My Pug Scoop (Precious Scoop has passed... )

Vicki,

radiation is no picnic. Scoop has so many health issues that a simple "sun burn" can be hard to recover from in itself.

Scoop's body is already trying to recover from so much and it seems like he's fighting hard. What might seem like a small thing really is not when a dog is already facing multiple health issues.

One more thing might undo any good that might be occurring now.
Baby steps, that's the way to go sometimes even though we want immediately resolutions.

Have I gotten it right Leslie?

Addy, Thanks for the link. That was very informative.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by scoora

Leslie, I'm so sorry to hear Squirt is having problems. I really am. I hope and pray that things get better for her. You have been so helpful with all your knowledge and suggestions. They are appreciated so much.

I have a question. Please don't take it the wrong way. I must think differently from others and maybe you can help me understand. When you said about not putting her through heroic measures, how does anyone know what is an heroic measure? How can anyone be sure if doing something will or will not help? Like with the radiation everyone said about not putting Scoop through that. They say radiation doesn't hurt except maybe a "sunburn" in that area. How do you know something will or won't help unless you try it? I felt if something (God forbid) would have happened, is it going to make a difference? He's doomed from that horrible tumor anyway. The way things are going it probably won't be too much longer so why not try. Everyone has their own opinion and that's fine. It just hurt seeing that everyone seemed to agree with the doctor's decision to not do it. Am I wrong or selfish or a bad mom to Scoop for wanting to do this or whatever I can? I guess I don't understand why something can't help him.
I'm sorry to bring this up on your thread but when I read what you wrote it just hit me hard. I am having such a hard time. Thanks for listening.

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Dear Vicki,

You will see that I have made a copy of your reply to Leslie (and also Valerie's reply to you) and added it to your own thread here. This way, Leslie will still see it, but it will be much easier for all of us to talk with you directly rather than over on Leslie's thread.

I want you to know that my heart goes out to you. There is no worse feeling than wondering what is the right thing to do for your baby. And my heart especially resonates with you because I also feared that is was an enlarging macro that caused the awful changes in my own beloved Cushpup. It is so hard to know when to press forward, and when to ease back. And the decision is made all the more painful because we cannot ask our babies what they would want for themselves. We have to make the decision for them and hope it is the best.

I will add this about conventional radiation, since we also considered it for our own boy but decided against it. I believe the major issue with the radiation is not the sunburn effect on the skin. It is the fact that with conventional radiation treatment, the dog has to be placed under a general anesthetic time after time after time. So this means multiple trips to the treatment center (or the dog being left at the treatment center for the duration), IV needles placed, and the ever-present risk of adverse reactions to the anesthetic including respiratory crisis, brain damage, and even death. For our dog, the treatment regimen would have involved at least a dozen anesthetics over a 4-5 week time period. Our dog had suffered through so many needles and so many vet visits by then. And he hated every one. He would start trembling with fear the instant he thought we were even headed in the direction of the vet. We knew we couldn't explain the purpose of the radiation to him. It was just something he would have to endure. He was a very sick boy by then, with many problems. And so we did not have the heart to make him go through the treatments after everything else we had asked of him. Now, I am not trying to say that would be the right decision for anybody else, especially for a dog who was less compromised or less fearful than ours. But I am just trying to explain why there can be many questions and issues involved in deciding whether or not to go forward with a treatment that is as aggressive as that.

When you love your babies the way we all love ours, it is hard to find a balance between our minds and our hearts. We hope so much to make things better. But at the same time, we don't want to inflict too much anxiety or pain or discomfort on our babies if a treatment holds only minimal hope for improvement. At that point, sometimes the kindest thing we can do is just let our babies be free of treatment and free of vet visits for their remaining time. It is a tough, tough call. And either way, the decisions can be so hard to live with. My mind and even my heart tells me that my husband and I made the right decision about not proceeding with radiation. But to this day, during my darker hours, I still wonder if my boy might have gotten better if we had chosen differently. Since none of us has a crystal ball, there is no way to know for certain. And because of that, I don't think there is any way to escape lingering questions as to what was really the best thing to do.

Vicki, I know this is such a hard time for you. And I am sending you many, many hugs as you struggle with these decisions. But I want you to know that WE know that all your decisions for Scoop are based on your love for him. You love him so much and you know him so well. So you are truly the best judge as to how much to ask of him, and when to ease off in order to give him some peace. And we will be here for you no matter where your decisions lead you.

Marianne

Vicki,
Give Scoop belly rubs from us in Texas.

Vicki, I'm not sure if I have ever posted to you & Scoop, if I have, it's been awhile. I have been reading your posts on Scoop & I have been very heartbroken as to how poorly he has been doing.

I will relate my experience with my 1st cushpup, Barkley, when he developed lymphoma. He was 13 years old, had been living with Cushing's for about 8 years, along with severe allergies, & 2 cruciate ligament repairs. In other words, this boy had been through the "wringer" medically. When he initially became ill, it took 2 weeks to get the lymphoma diagnosed which was finally done by an IMS. When she told me, I thought to myself, how can I put him through anything else. I decided to go ahead & get a consult with an oncologist who proceeded to tell me that lymphoma kills very quickly, 4-6 weeks. I was speechless, as we had wasted 2 weeks to get to a diagnosis. I did decide to go ahead with chemotherapy which bought Barkley another 20 months with an excellent quality of life. I must say that I had to really consider this as it required weekly trips to the oncologist where B had to have an IV hooked for about 2 hours to receive his chemo, along with a preliminary blood draw to make sure his blood counts were ok to get chemo. It was an awful lot to ask of him, but I also knew in those 2 weeks prior to diagnosis that I was watching this boy literally die before my eyes. Even with the chemo, it got to the point where B lost his remission, 2 other different drugs gave him a very brief remission, & the last month before he passed was really not all that great. I was absolutely scared to death that I would hang on too long for me, & not do the right thing for my boy. His oncologist kept telling me that I would know when it was "time". She was right, I got home on afternoon from work, B always waited for me in underneath the dining room table where he could watch the garage door for me to come in. I came in, he struggled up to greet me. I took one look at him & started crying because he really looked like he was telling me, "Mom, I am so very tired of feeling bad, of all the trips to the vet, all the tests, needles, etc. Please do the last kind thing you can for me." We had an appointment with the oncologist that afternoon, & I told him ok. It was really time, & I knew it. This boy had been about 22-23 lbs all of his life. He was done to about 16 lbs. He was losing huge quantities of hair from some type of unidentified skin infection because his immune system was absolutely shot. I know to this day I did the right thing, but 10 years later, I miss him every day, & the tears are trickling down my face as I type this.

Marianne, is absolutely correct, you know Scoop best & how much more he can tolerate when it comes to treatment. Any decision, we all know, you will make from your heart, & more importantly Scoop knows that you are trying to do the best that you can for him.

My thoughts & prayers are with both of you.

debbie

Oh Debbie!
You're not the only one crying. I hate to hear stories like this, but more often than not, we have to make that decision. I've done so in the past.

I also never doubted that it was the right decision though. You do know.

Hugs.

Vicki,
I just need to also chime in on what Marianne and others have said about the decisions that need to be made about Scoop. For me, it was when I was told that Bo probably had a macro and the only thing that could give him a few more months would be radiation. The tears and panic overtook my body at that time but I knew I had to make the decision for Bo and what was best for him. I knew in my heart that he could not withstand what it would have taken to do radiation. But, for Scoop things may be different. I looked into Bo's eyes and Bo told me that he would not be able to handle it. We made those last few months as comfortable for him as we could. I am not going to lie to you, they were difficult months. The pain in my heart knowing that any day was just one more day closer to the day we had to make that dreadful and most heart-breaking decision. Tears still flow daily and our lives will never be the same but it is peaceful knowing he is no longer suffering the effects of this dreadful disease. For him, cushings was what took him. But, it is not like that for everyone. And, that is why you have to make the decision based on what you know about Scoop and what you know he can take/handle. I will say prayers for you and Scoop that you are guided in making a choice based on what you know is best. Peace and hugs.

Vicki:
Sorry I missed a lot of what Scoop is going thru as I had to go to the Dr. for my Lupus and could not post. I read everything. I told you Tipper seems to have mucus or something in her throat. She snorts out a lot and it could be tracheal, not sure. We had a lot of wind yesterday and I noticed when it blew in her face the snorting like she couldn't take all the air in. I guess I will have the answers on the 11th when she goes under and gets scoped or gets an MRI. I feel so bad for all the pressure and decisions you are having to make. I have prayed to God every night to give your Scoop a miracle. I am like you, if I knew I was faced with a macro tumor situation, I may consider the radiation out of panic. I may find out my biggest fear on the 11th if they tell me she has a macro. I give you a lot of credit for forging on and still trying to help your boy. God only knows if I am faced with that what I will do. I can see everyones point not to put them thru suffering of radiation, but I also see the point of loving your dog so much you have to try to save their life somehow. I am crying for you as I am typing this I know where your heart is, and have all the empathy in the world for you. My Tipper has such a good quality of life except for the sleeping at night trying to breathe, and mucus. I would have a hard time justifying not trying to save her life. My problem is this radiation is so expensive I don't know where I would get the money. They make these procedures so expensive for the average person, that you shouldn't have to deny your dog treatment because you cannot afford it. I am sure whatever you do will be the right thing for you and Scoop, and I support you whole heartedly in your decision. The horrible disease is enough to give anyone a nervous breakdown. You are doing so well with all this I commend you, as I don't know if I will have your strength when needed. God Bless you Vicki, I am pulling for you and Scoop to get thru all this.
Patti

Dear sweet Vicki,

I tried a couple of times yesterday to answer you but just couldn't. I tried to type a reply in Word last nite so it would be ready this morning and I just couldn't. So I let myself believe today would be easier....it's not. It won't get easier. I wish I could tell you what the "right" thing for you and Scoop is but I can't; I can only tell you about Squirt and me. You know your baby boy better than anyone, you hear his heart's desire when no one else can. You know what he can and cannot tolerate today. Your love for him has carried his this far and your love will carry him the rest of the way perfectly. Of this, I have no doubt whatsoever...and neither does Scoop.

The last five years have taken a psychological toll on Squirt as well as physical. She has had to go to the vet so much and have so many things done to her that were unpleasant that now she stresses and fights from the second she realizes where she is going. She is very smart and we have to pass my brother's place, where we lived for a while, to get to the vet. Once we pass his driveway, she starts stressing. His place is almost half way between ours and the vet's so for at least 15 minutes she is building panic in the car. The road is narrow and twisting, and she wants to stand, which could damage her back legs...and that would be the end right then. So we both stress and panic on the way to the vet. She struggles with any and every thing they try to do, coming home hurting and worn completely out. It's a little over an hour on the road round trip to the vet for us and most of the trip is hard on Squirt not to mention the actual exam. It now takes 3-4 folks to hold her just to trim her nails or draw blood...and I have to leave the room or they cannot do it period.

When she was younger, I was willing to do anything it took to "fix" her. She's been put under four times in 13 years - that's a whole lot of anesthesia for a small body in a short period of time. When she had to have her back leg redone 2 years ago, I pretty much knew that would be the last time she got anesthesia - there would be no more for my baby girl. Since then, I have contemplated the lengths I should go to on her behalf - how much is too much? She is now 15, and it doesn't take much to be "too much". Just the trip to the vet is almost too much for her.

When it is her time, she doesn't want to leave lying on a cold operating table or in a lonely, hard cage...she wants to be in a familiar place, in familiar arms, surrounding by the things she loves and those who love her. And she deserves no less. She has given me her all for 15 years. Everything I have done for her was for me, me. She was too young to have problems and I wanted her with me for a long time...I wanted, I wanted, I wanted. I was able to make those things happen and she was able to accept them. I am a very selfish person and I still want her with me for a very long time to come...but she can't take any more. Now it's my turn to accept her directions. This time, what I want most is impossible.

Many years ago, I was at the vet's with one of my babies when an elderly lady came out of the back exam area holding a blanket-wrapped dog close to her chest. I thought she must have had to have her baby put down and said something to the receptionist about it. She told me that no, sadly the dog was still alive and the lady simply could not let it go. The dog was blind and deaf, had no teeth, couldn't pee or poop on it's own, couldn't stand, couldn't swallow and had only wisps of hair. The lady brought her baby in every day to have IV nutrients given, the bladder and intestines emptied, and water pockets put under the skin to keep the dog hydrated. This story and the image it provided has never left me and I have often thought how incredibly selfish that lady was, how cruel she was, and I believed that I would never let something like that happen. But I have come to understand her completely today. I want Squirt with me until my last breath. I want us to lie down together and expel our final breath as one. There are no words to express how very badly I want this, none. But it cannot be.

Life is a Dance. As infants, we watch and listen, learning the moves; as youths we take what we have seen and make it our own, gyrating with wild abandon; as we mature we glide across the floor with grace and confidence; and when we are old, we sit on the sidelines, tapping our toes to the music. The days of jitterbugging and head banging are over for Squirt and me...and they cannot be brought back, only remembered. We still have times that we can execute a slow Waltz but most days we simply hold each other and sway to the music. The time has come, for us, to let that be enough and be grateful for every moment that comes.

Many hugs, sweet lady,
Leslie and the gang

I've got no words of wisdom. Just love and support. hugs, Judi