Julie Pippert: Using My Words

BEFORE: AFTER: The best birthday my dog ever had was one of his early ones, age 2. At the time, my husband and I were both working full-time so our dog, Bo, attended a fantastic local doggie daycare in Beverly (MA) run by a great guy named Joe. Joe loved planning parties. We had Halloween parties (with prizes for best doggie costume), playdates, holidays, and birthdays. The birthday cake was meatloaf with mashed potato frosting. It even had fancy script that read, "Happy Birthday to Our Best Friends!" Our dog is a best friend, a member of our family. Like other good friends and members of our family, he dealt with cancer. Luckily, we caught it early -- it was an ugly one with a very low (single digit) survival rate. So we've gotten to celebrate more birthdays with him, and that means so, so much to us. I love birthdays. I love the excuse for a party, a reason to celebrate, getting together with special people, cake (!), giving a gift, and even the singing. I love getting ...

Foreword: I'm not a medical person, or any kind of expert. This post shouldn't be taken as God's word carved in stone by Moses. In other words, don't consider it to be any kind of authority or use it to treat, diagnose, or select medications. Do your own research and talk to your doctor, an actual expert, who, you know, went to medical school and stuff. This post is merely my best understanding of cancer and cancer treatment and prevention, as related to our situation, based on what I've learned from reading and talking to doctors. Author's Note: If you aren't interested in the cancer discussion and the things I learned, and only want to know the outcome of our appointment with the oncologist yesterday, skip to the end. I've divvied this up by sections, so go to the last section. What would you do if one day a postcard arrived in the mail to warn you that sometime in the next three years you would be diagnosed with cancer? Would you believe it? Change an...

That Thing That Shall Not Be Discussed: It has been a rough week for me this week. I anticipated it would be, because the signs pointed that way. I knew it would be a week of tweaking my drug regimen to control symptoms, and it has been. I knew it would be hard to keep up with life's demands as I tried to care for myself, and it has been. I knew I'd get down and tired, and I have been. I started a new medication and it seemed to be doing some good so I was really hoping this week wouldn't happen. But it did. I had to ask too much of my husband and kids, again, as I couldn't really fulfill my full role. I hate that most of all. I hate feeling let down by my regimen of meds. I hate feeling disheartened. I hate feeling like my life is a battle to not be seriously ill. I hate the way the physical problems affect my emotions. But. If I'm honest, on the new drug regimen I am much better than a month ago. Some of the worst symptoms didn't manifest. We are getting close...

Adenocarcinoma. This is a common form of colorectal cancer. From About.com Definition of Adenocarcinoma Let's break it down. "Adeno-" is a prefix that means "gland." In general, glands secrete things and are classified as endocrine or exocrine. Endocrine glands secrete things into the bloodstream, like hormones. Exocrine glands secrete things that go outside of the body, like mucus and sweat. A carcinoma is a malignant tumor that starts in epithelial tissue. Put the two words together and you get "adenocarcinoma," which means a malignant tumor in epithelial tissue, specifically in a gland. Cause of Adenocarcinoma Virtually all adenocarcinomas develop from adenomas. In general, the bigger the adenoma, the more likely it is to become cancerous. For example, polyps larger than two centimeters (about the diameter of a nickel) have a 30-50 percent chance of being cancerous. You can learn more about polyp size and colon cancer risk by viewing the Polyp Size...

We stood in the small exam room at the veterinary surgeon's office Friday morning as he explained the procedure he and our regular vet believed was the best course of action for our dog. I tried not to wince because the concept of how he does the surgery made me cringe inside, in empathy. It sounded a lot like how childbirth hurts during and after, only without the balm of the baby. The surgeon was a young, interesting man. Apparently our questions and perspectives were extremely revealing about the sort of people we are. He was intrigued, and shared how he and his wife believed similarly to us. We mentioned a change in lifestyle---which is either an understatement or euphemism, depending upon how you look at it---for us and the dog when we moved here. "We do a lot less outdoors now. Before we moved, we hiked, walked the beach, took trips to the mountains...just so much activity, pretty much every day, some sort of activity," we told him, "But here, not so much. We ...

Friday a.m. My dog began acting so oddly I was concerned enough to call the vet. They squeezed me in for the morning appointment and I called my friend to take Persistence, and completely dropped everything planned for the morning. HIGH: Haven't thought of one yet. LOW: Dog is sick and my day was shot. noon After a thorough examination by the vet, the dog is declared to have tumors and we get an immediate referral to a surgeon. HIGH: The location of the tumor gives a hopeful possibility that it is benign, or at least not the most aggressive cancer. The vet is highly entertained by my story about Fuqua (that's Few KWAY not fuck WA) Street confusion. He said that story beats his former non-native favorite which was Bexar (that's BEAR not BEX arr) County confusion. LOW: My doggie is sick. My doggie needs surgery. My doggie is uncomfortable. My beautiful chocolate only 7 years old Lab might have cancer. And we are going to have to schedule surgery, which probably costs as...

Today I am finding someone with a shotgun. That shouldn't be too hard here. Today we're going coon hunting. My dog---by the way, the son of hunt champions who once upon a time was hunt trained (albeit for geese, not coons)---is in. I'm heading to the military surplus store for cammo and ammo and anything I need to succeed, because after last night...Romeo Raccoon Must Die! In case you missed our raccoon history: Part 1--- Rocky Raccoon Horror Picture Show Part 2---Over the Hedge- A Declaration of War Set: Our house, 11 p.m. or so, most of the house is dark, shut down for the night. Jon and I are working at the computers in the office. Kids are upstairs sleeping. Dog is lying asleep on the rug beside my desk chair. Enter: Two cats, meowily complaining. Julie: Hey did you feed the cats their dinner? Jon: Not yet. It's on the list. Cats escalate, jumping onto desk and swatting at typing fingers. Dog gets agitated, starts rustling about. Julie: Okay I think the time is now....

It all started the month before Christmas with the first indications of a break-in to our house. I'm a pretty light sleeper, especially after having kids. One night, some noises downstairs woke me. It sounded like someone was opening the pantry. Persistence , I thought, annoyed, on another midnight food raid . As I worked to open my burning, exhausted eyes, and convince my body It Had to Get Up and Go Save the Baby, I spared one irritated moment to wonder whether we had properly closed and latched the pantry before bed. When I got downstairs, the utility room and kitchen were trashed. And Persistence was upstairs asleep in her bed. I called my husband down. After much investigation, we decided our hyperthyroid cat Bubba must have lost his last noodle and gone on a bender. This theory held up in that every single morning that we got up, the cat bowl (filled completely the night before) was totally empty, and someone had been biting his way into the dog food bag and cat food containe...

This is my dog. Isn't he a fine specimen of doggiehood? Handsome. Son of champions. And, probably from his breeder's point of view, utterly wasted on us: the people who love him simply as a member of our family. We don't compete with him, or hunt with him or hunt compete with him or anything. His main claim to fame is the ability to lick a dirty baby clean in under 10 seconds and one time he swam across Ipswich Bay from Wingaersheek Beach. A sailboat tried to rescue him, as did two sea kayaks, but he was determined. His favorite tennis ball was at stake. With many seacraft and a few life preservers around him, he paddled and paddled until he had rescued that ball and then---and only then---did he return to shore. That, my friends, exemplifies how stout of heart and body my dog is. He also strongly adheres to his own code of ethics. In other words, he is pretty resistant to training. We went through doggie kndergarten twice, obgility twice, hired a private trainer once, and ...