Update: Lilly’s Lumpectomy

Maybe letting Lilly sleep in “the big bed” with us Tuesday night telegraphed that something was up. Maybe my ability to keep my worries to myself failed … because Lilly shook so hard with fear that the dog scale at the veterinary hospital sounded like an 18-wheeler going over a cattle grate.

It broke my heart, causing big, rolling tears to pour off my face and into Lilly’s fur as I tried to tell her that everything was going to be OK.

Veterinary Exam Last Week

Last Friday, Lilly went in for her first-ever “senior” wellness exam that included:

• Physical exam from tip to tail, including checking this lump of concern
• Massive bloodwork, including a complete blood count
• Urinalysis
• Fecal float
• Her leptospirosis vaccine

We have to space out her vaccines because if we give them all at once Lilly gets quite sick. So, I pre-dosed her with Benadryl. And, for extra anxiety control, I gave her a xanax … which we only use now as needed.

So, Lilly was happy, happy, happy to walk right into the veterinary hospital that day with only a few cares in the world.

Once inside the exam room, she tried various protective spots before settling in, but she did not seem anxious or overly concerned:

Lilly stayed calm and cooperative during her exam, both with me in the exam room and in the back of the hospital with the staff.

In fact, upon her return from the blood draw … while Lilly jumped into my lap and had a nervous kissing fit, our veterinarian told me that Lilly actively tried to comfort another dog. It, apparently, was having something done to its paw and was none too happy about it. Our vet say that Lilly kind of leaned over and offered some emotional support.

How cute is that?

My girl, who is NO fan of other dogs, showed empathy and concern for another pup.

Veterinary Surgery Check-In … Another Day, A Different Result

I tell you all this about her appointment BEFORE surgery because it went so well that I didn’t expect her surgery-day arrival to be a big deal.

I was wrong.

Granted, Lilly indeed walked across the parking lot and into the veterinary hospital without hesitation. None.

But, as soon as we asked her to hop onto the scale in the lobby, she started to shake … and shake … and shake. Clearly, it’s tough for Lilly to go without a dose of her meds.

She even growled a little at the veterinary technician who approached to lasso Lilly with one of their leashes. I should have controlled that better. I should have blocked for Lilly so that she could have approached the tech on her own terms.

But, once the shaking began, both of us fell apart. She more she shook, the more I cried.

Rattle, rattle, squeak went the scale … as several other dogs arrived for surgery check-in.

I’ve never been through an earthquake, but I imagine that’s what it sounds like … and maybe that’s what it felt like to Lilly. Poor sweetie.

I gave her my final kisses. I told her to “be good.” And, off she went.

Tears continued to roll as I completed all the pre-surgery paperwork. Sign here. Initial there. Yes, contact me if anything goes wrong, but do whatever it takes to save her, even if you cannot reach me. All that stuff.

By the time I’d finished, the technician came back out to report that Lilly had settled into her cage and was showing interest and curiosity about the goings-on in the back. So, that made me feel a bit better.

Rather than drive back up the mountain, I’d arranged to spend the day at a childhood friend’s house (which is just blocks from the hospital). With a friend at the ready, including her two new kitties — Tex and PJ, I tried to work. And, I actually got quite a bit done before our veterinarian called with a post-op report.

“Lilly was a rock star,”  she told me. “We didn’t need to use even IV sedation. She laid there very still, while we worked.”

That means with just local pain killers injected to numb the surgical area and one veterinary technician “lightly” restraining Lilly, our veterinarian got to work … taking out this lump right under Lilly’s skin.

The surgeon did indeed find a “solid mass” that she removed along with “wide margins” with hopes that they are “clean margins” if this turns out to be a mast cell tumor.

I forgot to ask her how big the lump really was, once she got inside. So, I don’t have that info to share, but the incision is a couple of inches and required 10+ staples to close. Lilly will get those staples out in 2 weeks.

(Those who are NOT squeamish can click through above to see the scar.)

We might have pathology news TODAY, so we’ll see. A friend who has been through this for the last 3 years with one of her dogs, tells me that there are 3 grades of mast cell tumors. The lower the number, the better.

The pathology news we’ll get, then, will tell us:

• Cancer … yes or no? If yes, what kind?
• Tumor grade

The good news about them NOT needing to use sedatives is that Lilly could come HOME much sooner. My friend and I went out to lunch as we’d planned, then I picked Lilly up and brought her home (by about 1:30 pm).

No Cone of Shame!

The typical cone of shame would not work for this incision that’s right on Lilly’s neck. So …

Check out this creative post-op pashmina I made from spare swaths of fleece to protect Lilly’s surgical site … so that she cannot scratch it open.

I doubled-up and tied the dark blue one around her neck. Then, I swung the lavender one over and under one of her arms. This lets me set the blue fabric’s knot over the incision and use the lavender one to hold it in place.

So far, Lilly is tolerating the scarves well, so the incision looks good and seems to be healing well.