A Golden Retriever's Journey
The surgeon recommended we remove stimulus that might get her excited such as the doorbell or people coming to the door. I asked my husband to put a sign over the doorbell. He didn’t think three-legged golden retriever sounded convincing enough. It worked for the pizza delivery guy!
Surgery was last Wednesday June 5th. The surgeon called that afternoon to let us know everything went smoothly and she was in recovery. He said the joint was pretty trashed. We’d wait a few more days to confirm the biopsy results. The first day they said she was still really groggy and unable to walk, so they kept her another night. Friday, she was a ‘new dog.’ She rolled on her back to let them pet her tummy, going outside to pee with the support of a sling, and generally doing much better. When we picked her up, I was a nervous wreck. I wondered how she’d look and how she’d react to seeing us. I was worried about how much pain she’d be in and what the next week would bring. Consumed by these thoughts, I went the wrong way, missed the exit and was half an hour late! Fortunately, they didn’t seem too frustrated with me. After the tech took us through the detailed post-op care, they brought her out. It was so great to see her. I don’t know if she was just really happy to see us or hopped up on morphine, but we haven’t seen quite this much energy since.
The first night we had her corralled in a small space with her bed in the living room. She didn’t want to eat, which didn’t surprise me, but all her meds need to be taken with food, so I didn’t know what to do! I worked through it with the vet, but she ended up eating enough pizza crusts and treats that I gave her all that was needed. We gave her a sedative as well to take the edge off. We also learned the biopsy results. It was NOT synovial cell sarcoma as originally thought. It was a more rare peripheral nerve sheath tumor that had eaten away the bone and cartilage. The lymph nodes were clean which was a relief. He said this was an unusual location for this type of tumor, and we may want to follow up with an oncologist. It is more responsive to radiation than other cancers, but spreads more slowly, so I think this is good news. I have a follow up with our regular vet on Monday. If there’s no cancer in the lymph nodes or lungs, I’m not what sure we’d be treating at this point. Perhaps it’s simply to have a plan for monitoring her.
Daisy was a trooper this weekend, eating bits of bread with peanut butter and little snacks. I used vanilla yogurt to convince her to go outside to potty. On Sunday, she definitely perked up, started eating her regular food, and even hopped out to the yard by herself before I could chase her down with the sling. She’s still pretty much laying in her bed, but she wanted to lay in the grass for a while today. We take turns sitting near her and petting her which she likes. I’m looking forward to the day when she’s feeling like herself and hopping around the house on her own. She made it through the first four days, and we are breathing a huge sigh of relief.
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“This feels like it could be a tumor.” My heart sank the moment my veterinarian said it. We’d been blessed with a healthy Golden Retriever for 9 of her 11 years, and our luck had finally run out. We adopted her from a relative when she was two years old. We didn’t have kids yet, and she was indeed our baby. I heard my former vet’s voice in the back of my head. As he’d knelt on the ground with her and nuzzled her face like we did, he remarked what wonderful dogs Golden’s are, but it’s too bad they’re “tumor dogs.” Even though I knew this to be the truth, no one ever mentioned what to look for, nor did I ask. I didn’t know that a persistent limp could be a sign.
I held my breath at her regular appointment in April as the vet carefully checked her lumpy lipoma-filled skin, looked in her ears and eyes and everything checked out fine. I mentioned Daisy’s limp that persisted for a few days after playing fetch or after long walks, but the doctor didn’t notice her enlarged elbow unfortunately. She’d injured that leg five years ago on a camping trip, limped for a few days and returned to normal and periodically limped on the leg after heavy activity ever since. We figured it was just arthritis. Less than a month after her check up, I brought her in because her limp had worsened lasted for three days, and this time, I couldn’t point back to a game of fetch or a particular walk where she’d limped home. Something wasn’t healing, so I thought we’d get a prescription for anti-inflammatories or pain meds and be on our way.
I think in these pivotal moments, the veterinarian wanted to break it to you softly, and it took me a little while to process what she said. She recommended x-rays of the limb, and said she’d hoped they’d just find osteoarthritis in there, but she had a feeling it was a tumor. Then depending on the type of tumor, we could talk about treatment options. I was both glad I hadn’t waited any longer to bring her in, and at the same time felt horrible for not raising the alarm bells sooner. I didn’t sleep much that night.
The next morning I brought her in for x-rays with sedation. A few anxious hours later, the vet called to tell me that she didn’t have bone cancer as they suspected, but she found an abnormality in the cartilage and she wanted a radiologist to get a second opinion. She showed me the x-rays and I could see a round hole in her elbow joint, eaten away by the tumor – not good. By the time I arrived, she’d spoken to the radiologist who agreed it looked like cancer of the cartilage, most likely synovial cell sarcoma. She asked to do a biopsy of the fluid so that they could try and get a firm diagnosis, but didn’t make any promises. I thought while she was already sedated we should go ahead and perhaps we wouldn’t have to put her through a separate more invasive surgical biopsy and more anesthesia. I also agreed to take chest x-rays as she said this was helpful in understanding whether the cancer had spread. I wanted as much information as we could get so we could determine whether it was worth treatment. As I sat outside the office with my three month old son waiting, I couldn’t keep it together any longer. The vet came outside. I could feel the tears running down my cheeks. One week prior, we’d been taking our daily walks, talking about how much puppy energy Daisy had. Now we were talking about amputation and life expectancy. It was too much! I told her that I didn’t want to put Daisy through amputation and put the thought out of my head.
