Every day is a good one ...

I know it's been a while since I've mentioned how Tank's doing. I started to several times but rambled on so much I'd finally just hit SAVE. Then when I'd go back, I'd start rambling away even more.

I'm starting to ramble again, aren't I. Dang. Okay, here goes.

In early August when all of this started, he had only weeks and since ALL it would have been Hell, we would have made sure he didn't have to go through it. Our choice was, through treatment, to give him the best quality of life we could for however long it might last. It's now over three months later, and he's doing well.

That doesn't mean there haven't been ups and downs. About six weeks ago out of no where instead of having periodic constipation, Tank went completely in the other direction. He also started having spells, sometimes toppling over during or after peeing or dumping. Dr. LaDue said he was having mild seizure activity. She recommended tests to make sure Tank's organs were functioning correctly to rule that out as a possible cause. The results, of course, came back perfect.

Meanwhile, Tank's diarrhea was increasingly under control thanks to Imodium, but every time I tried taking him off of it per Dr. LaDue's instructions it came right back. So instead following her directions, I started doing my own thing and began backing him off it far more slowly. Not based on any formula but simply on Tank's . . . dumps.

And I thought I'd noticed something, too. I wasn't sure until I started picking through my scribble-scratch. Then I was. (Or as certain as anyone can be when even after all this time doesn't feel like they know what the hell they're doing with this. And probably never will.) Tank was only having a spell when his butt turned into Mount Vesuvius.

At the same time this was going on, growths had been found on Tank in a location no one had ever thought to check before: on his unsheathed penis. The next tests would be and become progressively more invasive to see if "something else" was also growing inside him that might be causing the seizures.

Sitting in the dark on the steps that night, the night before Tank's appointment the next day, scritching his ears I said my goodbye. Whatever the next day brought I was ready. Or, as ready as I could be. If the biopsy results showed the growths were malignant, no. No more tests.

Hubby came out later carrying "THE OFFICIAL ‘POOP PATROL' FLASHLIGHT" and I went inside. Tank wobbled off after him.

Inside, I later heard something I hadn't in quite some time: Tank barking.

The next day, the results of the biopsy were that the thingies on Tank's thinger are no-thing. They're completely benign old-age growths.

And once we got Tank's eruptions stopped, so did the spells.

Right now Tank's on antibiotics for a bladder infection that popped up and, oh. He's constipated again but as you can see, he's going like gang busters.

Like scampering around grabbing sticks trying to get me to play fetch; or wagging, barking his brains out at me when he gets to the back steps before I can; or (since at 12+ he just can't run the way he used to) slapping the soccer ball Starbuck tries to taunt him with, right out of his face.

Repeatedly.

Until he can grab it.

Tank's still in remission and has five more treatments to go. Since we're into the bi-weekly chemo now, that's 10 weeks. After that, who knows what's going to happen.

As I said from the start it's a crap shoot. Only in very rare cases is Canine Lymphoma NOT ultimately fatal. Every day that he's happy is a good day.

Previously:

Invisible dog food
Week Five
Week Four
Week Three
Week Two -- Part Three.
Week Two -- Part Two (We begin).
Week Two -- Part One.
Week One.

LATER: Linked with this week's Carnival of the Dogs