Getting the Hang of It

I finally figured out a few things about taking care of Raven.

One of them is that she has good days and bad days. Each bad day doesn't mean we're at the end, and each good day doesn't mean we've turned the corner. Yesterday was a good day, in fact, a magically good day. Today seems to be a good day, too, as while her feet are still swollen, she came halfway on the walk with us this morning.

I am working on having some kind of serene baseline of my own that doesn't get disrupted with every good and bad day that Raven has. I won't say it's been a stunning success, as my poor sister-in-law found out when she asked me, in all innocence, how Raven is doing and I burst into hysterical sobbing. And that was yesterday, on a GOOD day! But I'm trying.

I've also pledged to not neglect the other dogs while caring for Raven. Raven doesn't need and doesn't like me hovering over her, and the other dogs still need my attention, need to enjoy this early fall we're having here, to be taken out to run and down to the creek to splash around. And I need it, too.

Raven's swollen feet first improved quite a bit after we discontinued the IL-2, but the swelling came back after two days off the treatment. From this  we concluded that most likely it was not an allergic reaction or even a side effect, and is probably related to the lung tumors disrupting her circulatory system. The only real hope is to shrink the tumors, so yesterday I started the IL-2 again. Other than it irritating the heck out of her eyes - I've sealed up the edges of the mask to the best of my ability but some is obviously leaking out - she is tolerating it well this time. Well, she's not necessarily tolerating it any better than before, it's more that I now understand that this IS powerful medicine, it's NOT benign, and that even though it makes her feel like crap it might still be helping her.

I came to this conclusion after talking to a number of people who had gone through painful and distressing cancer treatments themselves, who said, "Yes, I wanted to die while I was having chemo. But I didn't die, and now I'm alive, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat." The catch,  of course, is that we don't know if we'll win this bet or not. I might be making Raven feel crappy and not shrinking her tumors at all. But when I look at the results of the small study on IL-2 nebulization on dogs with lung tumors, it seems that all the dogs, even the ones who didn't get a long-term remission, did still get some benefit from it in terms of tumor shrinkage. And if that is what's causing her swollen feet, then this is the best way to fix that.

As to making her feel crappy, she actually doesn't seem to feel all that crappy. She's tired but not depressed, her bloodwork and urinalysis were almost completely normal, she's become a bit finicky about her food but she is eating, and I think if her poor swollen feet didn't hurt so much, this wouldn't be too bad a time for her. And it doesn't appear the swollen feet are from the IL-2. Of course, "appear" is the key word here, because there is a lot we just don't know. This is an experimental therapy without a lot of data or clinical experience to draw on, and dogs don't talk so I can't even ask her what she thinks.

I get several emails every day asking me how Raven is doing, and links to her story are posted pretty frequently to email lists (I can see people clicking in when I look at my Typepad tracking data), so I wanted to let her many friends know what's going on. I do love all my dogs, in fact, I love all dogs, period, but sometimes there's one who just gets to you in a certain way, and she got to me like that a long, long time ago.

Please keep the good thoughts, white light, candles, prayers, and best wishes flowing her way. When it comes to things spiritual, these days I mostly alternate between flat skepticism and desperate superstition, but now and then something  crystal clear and  clean breaks through, that feels an awful lot like  serenity, and if it's coming from you, Raven and I thank you.

Comments

[Judi]

Hi Christie,
I know how certain dogs can get to you. My aussie got to me the night I brought her home from the pound, and she still gets to me 9 years later.

You don't know me, so I haven't said anything, but I am thinking of you and Raven a lot and checking for updates.

I picture you and your family, esp. Raven, in golden healing light, breathing fully and evenly, feeling joy and contentment and love for one another.

Thank you for the gift of sharing your and Raven's lives through your words.

Judi

[KathyF]

I think she knew she'd need you one day--that's why she picked you out of all the others.

Stay strong.