Asa goes to chemo

(Photo by Alecia Lauren.
www.alecialaurenphotography.com)

Why does his hair look like that? ~ my nephew, age 5 at the time

Deciding to do chemo was an agonizing choice.  If I said no, Asa and I would only have 2-ish more months together before the cancer was supposed to metastasize very quickly.  If I said yes, we would potentially get a few more months together – likely no more than 6 months - and chemo wouldn’t be an actual cure.  “This kind of cancer always metastasizes,” I was told, and there aren’t any other “optional” organs like his spleen.  Its favorite next targets are the liver and the heart – both dealbreakers.

I thought and stressed and thought and cried, and it all came down to the fact that I wasn’t ready to accept defeat and do nothing.  To me, the chemo was a Hail Mary pass, not just something to delay the inevitable.  (At the risk of bragging, my dog turned out to be Tim Tebow.  Our Hail Mary pass found a talented receiver downfield, and we’re now just a few days shy of 19 months since his diagnosis)

So we went for it – 5 IV treatments of Doxorubicin at the vet school, spaced every 2 weeks.  Then we started daily metronomic chemo pills at home, starting 2 weeks after the 5^th IV treatment.

Before the 1^st IV treatment, our vet oncologist Dr. R.R. recommended a cardiac consult to make sure his heart was strong enough to withstand the chemo (it’s poison afterall).  Asa passed the cardiac tests, and I thought it was just more $$$ down the drain.  But…  a few months later, Dr. R.R. told me of another dog who was diagnosed with hemangiosarcoma and started the same chemo protocol at about the same time as Asa.  Her owner decided not to do the cardiac consult in order to save a little bit of money, but the dog’s heart wasn’t strong enough, and she died from heart failure brought on by the chemo…  So you’ve been warned.

Each IV treatment made for a long day.  We had to be at the vet school between 8-9am, so we’d leave home at 7.  They would perform a full physical, bloodwork, x-rays, and an ultrasound (which required shaving his torso from his armpits to his man parts – not a good look!).  After all those steps (including standing in line for the ultrasound machines behind emergencies and surgeries), they would put in the order for the chemo cocktail, which took additional time but couldn’t be requested from the pharmacy until he was deemed ok to proceed.

The price of the IV chemo medicine fluctuated.  Apparently the batches come in various bulk sizes, and of course, Asa just so happens to weigh too much for one size and too little for the next largest size.  For the first couple of treatments, there was another dog on the same chemo, so I learned I was splitting the cost of the medicine with that dog’s owner.  For the final 3 doses, we were going it alone – so the cost of the drug itself doubled.  Only a couple hundred dollars difference each time, but still, it was another variable in an unknown world.  I found it stressful because there were so many changing variables, and I didn’t know what would come next – or if he’d even survive to the next treatment.

I should probably dedicate an entire post to the oddities of canine chemo.  It was such a rollercoaster to go through, but now in hindsight with a dog that survived because of it, I have some handy (even humorous) insights.  So more on this topic next time...


Tell me about your experience:

1. What are/were chemo days like for you and your pet?
2. What risks and side effects were you warned about?  Which ones came true?
3. What do you know now that you wish you had known then? (about whatever topic you choose :) )