Effing Cancer.

Having trouble coming up with a good title for this post.  "Well, Shit" comes to mind.  Or, "This Too, is Part of Life with a Hearing Dog".   I'll leave the naming of the post until later. Should be interesting to see what my conscious (or subconscious) decides.

Bosley is dying.  True, he looks okay. He still plays. Still smiles. But his eyes show he is not well.  The bare, unvarnished truth is that he is dying. There. I've said it.  The prognosis is poor.  Without chemo, he has between 2 and 8 weeks. With chemo, he has about 6 months.

If he goes the full round of recommended chemo, he will be receiving it between now and March.  It is then expected that he will die in April or May.

If he doesn't go the full round of chemo, he will be gone by January, max.  More than likely, it will be earlier than January.

Bosley and I were at the Animal  Cancer Centre at the University of Guelph all day yesterday.  He was xrayed, had blood taken, was palpated, poked, proded, shaved, poked some more and started a round of chemo.

I was given a whack of instructions that I didn't absorb at all. Not because of my hearing loss, but because of my stress level.  The oncologist and the fourth year med student probably knew this and were used to it, because they also gave me written instructions. In addition to the chemo, I was loaded down with other chemo drugs, as well as anti-nausea drugs, prednisone and an anti-diarrheal because of the potential side effects of the chemo.

At the end of the long day, he had a smile for everybody, and his tail was wagging.  Right at the end of the interview with the oncologist, he looked up into her face and handed her his paw to shake.

Broke my heart.

Today, we're at work. He's sleeping in his usual spots. When he is not under my desk, he is sleeping in front of my door in the hall.  Typical Bos-boy.   Greeting the courier guy and the mail guy and every client that walks through the door.