Diagnosis: Cancer

Two weeks ago, I wrote about taking my cuddly, black/silver best friend, Jazz, to the oncologist for his regularly scheduled melanoma vaccine. My small buddy and body warmer was diagnosed with melanoma two years ago. After the discovery during a routine dental cleaning, he had surgery and radiation. He has been getting the vaccine for two years and all has been well.

When I had written about Jazz two weeks ago my gut instincts made me apprehensive because Jazz had trouble picking up one of his favorite toys- a ball. As I proceeded to check his mouth, he yelped. I wanted to believe it was an abscessed tooth but in my heart, I couldn’t shake this knawing feeling.

The distance to Jazz’s oncologist is over an hour from my home. The drive only allowed me time to contemplate and allow my thoughts to sink even deeper.

As we arrived on Monday, November 18th, we waited while Jazz shook unctrollably in the waiting area. Actually, as soon as we drove into the parking lot, he shook. We comforted each other as we waited.

As the doctor asked how Jazz was doing, the words I dreaded to tell her spilled out of me. As soon as she pulled back Jazz’s lower lip, I read her face and knew immediately. I wasn’t shocked. I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t anything. Jazz required an x-ray of his chest to see if any cancer had spread to this lungs.

As we waited with baited breath for the results which took quite awhile, the oncologist informed us he needed surgery. His lungs were clear. I breathed a sigh of relief.

The surgery was scheduled for the very next day. It would require removing part of his jaw bone and possibly some teeth. It was nearing 5:30 pm.She suggested Jazz stay overnight because they needed to prep him starting at 10 AM. Needless to say, Jazz came home that night. He would, however, have to stay the next night after his operation.

When Jazz and I arrived the next morning, we met the surgeon who explained the entire operation. It was much more involved than we first told. What was going to be a minor operation turned into the removal of a good chunk of his jaw bone and quite a few teeth. The surgeon was patient and answered all of my questions. It was time to say goodbye to Jazz. Watching him being led away in the arms of someone else and into another room where I could no longer see him led me to their bathroom where I sat and cried.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. Jazz was happy, playful, had a great appetite and showed no symptoms other than what I mentioned earlier. How did this happen? How did I notice this earlier? Was I a bad pet parent to not see the growth inside of his mouth? I was so diligent about checking his mouth. In the end, none of it mattered. I had to deal with the here and now.

I waited on pins and needles to hear Jazz made it through surgery fine. It took two hours to do all they wanted to complete. I could finally breathe when the surgeon called me and said he came through the surgery very well.

After coming home, we readjusted our lives to accomodate Jazz’s new routine. What became the biggest shock to me was when I had a complete view of Jazz’s mouth. I was careful not to disturb the area. I saw a chunk of his jaw, lip and a number of teeth completely gone. There was a gaping hole on the lower part of his mouth. I was warned his tongue may hang out and he probably will drool. Neither has happened but it doesn’t matter to me. I only want and need Jazz to be ok.

Jazz is feeling better each day and his personality is resuming a bit every day. What awaits is the outcome of the biopsies.

Has all the cancer been removed? If not, will he only need radiation? Has the cancer moved past the original site? Has the cancer remained in Stage I like last time?

I have no answers so I wait anxiously and nervously and at the same time, I don’t know if I want to know. I can’t fathom going through more heartache.

The results should be revealed very soon. Right now, I treasure each and every moment with Jazz as I always have. I’m so thankful that he hasn’t allowed this setback to change his personality. He’s adjusting but he is still the same Jazz albeit a bit subdued. His mouth is still sore and is healing. He can’t afford to injure the area.

I will do whatever it takes to make Jazz better. I’ve been his rock again. Inside this rock is someone who wants to crumble at the mere thought that all of the cancer isn’t gone.

Two years almost to the day Jazz is fighting this dreaded disease again. Let’s hope all of it is gone and we can continue with our lives.