteriorated to bring her back or take her to her normal vet.
The way she looked at me, when she laid on our bedroom floor sent a wave of panic throughout my system. I didn’t know what was wrong, but she was not herself. I felt it in my bones that this was serious. No one slept well that night. We wanted to give her the space she seemed to crave but around 4am she expressed an interest to lay in bed with us. My poor girl just couldn’t seem to rest so I did what my parents used to do for me when I was little and sick. I sang to her. I sang “You are my sunshine” through my tears and rubbed her little head until she finally fell asleep. I think I picked that song to comfort her and as a plea to the universe to let her be okay.
The next morning, I called her normal vet and asked to bring her in. Our normal doctor wasn’t in for the day, so I took the first available appointment. Normally, as soon as Mabel is seated in the vet waiting room she begins to shake. It always breaks my heart to see her nervous, but this visit alarmed me because for the first time, there was no shaking. She was sick.
I explained the same symptoms and again our vet performed the same tests and my little stoic friend showed some discomfort but held fast to her demeanor. Our vet suggested running a bit more blood work to try to identify if it was indeed the start to pancreatitis and suggested we could also conduct an x-ray. To be fair, I believe OSU suggested this the previous evening, but at the time with her behavior in the ER, it almost seemed as if it wasn’t necessary. Now sitting in the vet, I had no doubt that I wanted the x-ray…even if I was overreacting. It would at a minimum save Mabel another trip for more tests.
When the doctor came back in the room, she had a concerned look on her face. She mentioned that Mabel’s face looked so young that at first, she didn’t realize she was seven and a half years old. I was immediately alarmed. I could tell she was saying that the results in her hand along with her age were not a good combination. She explained that they couldn’t see any of the organs in Mabel’s abdomen on the x-ray. This was likely do to some sort of fluid or mass. She suggested that we schedule her for a CT scan and check the blood work when it was back the following day.
As soon as we were in the car, I immediately called back to OSU. To schedule at CT scan, I would need to wait until the middle of February. That clearly wasn’t an option, so we again went the ER route. I was back to OSU within 20 minutes and to OSU’s credit, they took my concerns for Mabel very seriously. In the interim, I called Adam to meet us back at the hospital.
While we were waiting on the CT scan, OSU also reviewed the x-rays and suggested trying to drain a bit of the fluid in her abdomen to help identify next steps. They determined it was blood and a very somber but empathetic doctor came in and told us that Mabel likely had a tumor that ruptured and often at her age, the tumor would be malignant. While I was very present in the moment, the exact order that we received the information is hard for me to recall looking back. I was in such shock; Mabel had seemed completely fine 24 hours ago and now we were being told she had life threatening internal bleeding and there was a high probability that bleeding was a result of cancer.
Before completing the CT scan, they did a chest x-ray. The rationale for the x-ray was to scan for other tumors; we would then know if it was cancer and it may change how we wanted to proceed. No one said it outright, but I knew they meant perhaps euthanizing her rather than doing a CT scan and trying to remove the tumor if the cancer had spread.
We did receive the best news we could hope for when the x-ray came back negative for other tumors. So, from there, we moved to the CT scan. Mabel would need to go under anesthesia for this scan and with Brachycephalic dogs (think smooshed faces), this is also a risk. I asked to see her before they took her back. She came into the room in pretty good spirits, happy to see us and I imagine running on a bit of adrenaline from all the change. I sat on the floor with her and sobbed. I told her she would be okay but also thanked her for the being my best friend. Adam and I took pictures with her; I tried to smile but I think my face still shows how utterly broken and scared I am in that moment. The OSU staff was so wonderful and just let us have our time to attempt to process all the new information.
They took her back for her CT scan and all we could do was walk the floors and wait. Adam stepped out for a call while I stared out the window trying to comprehend everything taking place. Feeling so helpless and out of control was overwhelming for me. In one way, I felt guilty as I realized this was the first time I was on the brink of such loss within my immediate family. So many people close to me have had to deal with tremendous loss within the past year and I realized how lucky I’d been. Yet I still found myself begging that this would not be Mabel’s time.
Mabel’s CT scan came back with a ruptured tumor and mass on her spleen. The scan did not show any other masses and we were notified that she was a good candidate for a splenectomy. I appreciated that the team was transparent throughout the process. They gave us the odds surrounding spleen tumors. Hemangiosarcoma was a word I’d never heard before that afternoon, but I quickly came to understand that is was a very serious type of cancer that was often found in two-thirds of malignant spleen tumors. Without treatment, a diagnosis of Hemangiosarcoma typically is equal to a one to three-month life span. There would be no way to tell what type of tumor Mabel had without the splenectomy. In our best-case scenario, Mabel would make it through surgery and the histopathology on the tumor would come back benign. We very quickly decided that it was worth giving our girl a fighting chance.
It was about 4:30pm when they took Mabel back to prep her for surgery. The surgical team met with us and told us that we would hear back results in a few hours once she woke up from anesthesia and that “no news was good news” until then. While it was excruciating, we made the choice to go home and wait for the call.
The moment I walked in the door, I saw the oversized lamb Mabel received for Christmas laying on the floor. I grabbed it and held on to it as hard as I could. I know it doesn’t make any logical sense, but I was holding onto it like I would have held on to her if I had been able. I wanted her to feel how much I loved her, and I know I needed to hold it for my own overwhelming anxiety.
Adam and I didn’t know what to do with ourselves, so we went for a cold walk in the dark throughout our neighborhood. I held on tightly to the lamb as we walked and shared stories about Mabel. I knew how much this stress was also impacting Adam but as always, he was my rock; letting me talk, vent and cry as I needed.
While it felt like a lifetime, we got a call around 6:45pm that Mabel came out of an uneventful surgery. The surgeon even chuckled that she was already up standing which came as a bit of a surprise to the team. They saw no other masses during surgery which was also positive news. They would send the tumor for testing and if all went well, we could see Mabel in the morning.
Adam and I were so relieved that Mabel came through surgery like a champ, but we knew we were not out of the woods. I had spent the last few hours focusing so much on Mabel’s surgery that now I was left with the great unknown on her cancer status. In the brief amount of research I’d conducted, I realized the odds were likely not in our favor and I was overwhelmed with the idea of thinking we only had one to three months left with her.
In an instant, I realized how much of my life revolves around Mabel. When Adam and I made the decision to not have human children, Mabel really became our version of a kid. We went out to dinner and recanted stories about her. We planned vacations where we could take her along. While she counted on us for food and shelter, I counted on her so much that I couldn’t fathom what life would be like so suddenly without her. While my rationale brain understands that Mabel is getting older and will not live forever in my heart of hearts, I really believed it should not be her time. I could dedicate a whole post on why I no longer practice the religion of which I was raised, but that night I spent a lot of time praying that God wouldn’t take her from me. That if he’d just give me more time, I would find some way to pay it back to the universe. I still held tight to her lamb and favorite blanket as I tried to get some sleep.
The next morning, I received a call around 8:30am that Mabel had a great night and we could come see her at 10am. Rather then wait at home, Adam and I both went into the office. I just happened to do so still holding on to a large stuffed lamb. The truth was besides showering, I had not put it down and regardless of how insane I looked, I decided I was not going to until I saw her.
I could not wait to see my girl. And when she came in the room to see me, with her little wrapped paw, I was struck by how much she reminded me of herself as a puppy. For as nervous as I had been, I made myself channel that away so I could be as calm as possible for Mabel which I will admit is not always my strong suit. I got her to eat a tiny bit of food which was a victory as it is impossible to get Mabel to take so much as a treat when at the vet. And with my promising that I could get her to eat once we left, her surgeon told me I could take her home.
We knew we had to watch her as she was not allowed to run, jump or climb stairs until her sutures were removed. Normally monitoring sutures would be a role I would politely decline but for Mabel, I was willing to do whatever it took. Between her pain meds and the toll of the surgery, Mabel was exhausted. I was able to get her to eat but only by hand feeding her which also broke my heart. I questioned putting her through so much for the surgery. Had we done what was best?
Ouch =( 
Over the next few days, I barely left Mabel’s side. I told myself it was to in order to ensure she was safe and not endangering her sutures but subconsciously, I wanted to soak in every moment with her just in case our time would turn out to be limited. Her little snores beside me overnight brought me comfort while we waited for results. And over the next few days, she began to return to her normal personality. I was ecstatic the first time she walked over to the kitchen to beg for the food I was preparing. Our little lady was coming back.
And come back she did. Soon, our toughest job was just ensuring we were keeping her immobile. I don’t know how people keep dogs like Labs and Boxers calm for multiple weeks! And while, I can be prone to thinking of worst-case scenarios, I started to only visualize positive results. Mabel had bounced back so quickly; I just began to believe in my heart that she was going to be alright.
In what felt like an eternity, on Tuesday, we received the results back from the histopathology and Mabel’s tumor was benign! Adam was traveling and we immediately shared excitement and tears of joy over the phone. In a week’s time, we’d gone from surgery with a life-threatening diagnosis to the likelihood of a full recovery. The following night, I finally returned upstairs to sleep in my normal bed, and it felt like the best night of sleep I’d had in months. I think Mabel felt the same as she contently slept snoring on her bed right beside me.
Mabel’s stitches are out and minus the scar on her belly, you’d never know what she’s been through. But we know. Every time, she begs for cheese and every time she lays in my lap, my heart is filled with such gratitude. I’m glad someone was listening when I prayed for more time and gave me the greatest gift. I understand nothing is forever and I don’t know what the future holds but I’ve promised myself I’ll be much more present and soak in every moment we have together.
While I wouldn’t wish the last month on anyone, I’m grateful for all it taught me. I realized I could be strong for Mabel when she needed it. I realized to never take the mundane parts of life that I love the most for granted and I was reminded to trust my own instincts. I knew something was seriously wrong with Mabel and I kept pushing to be her voice. I’m proud of myself for fighting for her.
I count my time in dog years and I’m so lucky. I’ll always be the one who loves you, Mabes.
Special thanks to Ohio State’s Veterinary Hospital who took such wonderful care of Mabel and of Adam and me during such a stressful time. And thanks to all our friends and families who checked in on us; sent Mabel gifts! and best wishes. We’re grateful for all of you.
Postcards To Mabel 