Playing with his kind

Saturday, October 2nd

We went to our first Bay Area Great Dane meet-up since Cas's surgery
the weekend after our non-chemo Davis trip. This was a joint meetup with the Sacramento group, so there were about 30 danes there! Cas was reunited with some of his Dane friends. Sweetness.

It was quite a trek for him to get up over the hill to the Dane's spot at Point Isabel, but he did it happily. He played a bit, stood a lot, and reveled in all the attention. It was a big workout for him, but he did great!

And we both (okay so me more than him) got to nap it off on the drive home.



I made him sit for a break in the middle. That way he could rest and I could make weird faces. Can you find the bed head in this picture? =P




He is gaining confidence every day, though he is a bit nervous when dogs are running fast near him. Last week on our morning park trip, two huskies were running around in huge circles when Cas decided to make his way toward me in the center of the park. Well, they ran right behind him, FAST, and Zoe ran right into his nub. (Zoe is an adorable husky who I can't help but think of as Hoshi in a Husky suit. Hoshi is my sweet grey kitty.)

He started yelping and crying and looking back at his hip. It was horrible. Absolutely horrible. I ran over and put his bum on my lap to take all the weight out of his back leg. He kept crying. About a minute later he was hopping tentatively around again.

He was fine. I think he was more scared than anything. He's still a tad trepidatious when dogs run crazy-style around him. Understandably so.


He has resumed his marking all over the park again, so I know that he's feeling like the big dog around here again. Just watch him show this stick who's boss.

Castor almost has seconds

Thursday, September 30th

No second chemo yet
I took Castor for a blood test two weeks post-chemo to check on his white blood cell (WBC) count. The oncologists have to monitor the levels to make sure they don't drop too low. The normal range for a WBC count in the dog is around 6,000 to 17,000 leukocytes (a blood component by any other name would smell as ...well...bloody?) per microliter.

At Davis, they will not administer chemo drugs if the WBC count is below 2,000. If it's below 1,000, they put the animal on an antibiotic course to safeguard against any infections that might arise, given their low immunity.

Castor's CBC (complete blood count) was normal at the two week mark, so we went to Davis on the 30th for his second chemo treatment. Again, he was to get treatments every three weeks for a total of six treatments.

Rob, Robyn, and I dropped him off and ventured into the six-block area of downtown Davis to find sustenance. The plan was for the hospital to run a CBC prior to treatment, treat, and go home. It takes a couple to a few hours each time.

It was on the short side of that when a tech called to let me know Cas was done. Almost rhetorically, I asked, "so everything went fine?"

"No, we couldn't treat him today," he says.

"Ha ha," I thought. I do like smart asses, so I just chuckled. Just to make sure though, "are you kidding?"

"No, really. His white blood cells were too low to treat him today."

My heart sped up, and suddenly my fancy for garlicy fries vanished. (Poof!) And though I waited patiently for further explanation, the line was mute. It turns out he needed an invitation to provide further details. Odd.

After failing to be reassured Cas was alright, I decided to just speak with someone (else, preferably) in person. We finished eating in about 2 minutes and left for the hospital.

After speaking with someone (else - yay!) when I picked Cas up, I felt better. Apparently, some pets' counts dip down again around the three week mark. The tech explained that his body can uptake the chemo again from his kidneys as it's being processed causing that second dip in the numbers.

His WBC count was about 700, so they sent us home with Clavamox...again. =\ It doesn't seem to be worryingly abnormal. It just means he'll have to be on a once-every-four-weeks schedule. We would have to go for another visit next week.

Fortunately, we already had an appointment with the physical therapist the following Thursday. Unfortunately, Cas would have rather not visited with the oncology staff again. Oh, well. We've already agreed to roll with the punches, to expect the unexpected.

On the bright side, we learned more about chemotherapy and what to expect from Castor. I was also reminded of the power of support and solidarity.

Being there, wherever there is
In the waiting room, we met a couple with a beautiful mastiff, just diagnosed with Cancer. He had a seriously large tumor on his spleen. ("I've never seen a tumor that big with a dog still up and about," said the vet, clearly oblivious to the impact of her unnecessary candor.) Talking to them took me briefly back to the first day I found out about Castor's tumor.

I was grateful to be in a less hysterical, more familiar place. I found a place of acceptance, which allowed me to find a path of care and treatment. The optimism with which I managed to imbue Castor's and my path has made all the difference.

Still gently wafting his head in disbelief, the mastiff's friend said, "it's just not fair," after I told him why Castor was at the hospital. I could only smile and say, "it's so great that we get to help them through it though." Of course, despite my sincere gratitude, I could hardly keep my tears in their tear duct home.

Then, I decided to let them roll on down. There's nothing wrong with expressing these emotions. It's not about defeat or grief. It's all about love.

It was good to feel my love, feel their love, and share our burdens, if even for a few minutes. As Cas hopped out to me, wholly excited, full of love, and dragging the tech behind him, they both said, "that's the prettiest dane I've ever seen."

My thoughts and prayers are with them all. ♥