On a mild October 23, 2010, we said our final goodbyes to our big girl and held her as she quietly slipped away. It was the culmination of what had been the worst weeks of our lives.
In reality, the heartache began on September 10th that year. Michael and I had dropped "the kids" off at the vet's office for boarding while we would be on an extended weekend trip. We had requested that their annual checkups be performed while they were there. We had also noticed that Maggie had been limping a little on her back leg, and there seemed to be a small bump near her foot. Although we thought it was probably nothing and we were overreacting, we decided to have the vet x-ray it and see if there was anything to be concerned about. It would probably turn out to be nothing more than a bit of arthritis - a few days of running and playing in the yard had probably just made her sore. Still, we had friends whose dogs had a small bump on a paw that later turned out to be cancer. We figured we were being very proactive.
As we were pulling in to a parking spot at the amusement park lot, we received a call from our vet.
We expected to be told that both dogs looked well, and were doing fine with boarding. That was what we expected.
I could hear Michael's end of the conversation, as well as bits and pieces of what the vet was saying. At once, I heard Michael's voice strain and watched him tense up. I then overheard the word "osteosarcoma" on the other end of the call. Almost immediately I grabbed the phone. Michael and I sat in silence as the vet explained the situation.
The staff at the animal hospital also noticed the bump on Maggie's paw. She also seemed to be tender along her lower leg. When they x-rayed her leg, they saw a pattern in the bone which suggested she had osteosarcoma in that limb. The vet explained something I already knew: if it was osteosarcoma, it was an extremely aggressive cancer which would take Maggie's life sooner rather than later. It felt as though someone had sucked the air out of our lungs.
But then, I felt a small glimmer...of hope. I remember trying to think which leg the vet had just x-rayed...and which leg had Maggie had several surgeries on when she was younger? Could it be the same leg?
"Wait!" I blurted out. The line was silent. "Which leg are we talking about here?"
I could hear the vet, who had not treated Maggie before, shuffling papers to verify which leg we were discussing. When she answered, that glimmer of hope got a bit brighter. I asked if the vet had compared these most recent films with the ones from her previous surgeries at the veterinary college. "What surgeries" she asked. And suddenly, where Michael and I had gone to general quarters over the thought of losing our "baby girl," I was now going to general quarters to explain how the unusual patterns seen on the x-ray may very well be as result of the damage to Maggie's bone after several surgeries and a bone infection. I asked the vet if this could be possible - could the damage to the bone from all that mimic the look of cancer?
This veterinarian was not familiar with Maggie's history, but when I told her what our "little" angel had been through, she thought that what they were now seeing on film could indeed be a remnant of the damage done to Maggie's leg years ago. She promised to request the films from the college on Monday and let us know.
Certainly, I reasoned, everything would be fine. I would just have to find a way to keep myself calm for the next few days while all of this was sorted out. This was much easier said than done. Although this was a bit of a getaway for Michael and me, we had really just added extra relaxation days to a trip I had already planned. The real purpose of this weekend was for me to compete in a long distance triathlon. I had done many triathlons in the past, but this was to be the longest distance I had ever done and was already a bundle of nerves about the race. Now the thought of my furry soul-mate being gravely ill made me almost sick to my stomach. The roller coaster ride had started even before we entered the park.
The next few days flew by, but Maggie was constantly on our minds. We bounced between utter despair that we were losing our girl, and complete confidence that a comparison of x-rays would show she was fine. When the phone began to ring that Monday afternoon, it had hardly chirped before we answered it. The verdict: a comparison of the most recent x-rays with those from the veterinary college showed they were nearly identical! Maggie did not have cancer. The unusual pattern on the bone was indeed a result of the previous damage and infection. It looked almost exactly like early bone damage from osteosarcoma, but given the period of time between the x-rays, there was now no doubt that the damage the docs were now seeing was old, and not cancer!
I have in my lifetime I have had a few moments where I took a big breath and in letting it out, I felt the weight of the world come off my shoulders. This time, it was like being free of the weight of the universe. This time, just feeling like I could breath was the relief. I knew in a few weeks, Michael and I would look back on this and think how silly we had been to get so freaked out about the whole thing.
And so our lives seemed to continue from there, as though they had never been interrupted at all.
That is, until two weeks later when Maggie started limping on her front leg - a limb she had never had trouble with before.
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