9 pm
We had been waiting for a few weeks for the call. There wouldn’t be any warning, I thought to myself. It had seemed like an all-too similar story, but one perhaps a few chapters ahead. I wished I could flip to the end to see if this story would have a happy ending. But for now I just had to wait.
The call came at the most unexpected time. 9 pm on a Friday night. Nate and I had just gotten to Keystone for a friend’s wedding and I was excited to be away from things for a few days and was appreciative and reassured knowing Hudson was in good hands with a fantastic friend. Further up the road and atop a mountain, I was in the chip row at the Safeway comparing the various pros and cons between salty snacks. My heart sank when I saw the caller ID. It had really only been a few weeks earlier that things had been fine. Long, happy walks strutting his stuff. If you weren’t sure yet what you were reading about, it is none other than our dog, Hudson.
It all began one particular sleepy September morning when my world began to swirl. It started innocently enough. He seemed to be having some back pain. The vet prescribed some muscle relaxants and on our way we went. But two weeks later things still had not been resolved. We were referred to an internal medicine specialist whose bedside manner left much to be desired. Still, an ultrasound confirmed something was askew.
Having a patient that cannot talk must be an incredible barrier to diagnosing and treating them.
In the coming days we would learn that Hudson had a cystic mass in his lower abdomen. By this time it the air was October crisp and the leaves had begun to fall. Presented with two options, one of which we won’t discuss, and the other being a surgical intervention, we opted for the latter. The doctors felt quite strongly that this cystic structure was not cancerous as it was liquid filled and was not consistent with typical cancer profiles in this region of the body. A bioposy came back as benign, but it didn’t ease the stress of the situation.
The day of Hudson’s surgery came. The anticipation and anxiety was gripping, but one thing you quickly come to understand is that many people don’t choose to become a veterinarian just because it sounds nice on a resume. It is a labor of love.
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Three hours after the anticipated end of surgery a call still had not come through. Then it did. I happened to be in a meeting at the time and stepped out to take the call, my body on high alert. “Mr. Moore. I wanted to call to provide an update from Hudson’s operation today…” The surgeon was from Georgia and had a buttery southern accent. Although he spoke with acute surgical precision, it was perhaps the way he said things that made him seem personable, concerned and reassuring as he delivered his update. As the words continued to spout from my phone, I languished on interpreting each one, trying to make sense of what was being said. “Can you please explain what that means? How long do you think it will take him to recover? What did you need to do with his kidney? Cance…r…”
The news didn’t take us in the direction we had anticipated. Or the direction we had hoped. The surgery took double the time originally estimated and required the removal of one of Hudson’s kidneys. The surgeon and medical team now had serious reason to believe the game had changed. Cancer was a prime suspect. They selected their words carefully. “Potentially”, “may”, and “could be” were now part of this new vernacular. After three days, Hudson was able to come home, with one less kidney, a shaved belly, but the same beagle tenacity and playful zest.
Still, the second bioposy might prove that potential diagnosis to be incorrect, I hoped. It wouldn’t be for at least two more weeks until the final word was given. At 9 pm on a Friday night. In the chip row at that Safeway atop that mountain in Dillon, a million miles away from my hopes and aspirations for the situation. Sadly, this wasn’t the first time that diagnosis had been given. There had been another. His name was Henry. A scrappy, go-lucky pup who had been a stray-become-charmer-of-my-heart. My first dog on my own. My gateway drug into beagle fever. His loss was rough and raw but I couldn’t in my wildest imagination even fathom we would be here, in this dark place, again.
Pet illness and loss are surreal experiences. I’ve heard so many heart-wrenching tragedies at the local humane society pet loss support group. You find yourself in a position of making (at times very uncertain) decisions that you have to trust are the right ones for both you and your furry friend and family member. You think about how you have this responsibility of making life decisions we are not often given the ability or control to make in other situations. You think about the vet and how having a patient that cannot talk must be an incredible barrier to diagnosing and treating them. There are the incredible expenses that can so quickly mount. And the biggest factor: is this actually helping or at least maintaining the quality of life for my little guy?
Following his surgery, we decided it was best to transfer Hudson’s continued care up to Colorado State University’s Veterinary Teaching Hospital and the CSU Flint Animal Cancer Center. We are blessed to have such a fantastic facility within a relatively short distance with compassionate and supportive staff. In November, Hudson began a 5-stage chemotheraphy regime. Although the location and type of cancer is extremely rare and comparatively undocumented in medical research, this treatment is at present the best and least invasive (in terms of side-effects) option on the table at the moment. Today marks his third treatment, and despite the aggressive and insidious nature of the cancer, Hudson has continued to stay in overall good health and spirits.
For now, all that we can do is take each day as it comes and check in with ourselves and with Hudson. I‘ve learned before that it is so important to cherish whatever time there is and to provide a loving and supportive environment to the best of our abilities, for both human and dog kind. The ending of the story may already be predetermined, but how we choose to draft those last chapters has not yet been written ❤️.
