Wednesday, April 30, 2014

"This is bad."

I preface all of this by stating that I am a stoic person, and that everything about my demeanor in a vet's office suggests that I do not appreciate delicate sugarcoating.  I am a grim realist, and I very rarely interact with a vet or tech who does not pick up on this immediately.  

Took the dog for a biopsy of the thing growing out of her eye.  Went back to retrieve her this afternoon.  Took my mother, because I had a suspicion that an extra pair of ears would be useful.  I tend to get flustered when I have emotions while listening.

The dog came into the exam room first.  Her eye was icky with blood, but otherwise she was happy as a clam at high tide.

The surgeon came in a minute later.

"This is bad."

Oh.  My.

"This is a particularly nasty melanoma.  I don't see one like this very often, and I see a LOT of melanomas.  Black as night.  Lots of blood vessels. It's almost certain we won't be able to save the eye.  We might not be able to save the dog."

Oh.  My.

"I hope I'm wrong.  We can't be sure until the biopsy comes back.  Once we know exactly what we're dealing with, we can decide how to proceed."

When will that be, do you think?

"The biggest vet pathology lab in the nation is literally three blocks from here, so it should be pretty fast- by Monday, possibly earlier.  You can call on Saturday and ask if the labs are in."

Should I be calling the vet oncologist now, to schedule chest films and whatnot, just in case?  So we don't have to wait if it turns out to be malignant?

"You'd just be spinning your wheels, without the labs.  In a few days, we can make that call."

Oh.  My.


Thank you.  Come on, Trix, let's go home and see the kitty.

Monday seems very far away.

I live a very small life.  I see my coworkers, and my family, and I text a very few far-flung friends.  My dog has been my only daily companion for years.  The kitten is here to keep HER company while I'm at work, and he adores her.  She is his universe.

She is lying on the floor, probably tired from all the goings-on.  I should take the pressure bandage off her leg.

Oh, Trixie.  My darling beast.

This is not how I wanted today to go.


  1. Oh no, I'm so very sorry! I hope the dog "only" has to loose the eye, apparently they heal and adapt pretty quickly. I'm holding my thumbs (like "crossing my fingers" in Sweden).

  2. Shit. :( Good luck, Trixie, I'm rooting for you.

  3. Good luck Tante and Trixie and Kitty! Sending lots of good thoughts your way.

  4. Damn, that really sucks. I am so sorry. I am hoping and wishing that you and Trixie and new kitty get some good news.