The Horrible Truth
I talked to my new vet about the interpretation of Buford’s most recent scan. The mass of lymph nodes or nodules. If you are looking at him sideways, the mass would rest above his (p*nis) and under his back. This cluster contains maybe 5 nodes, of which 3 are now enlarged to 4.2 cm x about 2cm. So, the initial interpretation in January showed one node at about 3.75cm. The first node has grown from 3.75cm to 4.2cm (not a big growth in three months). Now that may be good considering I starved his system of carbs, but not good for Buford, considering the cancer said “Screw you for starving me” and spread to two more nodes. Imagine if they keep growing in size, he will be unable to poop or pee. So here is a pretty accurate photo of what’s going on inside him. Buford has a mass the size of a small coconut!
Buford is tall and that is unusual for his breed. He always was a bit different than other basset hounds and now I’m glad he’s as long as he is lanky tall because he obviously has spare room that this alien type mass is taking up and he doesn’t even seem to notice it. He’s obviously not in pain but even though he sometimes strains to poop he still is pooping huge masses.
I’m scared to leave Buford alone, because at the first sign of strain or struggle or pain, I will put him down and have been considering methods of doing so. Also he has gotten used to me overcompensating since I found out the cancer has returned, and he’s spoiled now. He will act up and get to be a nervous wreck if I leave him home.
Two days ago, I took him to my office with me. I just had a conversation with the neighbor Dave at work, who has a house next to my office. He just put down his basset hound, Molly. She was 14 and a pretty old girl. He was telling me, that someone could come to your home or workplace and put your dog down. He went over to his house to get the number for me in case of an emergency.
Immediately as if on queue Buford then started barking at me and ran clear across the work property like a rabid dog barking and hooting and hollaring, and ran…and ran, and ran and ran. Across three and a half acres he ran, laps. Galloping like a baby horse, wagging his tail, barking, jumping, playing as if to say “Oh no you don’t, look at me, look at me, I’m fine.” He ran so much I thought for sure he’d drop dead. I was exhausted just watching him.
What is sad is that Buford wants to live and has so much energy still. He maybe doesn’t know he’s sick or that this alien thing is growing inside of him. Or he knows something that I don’t. What is he trying to tell me?
Yesterday he wanted to go for a walk. He drug my fat butt a half mile up the road and back. I had to run to keep up with him.
I just don’t understand how is he so energetic and appears so healthy when he’s technically got a baby sac of cancer inside him? I know I should take it one day at a time but I’m puzzled. The diagnosis doesn’t fit the way in which he’s acting.
Molasses and Baking Soda. My last hope.
Yes, I’m trying it.