Make It A Triple
Mom took me back to the Kemo vet again today. I like my vet. She smells nice, and she knows how to scratch that really deep part of my ear that I can't reach with my hind paw. You know that really good itch that makes you scrunch up your face and go "errrrrr"? That's the one. She rubs my tummy, and gives me treats... And today she delivered good news.
My lymph nodes were holding steady. Not going down, but not growing, either. Apparently I have "weird cancer." My energy level, the way it's growing, the strangeness of response to tried-and-true treatment... The vet said that it's not acting like cancer she's seen. So it could respond to different drugs than your run-of-the-puppy-mill cancer. It's just a matter of finding the right cocktail. I told her I don't drink anything but water and sometimes chicken broth when I'm feeling particularly indulgent.
But the vet mixed me up a triple anyhow -- and today we're on the MOPP protocol for real. You may recall, dear confidant, that we only did two of the three drugs last week due to my rather wimpy white cell count? Today my white cells were present in force. So I got two drips and a take home Kemo, as well as antibiotics to keep those white cells at their bulldog best, and prednisone because it worked so well last time. Mom thinks that's a lot of pills. I think that's a lot of peanut butter.
Even better, the vet said she has three or four more tricks up her sleeve (goodness, I bet she's as well-credentialled as a Canine Good Citizen, like yours truly) just in case my cancer still doesn't respond. I'm going to go down fighting... Right after this nap.