Splenectomy

Macc has been my constant companion the past few years. Shortly after Amy passed, Macc accompanied me on my daily walks as I wrestled with my grief. We logged thousands of miles together in the silence of the woods and grassy fields in and around our community. We were a common sight walking the streets and trails together day after day.

Even on the hottest days of summer and the coldest days of winter, he was happy to trudge along with me as I recalled the many wonderful memories of my life with Amy searching for peace. I brought him with me on all but the longest hikes. Nine miles seemed to be his limit, especially for the more extreme weather days. On those days, I would venture out alone.

For the past few years as I prepare to go to bed, Macc wanders over to Amy’s side of the bed and puts his head up onto the mattress waiting for an invitation to join me. The bed is king sized, so there was always room for Macc to cuddle up between Amy and I at the foot of the bed. When Amy became ill, however, he adjusted to nights on his own bed on the floor to give Amy and I more space for some of the medical necessities required in the later stages of her illness. He has since reclaimed a spot on Amy’s side of the bed and cuddles up on Amy’s healing blanket given to her by her high school friends each night. The blanket accompanied her when she transitioned to hospice.

Macc is Amy’s enduring gift to me and the kids as it was her initiative that brought him into our lives. Although I often complain about his quirky anxiety when he is left alone, I cannot imagine the past few years without him by my side.

It came as a shock that in mid-May, he lost his appetite for several days. Given our family’s history with our previous pets Dakota and Scout, I kept a careful eye on him. On Wednesday, May 13^th I was alarmed when Macc threw up blood in the middle of the night.

I decided to take him into the animal hospital in Waukesha early that morning to ascertain what was going on with this health. They opted to do an ultrasound to get a quick snapshot of his organs. It did not turn up anything which would have caused his recent episode (we later chalked it up to an inflamed stomach lining), but it did show a very tiny tumor/lesion on his spleen.

The veterinarian recommended another ultrasound in a month to see if the tumor grew. Evidentially, cancerous tumors of the spleen grow extremely fast and are nearly always terminal by the time they are identified. We had discovered his tumor by accident trying to determine what had caused his recent lack of appetite.

Macc soon recovered from our initial concerns, but I was diligent to follow-up and scheduled his ultrasound a month out. Her recommendation would be to remove the spleen if it grew even moderately as removing it early was curative versus if we waited too long.

The follow-up ultrasound found the tumor had grown incrementally and a new area was also identified. I ran this information by my niece, Megan, who is a veterinarian in Texas. Given this additional information, she recommended we proceed with a splenectomy. Even if the tumors turned out to be benign (which they were), it would benefit him to have them removed while he was younger and in good health. If they turned out to be cancerous, removing them early gave him the best chance.

On June 29^th, Macc had his spleen removed and he has been recovering nicely from the surgery. Keeping him inactive has been a challenge, but fortunately he is a very mellow fella, except of course when I leave him alone.

We had plans to visit my brother and sister-in-law over the fourth of July and I felt bad for him as he loves to run up and down the hill and to swim in the lake chasing his frisbee. We kept him sedated to make sure he was not too active but he appreciated me lugging him up and down the hill to the lake numerous times so he could be with us on the pontoon boat.

As Macc sleeps next to me this afternoon, I count my blessings that Amy had the foresight to ensure our family would not be alone these past months while we adjusted to our new lives without her.

I can’t imagine what it would have been like without Macc to keep me company offering his big sappy eyes of understanding and floppy ears to listen to me every time I needed a sympathetic ear. They say that a dog is a man’s best friend. This is true. But they also have the power to help heal our wounded souls. It is another debt I will never be able to repay.