You can still hope the vet is wrong -- at least until the results of the tests come in. And then there are just tears and sadness. Now we face the reality.
In mid- December we received some of the saddest news an Airedale owner wants to hear. Nearly a week after Hannah's visit to the vet, the vet called with test results. Hannah has kidney disease, spindle cell/soft tissue sarcoma, and lymphoma/lymphosarcoma.
The spindle cell cancer is slow to spread. But the lymphoma is another story. It could take Hannah's life in as little as six weeks and she could go from doing well in the morning to being on her deathbed in the evening. It's an awful prognosis.
I go through my days now wondering, which will be the last carrot I peel and chop for her breakfast? Which will be the last night Hannah cuddles against me on the bed? Is this playtime the last I'll see her bounce around and toss her toy in the air?
Hannah's first two years left her with a broken spirit and a fear of everything and nearly everyone. When she came to us she was underweight, knew no language--not even her name, had no idea how to go up and down stairs, and got carsick with every ride. She loved me first, maybe because I slept on the floor with her the first night, and adopted me as her mum. We were just going to foster her but I couldn't put her through one more transition. She's been with us 10 years, going on 11, and has adjusted to so many challenges. It's all just too sad to think her life will end with cancer.
We love Hannah to bits and continue to enjoy our time with her, whether she's sleeping near me on the couch, watchful for food that's fallen to the floor, nudging me for an ear-rub or a treat, or just playing. She is a dear, sweet Airedale.
I wish I could turn back the clock to before the test results, when there was still hope.