Yesterday was a rough, rough day.
Backing up a bit:
About two months ago I brought Joey up to the Morristown Animal Hospital for his yearly check-up so he could get his blood test, vaccinations, etc. All seemed well, but a couple of days later we got a call that his blood tests had come back positive for Lyme disease. No surprise, in a way ... our neighborhood is full of trees and bushes, and Joey likes to "dive in" head first when finding a place to pee. I'd pulled deer ticks off of him plenty of times, and one finally managed to get him with the disease. We put him on antibiotics for a month, with the expectation that he'd push through and get better.
He'd been asymptomatic, which is why we're not sure when, exactly, he got the disease. Without any warning signs, it was simply good fortune that his check-up came at an opportune time to discover the illness.
Other than the Lyme disease, though, he seemed to be doing pretty well for a middle-aged dog. He had gained an appropriate amount of weight since we adopted him a year ago, and his behavior since the holidays (when he bit my father in law's hand and caused Nicole to have a late-night meltdown over his raucous, food-grabbing behavior) had been exemplary. He'd stopped barking at the trash can every night and, with the exception of picking up a shoe with his mouth now and then, had started to leave items in the apartment alone.
Since January, Joey has been the dog we'd hoped he'd be when we adopted him.
Not long after he started taking his Lyme disease medication, he started to limp. He favored his front left paw, so I took a look at it and didn't find any cuts or bruises. When I touched/squeezed his leg, from his paw up to his shoulder, he never winced or squealed or pulled away, so he never appeared to be in any pain.
We brought him up to the vet again, and he had an x-ray of his shoulder taken. It didn't show any breaks or damage, so soft-tissue damage was suspected. Also, one of the effects of Lyme disease, as I understand it, is joint stiffness. I figured that might be part of the cause for his limp.
He went on anti-inflammatory/pain medications, and bounced back wonderfully. Literally the next day he was fine - as if nothing had happened. Two hundred dollars wasted, we though. What a faker!
This past Friday, the limp returned. We thought we'd let the weekend pass to see if it cleared up on its own, given how quickly he seemed to recover the last time he had it. Nicole needed the car for work on Monday, so I couldn't schedule the appointment for that day, and we decided to schedule for Tuesday. On Monday, he actually seemed a little better so I didn't schedule, giving it one more day just in case. By Tuesday afternoon, though, it was clear he needed to be seen again, so I scheduled an appointment for yesterday (Wednesday) afternoon.
He still didn't react to being touched on the left leg, but Nicole and I could both tell just by feeling him that something was wrong with his left shoulder. Compared to the right shoulder, it seemed "enlarged", and the bone almost seemed to be protruding in a way. His limp on Tuesday night was very pronounced, and just watching him move from the living room to the kitchen was painful. At one point, I sat down next to him on the floor and he just put his face in my lap, as if to say "I'm hurt. What's wrong?"
When I brought Joey up to Dr. Matalon's office to be seen again, Dr. Matalon immediately said "I don't like the way his leg looks". He said there was swelling, and he was concerned that there "might be a tumor". The first step, he said, would be to take another x-ray. Go for it, I told him. Do what you need to do.
They had to give Joey a mild sedative to move his legs into the proper position; long story short, in order to get a clear view of just one shoulder, a dog's legs have to be moved just-so, otherwise the shoulders overlap and you can't get a clear view. Given the swelling, the possibility of pain, and the fact that he'd likely be fidgety in trying to avoid discomfort, they put him under for a while.
I waited in the exam room while they took him for the x-ray. For those who know part of this story already, this is when I started posting updates on Facebook via my cell phone.
I waited for what seemed like an eternity, and Dr. Matalon came into the exam room with the new x-ray. The bone density, he said, had changed from the last x-ray.
(Given how my thoughts are swimming around in my head right now, the following may not exactly be chronologically in order, and the facts are as I remember them - I might have gotten some parts mixed up).
Basically, the area in his shoulder seemed to be losing strength. His bone density was apparently worse than it was in the first x-ray (my loose interpretation of the discussion - not Dr. M's exact words), and since Joey was already sedated, I was asked if I would mind if they did a bone biopsy to check for cancer.
I would have been less surprised if Dr. Matalon had come into the office and hit me in the knee with a tire iron. Not expecting the C-word, to say the least.
But of course ... do what you need to do.
Instead of waiting in the exam room, I went to the lobby and hung out there for a while. When he was done, Dr. Matalon came out to let me know what was going on. Joey needed some time to awaken from the sedative and wasn't ready to leave just yet.
My first question was about his Lyme disease. As it turns out, the timing of the Lyme disease and his current problems were coincidental and completely independent of each other. There was nothing we could have done to prevent his current condition. It's a cold comfort knowing this, but at least I won't have any retrospective regret hanging over me regarding our care of the big guy.
They were able to remove a sample very easily, because the bone was so weakened. Test results might be available tomorrow (Friday), but it could take a couple of days, too. When the results come back, they'll be able to determine the best course of action. If the tests come back positively for cancer, they'll need to do chest scans to determine how far the disease has spread.
There's a possibility that Joey might, at the least, have to have his front left leg amputated. His bone is so brittle, I was told, that it could break if we let Joey play unsupervised. One of the benefits of living in an apartment without our own yard, though, is that Joey's always here under our watch.
In theory we'll need to cut our walks short, though this morning I didn't have the heart, and I brought him for his "long walk" all the way around our neighborhood. He'd been trying to get me to do this for days, but I knew he wouldn't make it all the way around if we'd tried over the weekend. He's been prescribed the same painkiller/anti-inflammatory, and he took his first dosage last night. This morning, he was full of the same kind of energy he used to have. When I asked him if he wanted to go out for a walk, he got very excited and started running around the apartment - I had to stop him, because one bad jump and the bone could give way ... But we got outside, and though I knew I shouldn't do it, I let him walk as much as he wanted to. It was the most joyful I'd seen him in a week, and I didn't want to deprive him of this little bit of happiness.
As I write this, he's resting on the dog bed behind my desk chair. My blonde dog's left shoulder is shaved and I can see the black stitches in his pink skin, as if he's got some awful medical crop circle formation in his fur. He's in pain, but he doesn't know, because it's masked by the meds. His bone is weak, and he might have cancer that could result in an amputation.
How is it fair that this poor dog managed to escape whatever unfortunate past he experienced for seven years before being adopted into a loving apartment last February, learning to change his behavior and becoming an absolutely terrific pet and great friend along the way, only to face amputation as what could potentially be a "best case scenario"?
We have a lot of big questions coming up, including the obvious one that I can't even bring myself to write about just yet ...
This whole thing sucks. I've cried more in the last 24 hours than I have in I don't even know how long. I'm hoping against hope that the test results come back with some unexpected optimistic twist, but I know it's unlikely.
