A Vizsla, an Osteosarcoma and an Emergency Vet all walk into a bar…

Welcome to Hank’s Blog!!

As I tried to decide where to start with our story, I went back and forth between inserting everyone into where we are now (one leg less, in the middle of chemotherapy, daily meltdowns…), and telling our story from the beginning. I elected to go with the latter, mostly because I think reflecting back on my life with Hank will be therapeutic, but also to give everyone a better idea of who we are and how our past together led us to our current stage in life. I am open to most kinds of therapy and even though mine typically involves a large glass of ________ (insert my alcoholic beverage choice for that particular day/crisis),  I love to write and there is no reason why I can’t pair my alcoholic beverage with writing. Plus, I was told recently by my mother that I am funnier through the written word than I am in person. Still not sure if that’s a compliment or a burn…..

So we begin…..

Clearly, I’m a vet, so my ability to accumulate degenerate animals is pretty amazing. However, since I have been a renter for the majority of my adult life, there has always been an annoying “cap” on this number, so I have had to make due with one or two cats and one or two dogs to avoid being obvious about lying to my landlord about how many animals I actually have (“No, thats not a new cat….its my mom’s cat who I am watching for a few weeks…. or years. Dont worry, she will be wont be here for long”….suckers).  I had gone through college with one cat (“Lulu”- most often referred to as “Little Shit”) and my childhood dog, Roscoe, who passed away when I was an undergrad.  So it was just Lulu and I (and an ex-husband, but I digress) when I moved from the Western slope to Loveland, Colorado to start veterinary school at CSU in 2008.

I was a competitive runner at the time and one Sunday afternoon in broad daylight while on a jog, some homeless douche bag made the mistake to try to attack me from behind. I was able to get away thankfully and run to safety, but that’s when I decided that I needed a big, scary dog (I was envisioning “The Beast” from the movie the Sandlot) to accompany me on my runs. After lots of looking, one of my besties from vet school got me turned onto Vizslas as a breed because she had recently adopted one from a local Vizsla rescue and was in love. These dogs were considered sleek, athletic, intelligent, fast, “velcro dog” snugglers that could not only run, but cuddle…the perfect mixture. And then came Hank…..a goofy 1-year old Vizsla who when I met him for the first time, shoved his face in my crotch (and Im not talking a gentle nudge….he was all up in there as if he was trying to judge my underwear choice for that day), dragged me around the block on our first walk and tried to bite my ex-husband….ahhhh- it was love at first sight.

One of the first Hank pics. It captures his personality impeccably

Pre-10k we ran together in 2010.

Fast forward 7 years an Hank was by my side through it all- finally completing vet school, going through a rigorous internship program, a divorce, multiple moves, etc. He was always there to “crotch punch” me with his nose (this became his signature move and when that stopped working to get my attention, the “ass punching” began) when I walked in the door, to sit with me when I had a meltdown after working multiple 16-hour shifts in a row and realizing I had no wine in my fridge, to accompany me on whatever hike/run/bike/snowshoe/cross country ski trip we were doing that day and to always be counted on to growl or bark at whatever male made the mistake of entering my “bubble”/apartment/car with him around. Well, except for one…..Adam. My current live-in partner who I am in love with and am thankful for for many reasons….one of the most importantly is, however, that he may love Hank almost as much as I do.

It was a Saturday night and I was at work when I decided to take x-rays of Hank’s left forelimb because he had an ever-so slight limp I had noticed on Thursday. Whats interesting to me is if a client had come to me with an active, 8-year old larger breed dog with as mild of a limp as Hank had, I would have sent them home with anti-inflammatories and pain medications and told the client to not waste their money on x-rays this early. I would usually recommend rest for 1 week and then if they were still limping, to return for x-rays. In Hank’s case, that may have been the difference between life and death….  It was about 2am and it had been a horrible night in the ER when I asked one of my nurses to help me gets some rads (x-rays) of Hank’s leg. I remember when I looked at that screen and the x-ray popped up, I had in some way already known what I was going to see……

Osteosarcoma: a malignant tumor of bone in which there is a proliferation of osteoblasts (the type of cell that makes up bone).

Osteosarcoma is pretty much the only cancer in dogs you can diagnose with an x-ray alone. Damn it for that. Instant diagnosis = instant realization of badness.

After staring at the screen for what seemed like 2 hours hoping that the image would correct itself and I really wasn’t seeing that my own dog had a bone tumor, I am pretty sure I blurted out some inappropriate expletive, helped get Hank off the x-ray table and walked him back to his kennel were I sank to my knees and cried with his muzzle in my hands for what seemed like days.

That’s where we begin…..with my dog, newly diagnosed with Osteosarcoma, and myself, newly diagnosed as a veterinarian with no more medical knowledge whatsoever about OSA/cancer/surgery/pain management now that it comes to my own pet- the result of a little thing called unconditional love.

Now begins our journey.

LP