Our Maddy Has Cancer

Earlier this week, I took our beloved eight-year-old (she just turned nine yesterday) Dalmatian, Maddy, to the veterinarian. She has a swelling on her right front leg that would rise and fall, and suddenly quit falling, swelling up more than ever. I posted the bad news on Twitter after delivering it to my wife: the dog who was our first child has cancer.

Canine Osteosarcoma, to be exact. From Wikipedia:

Osteosarcoma is the most common bone tumor in dogs and typically afflicts middle-age large and giant breed dogs such as Irish Wolfhounds, Greyhounds, German Shepherds, Rottweilers, Doberman Pinschers and Great Danes. It has a ten times greater incidence in dogs than humans. A hereditary base has been shown in St. Bernard dogs. Spayed/neutered dogs have twice the risk of intact ones to develop osteosarcoma.

The picture above is an X-ray of a healthy dog leg. The picture to the right is our Maddy's X-ray. In the far right of the picture of the healthy dog leg, you can see the large bone that is missing in Maddy's leg -- literally eaten away from the inside out by the cancer cells. The two bones in the healthy X-ray are the ulna and radius, though I couldn't tell you which is which. In Maddy's leg, one is completely eaten away and the other is very, very deteriorated. The large swelling, I understand, is a result of her body trying to fight the cancer.

The vet, who we have used for the first time but who came highly recommended, prescribed prednisone for her, to fight the inflammation and help relieve the pain. I'm not convinced yet that it is doing either, though all that I have read about it says that it takes several days of continuous use to have the desired effect. So far, it seems to have only succeeded in causing her to be more thirsty and urinate more.

We haven't yet decided what course of treatment to take. The doctor mentioned three options: amputation of the leg plus chemotherapy; amputation alone; pain management only. He seemed to believe that her case was too far progressed for amputation and chemotherapy to do much to prolong her life or improve the quality of what time she has left, which he says may be as little as three months or as many as six.

Again, studying the situation seems to suggest that amputation would greatly relieve her pain and improve the quality of the time she has remaining. It also seems that amputation plus chemotherapy might give her as many as four to ten months more life. However, all of the studying in the world doesn't necessarily apply to Maddy's case.

My wife and I are currently struggling with watching our Maddy. We keep hoping that she will just get better. It's hard not to do that. And we struggle with whether to try to just help her manage the pain, amputate the leg, or amputate and treat with chemotherapy. The struggle for me is that my own mother lost her fight with cancer several years ago. She started chemotherapy and ended it shortly thereafter, convinced that the treatment only made her feel worse and wouldn't prolong her life or add any quality to it. Reports suggest that chemotherapy in dogs does not have the same dramatic side effects as it has in people. I just don't know.

What I do know is that we love our dog, and we don't want to lose her. But we also have faith in God, and know that everything that happens is for His purpose. Sometimes, though, it's hard to accept that His purpose might mean taking away a loved one, like our Maddy.

Yesterday was her ninth birthday. She's been with us since she was six weeks old, long before either of our children were born. We had a birthday party for her today, and pampered and spoiled her. She had a hot dog to eat, plus two new hot dog squeaky toys. She had several doggie cookies, and one real cupcake, which she absolutely loved.

Tomorrow, I'll be speaking with the vet again about his thoughts on amputation, chemotherapy, or just pain management. I just need to make sure that whatever decision we make, we are making as informed a decision as possible. I need to make sure that we aren't making a selfish decision. I don't want to prolong her life just to keep her with us longer if it will be a miserable life for her. But I don't want to just manage the pain if more aggressive treatment might add some quality months or years to her life. It won't be an easy decision to make, whatever we decide. I just wish Maddy could tell us what she would choose.

Your comments?

Joe


Maddy's Cancer Battle

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Happy Mothers Day, Mom!

Today I'll be spending Mothers Day with my wife, my kids, and my wife's family. Happy Mothers Day to all who have done (or are doing) the hardest and most important job of all: Mothering.

To my own, Mother, who went to be with the Lord several years ago, a very special Happy Mothers Day.

I love you, Mom!



Your comments?

Joe

AJA Press | #TCOT
podsafe music network | ioda promonet | magnatune | airplay direct
ariel publicity | kennedy resource development | populuxe records | indie heaven
miles high productions | iris distribution | chavis records | after hours music

Remembering Mom

Seven years ago today, my mother lost her battle with cancer. She left us and went to be with the Lord. We have learned since then that Mom was the glue that bound the family together. Not that we have any major differences. We just aren't as close as we once were.

The night before Mom passed away, after visiting her in the hospital, I sat in my living room in tears, writing the following poem. That next day -- the day that she left us -- not very long before she passed away, my sister read this poem to my Mom for me, as I sat by her bedside. Shortly after, Mom passed away, with her children at her side. That was seven years ago today.

I share it here, in remembrance of my Mother.

Mother:

From my earliest memory, you were there.
Of course you were there --
you were always there.
There to love me and guide me through life.
There to praise me and discipline me at times.
There to raise me into a man some day.

You were there when I fell off my tractor and passed out.
You were then when I rode on dad's motorcycle with him.
You were there when I ran my bike into a car on Bailey Avenue and skinned myself all up.
You were there when I needed stitches 'cause I fell off the back steps of the trailer and hit my head on the electric box.
You were there when I needed stitches 'cause I got hit with a door at Liberty Elementary School.
You were there to discipline me when I caught the field on fire at Countryside Village.

You were there when I played Hot Wheels and Legos on the pool table with Bill.
You were there when Mrs. Dirk punished me for books that she had misplaced.
You were there when I came in second in the city-wide Spelling  Bee: I'll never forget the word "mischievous."
You were there when I invited Christ into my heart.

You were there when I demo'd the Tandy computer during the Science Fair at Wilson Junior High.
You were there when I sung in the chorus in Junior High.
You were there when I got half the family stung by bees, or hornets, or whatever, at World's End State Park. We knew it wasn't really the world's end, because God promised he wouldn't destroy the earth by flood again, but it certainly rained enough.
You were there when I spent my twelfth Easter in the hospital with a hernia.
You were there when I slipped on the ice twice and broke my wrist.

You were there when I got my first car for $250. Thank You.
You were there when I wrecked my first car for two minutes of senseless driving.
You were there when my license was revoked for all pleasure driving.

You were there when I graduated High School.
You were there when I left for the Army.
You were there for countless Christmases when I wasn't there.
But your care package always brought Christmas to me.

You were there when I finally came home from the Army.
You were there when I needed a place to stay.

You were there through the good times and bad in my life.
You were there to support me when I needed support.
There to comfort me when I needed that more.

And now, there you are, lying fragile and sick.
And I'm here for you mom, cause you've been here for me.
I'm here 'cause you were the best mom a son could want.
I'm here 'cause I love you, mom.
I'm here 'cause I hate to let you go.

But more than that, I hate to see you suffer so.
I'm here, mom. I'm here. 

And some day, when God's Plan is all said and done.
I'll see you again, mom, in Heaven, someday.
And on this day, it's that day for which I pray.
To see you again.
To hear you laugh once again.
To see you smile once again.\

I'm here, mom. I'm here.
And I love you so much.
And I'll miss you, dear mom.
But if you must go.
I know you'll be better off.
I know I'll see you again soon -- but not soon enough.

In the meantime, I pray you'll be watching to see.
All of the things I hope one day to be.
A good husband and father, like my dad always was.
A successful author. Yeah, that's still my dream.
And a more Christ-like Christian, like both you and dad are.

I hope you'll see my wedding, and the birth of our kids.
And the first home I buy, whereever it is.

But most of all, mom, there's one thing I pray.
I'll be home this Christmas, and I hope you are, too -- if not in body, then in spirit.

I'm here, mom, to say, "Thank You."
For giving me life.
For giving me love.
For giving me hope.
For giving me the best a
son could have.

I love you, mom.
I love you.

March

1, 2002

That poem was read at my Mother's funeral. I miss you, Mom!

Thankfulness: Family

Part two in my short Thanksgiving series about Thankfulness.

FAMILY

Thanksgiving has long been my favorite of holidays. I could list hundreds of reasons, which would take me all night to write and you all night to read it, so I'll trim this to just a few.

I love turkey. Really. And one of the biggest things I look forward to as the holiday season rolls around is that awesome turkey dinner. Oh, and the mashed potatoes, and rolls, and corn, and gravy, and on and on and on.

But most importantly, I love family, and Thanksgiving in my family was always a huge event, with all of the family gathering together for food, fun, and, well, more food.

My mother and grandmother used to work their fingers to the bones every year preparing for us the best possible Thanksgiving feast that love could prepare. Turkey with all the trimmings. And as much as I think of myself as a traditionalist, frankly I don't need all the trimmings. Just the staples for me, thank you.

After slaving and slaving in a hot kitchen all morning (and now I realize that might be a bit selfish of me to enjoy a holiday that required such hard work on the parts of Mom and Gram), we'd gather around the table around 1 o'clock for the feast of the year (bigger even than Christmas). Dad would ask God's blessing over the meal and the hands that prepared it, and we'd dig in, all of us in turn giving thanks for what we felt blessed with. Then we would eat. And eat. And eat (are you noticing a pattern here?).

After dinner, everyone would just BE. Yeah, just BEing is one of my favorite things to do. You know, you sit around, talk, watch TV, play games, whatever you want to do. Some of us would even take a [tryptophan induced] nap. But we would all just BE, and would BE together.

As the day progressed, every adult member of the family would get a small slip of paper, where they would write their name and a couple of ten to twenty dollar gift suggestions. The slips would all go into a hat, and each adult family member would then draw a name for the Christmas gift exchange. This helped to defray the cost of gift-giving, as the biggest gift we could give each other come Christmas was just BEing -- together, that is.

Mom's gone now. I remember her last Thanksgiving (and her last Christmas) with very mixed emotions. Very happy because we were all together once again for my favorite holiday. Very sad because we all knew -- though no one voiced it -- that it was probably Mom's last Thanksgiving. For while we were eating turkey and all trimmings, Mom was being eaten from the inside out by cancer, and the doctors couldn't seem to find it.

That was the last year I spent Thanksgiving with my family. The family I grew up with, I mean. Because being in Retail Management makes it very hard to work late the day before Thanksgiving prepping for the big Black Friday sales, then drive eight hours round trip on Thanksgiving day, then be back at work very early on Black Friday. Because my family -- I and my wife and children -- now spend every Thanksgiving with my in-laws, who live just across town. Because Thanksgiving will just never be the same without Mom. Nothing will.

So, this Thanksgiving, as with every day of the year, I am extremely thankful for Family. For Mom and Dad, Gram and Granddad, Sisters and Brother. For Sister and Brothers by Marriage. For Niece and Nephews. For Wife, Son, and Daughter. And yes, even for my in-laws. Because there is no one more important walking the earth than your Family.

Thank you, Family, just for BEing!

Joe

Average Joe Radio Special Episode: Mom

The newest episode of Average Joe Radio is finally on the web and ready for download.

I've got a great new source for tunes in this episode.

Call the feedback line: 206-600-4JOE.




Enjoy!

Joe

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Christmas Spirit

As Christmas draws near, I find myself more taken by the spirit of Christmas this year than I have been in many years. It's been quite some time since I actually felt Christmassy (is that even a word?) at Christmas time, and it's a good feeling to have again.

I left home at eighteen and served eight years in the Active Duty Army. Eight years away from home every Christmas sure felt like a long time. Care packages sent from my Mother and Grandmother helped to make it Christmas for me.

Upon returning home from the Army twelve years ago, I started a career in Retail Management because it was convenient at the time. A major electronics retailer had offered me a position six months earlier during a military-sponsored job fair in Wurzburg, Germany, on the understanding that I would begin upon separation from the Army. During twelve years in Retail Management I have grown accustomed to working extra hours and longer days during the peak shopping season from Thanksgiving to Christmas. This has often meant less time spent with family.

This isn't the first Christmas since my Mother passed away. But it's something I'll never get used to. Mom was the magnetic force that kept the family together. As a family -- and probably individually, as well -- we have not been the same since she left us. I often personally chastise myself for all the time I wasted away from my family during the holidays, forgetting (as it is so easy to do) that we are all only here for a short while.

My Mother is no longer with us. She has received the Ultimate Reward. And my family rarely gets together under one roof all at the same time. But I have a new family now. I have a beautiful wife and two wonderful children. I can't give them everything for Christmas, but I can give them something that has come to mean everything to me: Time. It's what Mom would want.

Joe

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving is considered by most to be the start of the holiday season. Every year when the holidays roll around, I start to miss my family. My mother and grandmother, who are both gone now, were like the Super Glue that bonded my family into a unit. Every year they'd prepare a huge turkey feast with all the trimmings, and four generations would gather together and give thanks for all that we had. I don't remember any of my siblings, my nephews, or my neice ever complaining about having to spend the entire day with family. It was just something we all did.

Now I have a family of my own -- a wife and two kids -- and my family -- the one I grew up with -- lives nearly four hours away. My wife's family lives fifteen minutes away, and we spend every holiday with them. I don't get from them the same sense of unity -- of togetherness -- that I felt with my family growing up. There's just something missing there -- I can't really describe it. To me, it just doesn't feel like Thanksgiving should feel.

Tomorrow, as Amercians around the world celebrate Thanksgiving in their own way (and did you ever notice that even atheists and agnostics find some reason to get together for turkey and trimmings on Thanksgiving day every year -- I'll never understand that one), my family and I will be with my wife's family, while my brother and sisters, nephews and neice, and grandfather gather together some four hours away. I guess it's a time to make new traditions.

There are many things that I am thankful for, and since that's what this day (tomorrow) is all about, here are a few of them:

My wife, whom -- though we seem to disagree quite often -- I love with all of my heart.
My children, both of whom are healthy and happy.
My country, which -- without question -- is the greatest land on God's green Earth.
Freedom.
My career -- which provides me the means to provide for my family.
Memories, and the people who have helped me to make them.
The future -- as uncertain as it might be.

Here's hoping that you and yours have a safe, loving, memory-making Happy Thanksgiving!

Joe

Butterflies in the Rain

Have you ever seen a butterfly in the rain? By nature, butterflies must remain in shelter when it rains. The weight of the raindrops on their wings makes it impossible for them to fly when it's raining. So, have you ever seen a butterfly fly in the rain? I have.

My mother passed away at the relatively young age of fifty-eight. After battling for nearly a year with an enemy the doctors were unable to diagnose, my mother succumbed to cancer. She was misdiagnosed with "mini-strokes" and kidney failure, and a number of minor conditions, while the cancer ravaged her, spreading through her body until a healthy internal organ did not exist.

Before her passing, we all had the chance to say our goodbyes. Not much of a chance, as the diagnosis of cancer was followed quite rapidly by her passing, but we all had the chance to express our love for her and say "goodbye." We were at peace with it, because she was a Godly woman -- a Christian -- who secured her place in Heaven decades ago.

Her final moments on this Earth were spent with family. All four of her children, their spouses, and three grandchildren were at her bedside when she drew her last breath. It's an experience I'll never forget but don't plan to get into now.

Mom touched so many lives that her funeral was standing room only and over a thousand people paid their last respects during the visitation the day before. In accordance with her wishes, after a brief private, family-only viewing, the visitation and funeral were closed-casket. We placed into the casket before it was sealed a poem I wrote for her and some of her favorite things: Wise potato chips, Reese peanut butter cups, Clorets gum, and an iris. Her family was the last to see her off once again. There was no graveside service.

Later that day, my wife and I paid a visit to the cemetery, where we placed some more of her favorite things: fresh flowers and silk butterflies. Mom always loved butterflies.

As you'll recall, just over two months ago I was involved in a rather lucky auto accident. Lucky because I survived without a scratch. I lost traction in the pouring down rain. The back of the car spun 270 degrees as I slid across the roadway and into the ditch on the opposite side. Upon contact with the solid ground that rose up from the ditch into a cornfield, the car began to roll. I believe it only rolled once, but it's hard to be certain -- I was a bit disoriented afterwards.

I did have my wits about me enough to jump from the car immediately when it came to a stop. I guess it's a good thing I wasn't injured, because that couldn't have been helpful. I flagged down a passing motorist who -- though they wouldn't let me in their car in the driving rain -- was kind enough to let me use a cell phone to call 911.

It wasn't until after the Sheriff's Deputy arrived that I was able to locate my own cell phone. It was lying in a puddle of water in the grass with a book I had been reading and the Palm Pilot I'm writing this on now. As I gathered up my scattered belongings, I looked into the car for anything that I might need to secure before leaving it with the wrecker company. I opened the back passenger door and the most beautiful Monarch butterfly buzzed past my face as it escaped the vehicle. At the time I wondered how it got into the car, but dismissed it to the shattered front passenger door window. It's only now, almost three months later, as the rain beats the pavement outside once again, that it comes back to haunt me. How did that butterfly manage to fly in a downpour? Where did it come from? And how did it get into the car? And when?

Or was it not really a butterfly at all? Could it have been an Angel of Mercy sent to shield me from harm? Sent in the form of something that was so dear to mother?

Joe

The Daily Gripe #15 - Red Heads

It's time for The Daily Gripe, from Average Joe American.

I married a red head. If you've ever known a red head, you know the kinds of things we lovers of red heads endure.

My wife, sometimes, seems to get upset and stressed out over the smallest little things. I mean, major league stress over tee ball things. And, being a red head, she can have a pretty fiery temper.

As a child I once was listening to an old time radio show on a cassette tape. It was a murder mystery, and the narrator quoted what he described as an old adage: Beware the girl with the fiery red hair. A man is safer in the electric chair. I now know how right he was.

My mom was a red head -- and her mom, and her's as well. You'd think I was well trained for life with a red head. I used to think so. But I'm not so sure anymore.

My wife sometimes gets so angry - frustrated - upset - stressed - whatever that she acts out I think before she realizes what she's doing.

Earlier this week she broke a bowl and a glass on the floor and sent sour cream flying across the kitchen. It's a long story I won't go into, and it doesn't get that extreme very often (I can think of one other time in eight years), but when she gets upset enough it's like being in a battle zone with no armor.

My mother was once given very poor service at a dry cleaner. She tried to explain to them how they had messed something up, but they were not prepared to take responsibility for their actions. My mom stormed out of that establishment, the last words from her mouth being, "I hope this place burns to the ground!" It did, that very night, and my mom had nothing to do with the cause. True story.

I guess my gripe today is that my wife allows so many small, inconsequential things to cause her so much stress and frustration that it can sometimes turn an otherwise perfectly good day into a nightmare. That really gripes me! There's nothing I can really do about it, either, but jump for cover and not come out until the smoke clears.

I love her, and I'd never let anything come between us. Not even her red head temper.

And if you've never actually met a red head, yes, everything they say about their temper is true.

Joe