Archive for the ‘Fozzy’ Tag
Still Saying Goodbye, two years later
Dear Fozzy,
I knew today would be sad. It’s been two years since we said goodbye. I still think of you more often than I want to admit. You were the original bear and every time I use “bear†to call another dog I think of how it all started with you. I still have your photos at work and on my phone; around the house and in my heart. You were the best dog.
Still I find myself telling people what a wonderful dog you were and to us it was true; you were the best. You were not perfect though. I remember your dog bite incident. How you had to spend two weeks in rabies quarantine even though you’d had your shots and we had all the records. I remember rushing home every day to visit you and how desperately you looked at me. I tried not to cry seeing you in that horrible cage. You never cried. You were always so happy to see me. I remember Brian and me fighting all the time because he said you could never be around people again and you loved people so much. He said they would kill you if it happened again and I couldn’t bear the thought of that so soon after MacKenzie died. But you loved people so much and I thought you would be so unhappy. I cried that I couldn’t fix you. In the end you never cared and I never knew how much pain you were really in.
I remember all the vet visits. It pains me still to think of everything you went through but I wasn’t ready to let you go and I don’t think you were ready to let me go. The brown recluse bite you handled like a champ, and enjoyed the attention. The melanoma that should have killed you. Instead, you ate your bandage repeatedly and gave the vet and us great stories to tell about the extent we had to go to for you to not eat your bandage! Finally though, it was the osteosarcoma that took you. Who would have thought you could survive one cancer just to get another one. The strange part is I was always checking your lymph nodes, waiting for the return and I still didn’t catch it early enough. From what they say, there was no early enough.
So two years ago today we said goodbye. We fed you filet mignon for your last supper. You ate it so fast. Like there was no grapefruit sized tumor on your spleen. Nothing could stop you from eating. You never refused food. After dinner, we sat at the end of the driveway together and I took our photo in the setting sun. I’m sure you licked my cheek; you always did.
Saying Goodbye
 Dear Fozzy,
You gave me so many happy times and, yet, with each one was a sadness that someday I would have to let you go. As the years went by, I knew we were coming closer and closer to that day. When we came home from the vet that Tuesday afternoon I was completely empty. I knew that you were in pain and letting you go was the right decision but I couldn’t face my life without you. I never knew what a void you filled.
That night I cried endlessly. I hated waking up and not having your face in mine; reminding me it was time for puppy breakfast. My life moved forward, even when I was not with it. I went to work and I rode my bike but my heart was not in it. My heart was with you. Those first days I had a crisis at work and escaped into my work like a drug. I was ashamed at how much I tried not to think about you but remembering brought so much pain and tears.
After a few days, the pain subsided and felt myself healing. Healing is a curious thing. It feels much like forgetting and I began to worry that I was forgetting you and all the years of joy you brought me. I found myself flipping through photos of you and trying to remember all the memorable stories, all the things that were uniquely Fozzy, and even how your head would stretch up when I scratched under your chin in that way you loved.
I wonder what you thought those last days. I wonder if you really wanted relief in the way we project on to you. I wonder if you knew how painful letting you go was for us and I wonder if it made you feel sad. I wonder if you were scared.
I hated that I couldn’t tell you how amazing you were and how much you meant to us. You were not an easy dog at times but we always made it work. All I could do was pet you and feed you and hope.
Love,
Mom
Fozzy Bear: Early 2003 – March 13th 2012
I totally meant to write my thoughts down the night we said goodbye. I hate how life pulls at you sometimes when you least need it. I ended up working late Tuesday and Wednesday night. It upsets me that I wasn’t able to take the time when he was closest to my heart. I’m just now at a point that I can think of him and not break out crying. In some ways, that makes me more sad.
It’s been a while since I gave an update on the situation so I suppose I should take a moment to recap Fozzy’s last weeks with us. The two weeks after the surgery were horrific. Knowing what I know now, I probably would not have put him through it. He adapted very well to being on three legs. The problem was that the stump itself was extremely painful. The vet thought the swelling might have tweaked a nerve or something. Bottom line, if anything touched his stump he would squeal and writhe in pain for up to 5-minutes. For a time I hated myself for doing this to him.
At two weeks, we took him back to get his sutures taken out. When we picked him up, he was a brand new dog. The stump didn’t hurt anymore and he was better about getting around because he wasn’t as scared of falling. He did have huge problems getting traction on the floor and eventually we resigned ourselves to making him wear a bootie.
Just about the time we got the diagnosis Fozzy started to lose energy again. He would get into bed and not want to move. We wondered if it was time and were very frustrated that it had been 3-weeks since the surgery and we still had no idea what his prognosis was.
When we got the diagnosis of osteosarcoma a few weeks later it was devastating. We took him to our vet instead of the specialist to get his opinion of the splenetic tumor and talk about what his last week’s would be like. Our vet suspected part of his lethargy was due to arthritis and put him on an NSAID. We saw a huge difference immediately. It was great to see our hoppy puppy again. He would even hop around the dinner table, pacing for food like he used to. It was fantastic. For a few weeks, I felt relief that I would have him for a little bit longer.
Then, just like that, something cha
nged. Fozzy stopped wanting to move around. He was obviously in pain but we didn’t know what was wrong. He had lost a ton of weight and we were supplementing his meals with peanut butter sandwiches. We thought maybe it was just his arthritis again but increasing his NSAID dose did nothing. His leg would shake when he stood and he would fall sometimes. He was also having a very difficult time using the restroom. It was only three bad days but we knew. He would give us this look whenever he had to get out of bed and we just knew he needed it to end.
As sad as I am, I am so thankful for the last days I was able to spend saying goodbye. Fozzy loved being near us more than anything in the worlds so we setup a little sitting area out of pillows and we would read or do work right next to him so he could get as much petting and love as possible.
The next two days the house just felt empty. My heart ached and I had a constant feeling as if I was missing something. When MacKenzie died, I cried because I felt helpless and guilty. I thought I would never love Fozzy as much as I loved her. She was such a personality. I was so surprised to find that Fozzy blossomed and filled our whole house. Now that presence is gone and I find that I have a hard time believing I’ll every love Bennett like I loved Fozzy. Maybe, but maybe I’ll be surprised.
The light that burns twice as bright, burns half as long
I would give anything these days to be able to slow time. This week was about all I could take. Friday we were still waiting on the pathology results even though they had been promised by Friday. Sunday, I started my Taiwan shift to get probe working and was working during the day to get all of the data we needed from the handler.
Meanwhile, Fozzy seemed to get worse. It’s really difficult to talk about Fozzy’s quality of life because the swings from good day to bad are large. Some days, he follows me around the house hoping for food scraps. Other days, he walks away from the family into a corner and wonder if he’s trying to tell us. I know, whether I want to or not, I will always make excuses for him. I won’t just admit that it’s time.
Tuesday we finally got the call. It came at 4:30 while I was trying to get some much needed sleep so the details are a little fuzzy. The bottom line was not good though. He has osteosarcoma and she was 99.5% sure that it was in the spleen as well. At this point, we are talking about his life in weeks, not months.
We made an appointment with our local vet to discuss care and what to expect. Also, partially to give them all a chance to see him before the end. They have been with him through so much and he’s such a special dog. I couldn’t imagine not giving them an opportunity to say goodbye. Our vet took so much time to discuss the decision making process with us. He told us the decision was never easy and it would always feel like we did either too soon or waited to long. He shared stories of his dogs who had passed and reminded us that they are always a part of you.
Tamisha came in to see him along with Kelly and Janet from reception. It seemed everybody wanted to see him. Tamisha even got teary as we talked about his prognosis. They have all seen him though so much and he really is a special bear.
So now we wait and hope that the end comes quickly when it’s time.
Home Alone (with a post-op puppy)
Going to work has been so difficult. Given how bad Fozzy did with his sutures last time I’m terrified every minute that I’m gone. It takes all the strength in the world for me to open the bedroom door when I get home. Every time, I find him doing fine, laying in bed with his nub wagging to see me. Every time I expect the worst.
He’s having a really difficult time with the hardwood and tile floors. Luckily, he will wear the booty I bought him. It helps but it doesn’t fix it. He needs to adjust his walking style so he’s not propelling himself across the floor. He’s become terrified of some areas of the room, even wearing the booty. This has been so difficult to handle by myself. Bennett is desperate for attention but I have to keep a constant eye on Fozzy. Bennett trying to get near me to steal attention has lead to him stepping on Fozzy’s stub multiple times.
I also haven’t been able to sleep because Fozzy wakes me up every time he shifts position. I’ve been a walking zombie this week. I feel barley functional and I seriously think I’m on the verge of crying all the time. I know things will get better but I feel so guilty for what Fozzy is going through now.
Brian gets home tomorrow and I’m just hoping we don’t get the results of the histopath until after he’s home. I don’t know that I can take bad news with out him.
Fozzy’s First Days Home
I’m sure every puppy-parent thinks their dog is the most amazing dog ever. We have always felt that way about Fozzy. He has this look and these eyes that just speak to you. I tried not to have any allusions that I was any different than any other owner. Yet our Vet knows and loves Fozzy and so many people through out his life have stopped me to tell me what a beautiful dog I have. it’s always made me feel that much better about it because he’s a mutt and that makes him one-of-a-kind. That same fact also makes the thought of loosing him that much tougher. He’s not just a golden like Bennett. I love Bennett but he’s just like so many of our friends goldens. I will never have another Fozzy and I’ll never look either.
So when I picked him up from the specialty vet after surgery, it was reassuring that they also fell in love with him. The night vet tech that took care of him told us he was a really special dog. She had obviously taken to him in just a few days. It’s comforting to me that if a stranger fell in love with him in just a few days, I could be completely enamored with him after 8-years. I can already feel my heart breaking that he will not be a part of my life much longer.
Things have been slow this weekend. Fozzy looks good but needs constant supervision. He’s pretty lethargic, which worries me as that is the main symptom splenetic problems. He’s also very tender. A few times, Bennett ran into him and Fozzy just lay on the ground and squealed like I could never find words to describe. I worry that will be the image that lives in my head about this amputation. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so horrible. He just lay on the ground and kicked his good leg while he squealed. There was nothing I could do but try to get some ice on it. His body shook with fear for minutes afterwards and I felt completely helpless. On the good side, he has a great appetite and was even chewing his bone on Sunday. The real challenge will be this week when Brian is in Dallas and I have to care for the two of them myself.
Tripawd
Fozzy won’t come home until Friday. I had been hopeful that since he was recovering so well he would come home Thursday but he’s still draining so Friday it is. I was able to visit him today though. I was nervous about how he would look and act. It felt like it took them forever to bring him in to me.
It was nice to see how well he was moving around. He was able to lie down and get up on his own. He still had the drain in and seemed really loopy. I’m sure he was happy to see me but not in the way I would have liked. It’s like he couldn’t relax. He just walked around the room sniffing at things and trying to get comfortable. I brought his favorite stuffed animal but he didn’t seem interested.
I know it shouldn’t bother me that, after a major surgery, he seems unsettled and didn’t want to play with his toy but it did bother me. I hope that when he gets home he’ll settle in better. I know that thinking he is “depressed†is inane but I worry that he’s not comfortable. I worry most that his spleen was bothering him more than we thought and was just masked by his leg being so painful.
I’m counting the hours until I get to bring my baby home. I hope I made the “right choiceâ€.
Weathering the Storm
The house seems very quiet. Bennett is playing with the treats toy Fozzy never lets him play with, Brian is playing video games, and I’m still in awe that I’m still awake.
The storm came through around 2:00 in the morning and didn’t seem to end until just before 5:00AM. It was as if this storm came to make up for all the rain we didn’t get. More thunder and lightning than I can remember in a long time. All night I tossed and turned. No telling if I would have slept poorly anyway but that’s what I did when the noise was too much to sleep through.
I wrapped myself in my trench coat and took the dogs outside to get the morning business out of the way. While the thunder had subsided, the sky was alive with lights. I try not to be superstitious but I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of anxiety. We haven’t had a storm like this in 7 or more years and today of all mornings, after the worst drought in recent memory, the sky opens up. It stormed the night before my sister’s wedding and caused the worst flooding in Kentucky in 40-years, then it stormed again the day my nephew was born. Neither of those events have had great outcomes. I watched Fozzy hop around the yard and said another prayer that I was doing the right thing.
The morning came too quickly. While the rain had abated, roughly 5-inches in 4-hours had left many of the roads around town flooded and completely closed. With that in mind, we set out early to make sure we weren’t late and to try and beat traffic. The drive was actually uneventful and ended up being 1-hour early; which was more than enough time to grab a bagel and coffee.
Our consult with the surgeon went well except for her obvious disapproval that we were not going to remove his spleen. Other than that, she was very nice and really took a lot of time to prepare us for what he would be like after the surgery. Again, I wondered.
Around 1:00 they called and said he had gotten through surgery fantastically and that we might get to take him home on Thursday instead of Friday. It was great news but until I see him, walking and playing and being his old self, I will wonder.
Facing the Storm
We are finally getting some much needed rain. Today the sky turned black and, with little warning at all, heavy rain pounded down on us. In so many ways it echoed my mood. Today we had to make the chose for Fozzy. We finally got the call on Tuesday, sitting in the parking lot of the wedding I had actually, that both biopsies were inconclusive. More than that, the pathology lab thought the suspected plasma cell tumor. This was something we were completely unprepared for… hope.
Plasma cell tumor (or plamsacytoma) is a rare condition in dogs, accounting for less than 8% of hematopoietic tumors. The diagnosis can sometimes be made by looking for elevated proteins in the blood work. Unfortunately, these proteins only become elevated once the cancer is in the bone marrow meaning the test is not conclusive. We opted to do the test anyway because it was cheap and relatively quick. We took him in on Wednesday to have his blood drawn and knew it would be two or more days before we heard back.
Late Friday afternoon we got the call that the blood test was also inconclusive. At this point, her suggestion was that we remove the spleen and have it biopsied. This was extremely difficult news to hear. We’ve already spent a ton of money for nothing and now we have to choose a course of treatment with no information. Our biggest issue was that he seemed fine except that he can’t use his leg.
As the weekend went on he seemed to deteriorate. He became lethargic and had difficulty getting comfortable. His appetite never suffered and he seemed to want to participate but didn’t feel comfortable moving around. We are obviously worried about his spleen, but if he does have the plasmacytoma, the spleen tumor should react well to the chemo. I don’t think he will ever use his leg again.
Monday we called the doctor with our decision. We were going to hedge our bets and amputate, using the leg for the biopsy instead of the spleen. The original plan was to do both, remove the spleen and biopsy the leg (without amputation). Knowing that he will likely never use his leg again, we knew we had to amputate. We also decided it was too probably that the tumors were related to justify removing his spleen as well. These were all very difficult decisions!
The final decision to pull the trigger came when we got the quote for the amputation. It was more than we’d hoped. Not as much as the splenectomy, but more than we’d hoped. By the time we got the quote we only had 4-hours left to make a decision. We got the quote today and he has to have the surgery tomorrow or wait until Monday. He’s in so much pain; I didn’t feel we could wait. Plus, Brian will be in Dallas all next week. So the decision is made, for better or worse.
We take him to the vet first thing in the morning. The weather forecast is for very severe storms. Part of me feels like it’s an omen. I keep telling myself I’m not doing this for me. I don’t know if that’s true. There have been so many times that I’ve thought death would be peace for my baby. It will be true someday but not today. I still see the fight in his eyes. We pick him up Friday. More to come.
…and waiting
This last week has been horrible. I feel like I’m stuck in an emotional void. I can’t morn a dog that’s still alive but my life is not normal right now. I have no choice but to continue as close to normal as possible but I’m plagued by this constant feeling that I forgot something very important… ohh right, my dog is dying.
Yesterday came and went with no call from the vet. More than anything, I hate the waiting. I want to do something. Schedule his surgery, decide on treatment, and get back to living while he can. I’m screaming, crying, and clawing helplessly inside. On the outside, I’m trying not to let this consume me so that I can enjoy my time with him.
As is always true, when it rains if pours. I have a wedding this week (Tuesday no less), a meeting on Sunday, and just got hit with an unexpected presentation next week. I’m just trying to push through. Training? What training? It’s difficult to give things up, but sometimes it’s just time.