"IT'S MAKE HIM OR BREAK HIM..."

“...that’s where we’re at.”
I had asked her to be straight with me, and even while the vet’s voice was matter-of-fact, her eyes told me she knew what effect her words would have on any pet lover. I felt my stomach hit my feet. Smooch’s condition was worse than I had even imagined. The word ‘cancer’ bounced around in my mind, making concentration extremely difficult.

The thyroid medication we had tried didn’t bring the improvement we had been hoping for. In fact, he was worse. The 3rd vet I consulted obtained Smooch’s records from the other two, then told me none of them had seen such an increase in white blood cells in so short a time. After x-rays and ultrasound, followed by a discussion among themselves about this ‘problem case’, they decided to use strong doses of cortisone and antibiotics in an attempt to stop the ravage. I showed some reluctance when they mentioned cortisone, and that’s when the vet warned me...there really wasn’t any other option.

I took my boy home and spent the week feeding him liver and praying that his red blood cells would fight back. The appointment for a follow up blood test was last night, and I sat in the waiting room, hugging my doggie and holding my breath. Fifteen minutes later, one of the vets came out with the results. Not cancer, but Hemolytic Anemia...a very dangerous condition where the immune system goes berserk, cause unknown.

“But look!” he said, pointing to the graph he was holding. “The white cells are still very high, but these are baby red blood cells.” He was cautiously optimistic, telling me that Smooch’s system, for the moment, is what he would call stable. Another week of treatment, then check the blood again, and make adjustments to the doses if necessary.

Just knowing it is not cancer gives me some relief. I read up on the condition last night and, although they say only 40% of such cases survive, I have this feeling that Smooch will be part of the group who makes it. The dreadful cortisone will give his red blood cells a chance to become warriors. They will take over, there will be the slow withdrawal from the drugs, and already I can picture my boy once again energetically romping in the long grass, searching for his green, squeaky ball. The picture makes me SMILE.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.